LITMIR.BIZ

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in your life that love you.”

      She grabbed my shoulders and made me look at her. “Promise that will include a son-in-law and some grandchildren. And from you—not Tiffany. I’m scared of what man she might bring home. And God knows she doesn’t need to bring any kids of her own into this world.”

      I laughed and rubbed her arm, hoping she wouldn’t force me to make that promise.

      There was a knock at the door. “Monica got back quick. I didn’t know there was a health food store close to here.”

      I opened the door and couldn’t believe what I saw. There were about six kids standing there.

      “Where Miss Michaels at?” one of the smaller boys said.

      “You gotta be kidding me.” I muttered under my breath. I stepped back and let the kids in. They flooded into the kitchen and gathered around my mom.

      Two of the girls walked over to the table and hugged her and kissed her sunken cheeks. The boys didn’t waste any time opening the refrigerator. “What you got to eat?”

      I stood in the kitchen doorway with my hands on my hips. “I can’t believe this. Moms, these kids don’t need to be hanging around here still.”

      Moms scowled at me. “Leave my babies alone. They keep me happy.”

      I didn’t fuss too much because I knew she was right. As I watched the kids swarming around her, eating Aunt Penny’s soul food and talking animatedly about their day and the goings on in the neighborhood, I saw my kids in my village in Mieze gathered around me eating beans and rice. I guessed I came by it honestly.

      I smiled and leaned against the counter watching them. “Make sure you guys wash these dishes when you’re done.” I pointed a threatening finger at each one of the kids. “Y’all better not be bringing Ms. Michaels no cigarettes. You hear me? If I catch any one of you bringing her a pack of cigarettes, you’ll have to deal with me. Understand?”

      Each one of them nodded at me with wide open eyes, probably terrified of the scary giant with the big afro.

      While Moms was distracted by one of the little boys showing her the latest dance, I picked the bills up off the table and took them into the living room and put them in my bag. Hopefully, she wouldn’t notice they were missing. I would go through them later and see how bad things were.

      I called Monica to say I was too exhausted to go back to Silver Spring and that I wanted to spend some more time with Moms. She was glad to be able to spend the night at her parents’ house, about twenty minutes away. I had thrown a couple of things in an overnight bag before leaving my house, knowing I would want to stay.

      After an hour or so, I chased the kids out of the house and told my mother it was time to go to bed.

      “You just get back and you bossing me around already?” Moms kissed my cheek and gave me the biggest smile to let me know how glad she was to have me home.

      As I sunk into my twin bed in my old bedroom, gratitude washed over me again. It wasn’t as comfortable as mine at home, but it wasn’t a hard hut floor or a luxurious rope bed. After tossing and turning for about half an hour, I realized that it was too comfortable. My body was used to sleeping on a hard surface.

      I also couldn’t believe how alone I felt. In Africa, I either slept in a small hut with several other missionaries or surrounded by clusters of African children who wanted to be close to Auntie Trina. And it was weird sleeping without my mosquito net. I felt exposed and almost . . . naked. The sounds of the cars and buses passing by and people talking and arguing on the street outside were strangely disturbing.

      After another half hour, I could hardly stand it. I took the comforter off the bed and tipped into my mother’s room. I laid on the floor next to her bed, right up under her.

      “Tree, baby, you okay?”

      “Yeah, Moms. Just weird sleeping in a bed by myself.”

      She reached down and rubbed my back and I almost cried. The exhaustion of the trip, Mom’s illness, and her financial problems weighed heavy on me. The culture shock of being home had hardly started.

      I took a deep breath and imagined myself lying on the beach on one of my visits to the mission base in Pemba, looking up at the expansive, clear sky with low hanging clouds, serenaded by the swelling waves of the Indian Ocean. In a place where everything displayed God’s beauty and splendor.

      Right before I drifted off to sleep, I thought of the bills downstairs in my purse. I might have to take a job sooner than I’d planned. Whatever it took, I was gonna make sure Moms was well taken care of.

      Seven

      The next day, I woke up with the sun as I had for the past two years. When I lived in the remote village areas, we had no electricity, so we woke up with the sun and ended most activity at sunset. That meant most of our days went from 5:00 A.M. to 5:00 P.M. When I cracked my eyes open, it took me awhile to figure out I was back home. As soon as I did, I turned over on my pallet on the floor and forced myself to go back to sleep.

      I didn’t awaken again until hours later, when I heard the doorbell ring and Monica’s voice shortly thereafter. I got up and quickly got dressed, brushed my teeth, and went down the steps.

      “Well, she’s alive.” Moms hugged me and ran a thin hand over my afro. “Tree, I thought you was gon’ sleep all day.” I could tell she was trying to get used to my hair.

      I hugged Monica. “You sleep well?”

      She stared at my eyes. “I should be asking you that.”

      I shrugged. “It’s gonna take me awhile to catch up.”

      Moms said, “You didn’t bring no clothes? You can put on something of mine if you want to.”

      I looked down at the same jeans and T-shirt I’d put on yesterday after my shower. “No, these are fine.” I walked over to the stove and found leftover pancakes and eggs. I realized I hadn’t eaten much the night before and fixed a plate and sat down to eat.

      “Ain’t you gonna warm it up?” My mother frowned.

      I shook my head and tore off a piece of pancake, picked up some eggs with it, and gulped it down. Moms stared at me like I had no home training. “They ain’t got forks in Africa?”

      I shook my head and gulped down another bite of pancakes and eggs. Moms and Monica looked at each other, then looked at me. They finally sat down at the table with me.

      “Have y’all heard about this?” Moms looked past me at the small television on the kitchen counter. I winced when I saw what was on the screen. It was the twelve o’clock news, showing Deacon Barnes and Pastor Hines being carted off in handcuffs. Moms got up to turn up the volume.

      “According to their church leadership council, these men are accused of molesting boys in their congregations for over twenty years. Since this story has broken, eight more families have come forward with similar allegations. We can only expect many more . . .”

      Moms sucked her teeth. “And you want to know why I don’t go to church. They a bunch of hypocrites, that’s why. Young boys supposed to be in church learning about Jesus, but instead, they get raped. That’s why it’s so many gay men in the church now. Foolishness like that.”

      Monica went pale and bit her lip. I knew she was bracing herself because Moms was just getting started.

      Bishop Walker appeared on the screen next, holding up his hand, refusing to answer the questions of several reporters nearly chasing him into the church.

      My mother stood. “Ain’t that y’all’s old church?” She put her hands on her hips. “You mean to tell me the church you was trying to get me to go to was full of all that hell? I knew there was a reason I didn’t want to go. There’s more sin and hell in the church than us regular folk who ain’t got time to be bothered with a bunch of holy rollers telling

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