My grandmother offered me food to which I declined. I didn’t have much of an appetite as of late. Chyna brought me into her bedroom where she had Chris Brown, Soulja Boy, and Waka Flocka posters plastered on her walls. I saw pictures of her and some young guy who I had assumed was her boyfriend. There were poses of them kissing and embracing and some of him alone. Her music was blasting so loud that even she knew it was difficult to engage in a two-way conversation with it at that volume. Instead of turning it completely off, she turned it down to a moderate level.
We sat on her bed and initially just stared at one another. Chyna was a cutie. She had features of both our mother and father. She had gotten one of those piercings between her cheek and top lip, marring her beauty. I guess that was the fad for the kids of her cohort. It took away from her natural splendor in my opinion, but who was I to say.
I broke the ice by saying, “Chyna, you’ve blossomed into quite a beauty. Then again, you’ve always been gorgeous.”
She giggled like a schoolgirl before saying, “Thanks,” in the shyest of tones.
“I’m sure the boys are just loving you,” I continued my genuine doting.
She continued to laugh nervously. I was immediately reminded of what a teenager was like. I have a few as patients but so far removed from entertaining one that I forgot the oddity involved. I tried a different way of starting up a conversation.
“So, what’s going on with you?” I asked hoping that would get her to talk.
“Ummmmm…nothing, I guess. Just school,” she said taking the bait. Whew!
“Well, how is school? You should be preparing to graduate soon, right?”
“Yeah…I’m a junior. I think I wanna go ta’ college. I don’t know. I might do hair.”
“Okay. Well, give it some thought and I’m sure you’ll make the best decision for yourself.” I decided that quickly to end the torture.
“You went ta’ college, right?”
I nodded in agreement.
“Did you like it?” Chyna was finally trying to engage me in conversation.
“I went and I think it was one of the best things I could have done. I hope you can find what you like to do and make it happen, too. If it’s not college, it’s okay, but do something that can help you become independent. Grandma and Grandpa won’t always be around, you know,” I softly admonished, keeping in mind my grandmother’s woes with Chyna.
“Ummmm…okay. I will,” Chyna said and then followed up with, “Mommy be asking ‘bout you a lot.”
That comment hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d even thought about my mother. I hadn’t seen her since I left for college. My grandmother would mention her when I called back home, but she generally never said much other than what related to Chyna.
All I could muster was, “Oh, yeah?” which was not a question although it sounded as such.
“Yeah. They transferred her from Straight & Narrow to St. Joe’s. She still on dialysis. I told her ‘bout smoking ‘dat shit knowing she sick but she don’t be hearing nobody. She gone’ end up just like my daddy…watch.” Chyna started to tear up.
I didn’t know what to say. This news was all foreign to me. My mother was on dialysis? For what?
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I didn’t have anything else.
We chatted for about a half hour more before I rose to leave. Exhaustion hovered over me. I hadn’t been sleeping for weeks, and the flight out here probably pushed me over the edge. Chyna’s lack of maturity and etiquette didn’t allow her to offer to walk me out.
I stood in the kitchen and spoke briefly to my grandmother who sat at her kitchen table with the Bible out to her right, clipped coupons to her left and knitting a blanket in her lap. The conversation was short-lived likely because whenever I do call and check in, it’s her that I speak with. I gave half-hearted promises to stop by before I left the following day to return home. That was me, in and out. I’d seen all my soul could bear. I kissed her and headed out.