Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [100]
I took a deep breath and moved away from Desmond’s embrace. For a moment I had my back to him, and then I suddenly turned and said, “I had a child. I gave her up.” And then I began to cry body-shaking tears.
Desmond rushed to me and held me in his arms. One was covering my head and the other was wrapped tightly around my waist as he whispered, “Let it out, girl. Everything will be just fine. Let it out, baby.” I clung to Desmond like he could save me.
Then he kissed me. Deep and hard, like he was making love to me. I had never been kissed so passionately, so lovingly. When he paused, he wiped the tears from my face with his open hand and said, “You said you felt like you were changing. You can. You mentioned feeling like you were shedding the layers of your past. Your grandmother’s beatings. Your mother’s deceit and lies. But Yancey as long as you keep those lies inside you,” he said as he gently tapped my heart, “you won’t shed anything. If it’s causing you this much pain, let everything go.”
“But I can’t,” I said.
“Yes you can. I know you can. Stop trying to be perfect. Let Yancey out!”
Desmond spent the next hour convincing me that telling my story would help others and would allow me to enjoy the rest of my life without fear. It was not the first time I’d been told this. But I heard Desmond’s words in a new and different way. His sweet-smelling breath caressed my face like a fall wind and everything made sense to me. He told me that I wasn’t the first woman who had given up a child and I surely wouldn’t be the last.
Desmond assured me that keeping Madison would have been the wrong thing to do, since I was worried about passing on the legacy of bad parenting. That it would be better for her to be in a healthy and happy environment and not in a home haunted by secrets and fear.
He also suggested that if I didn’t want to have LaVonya tell my story in People I should consider offering my story to Ebony or Essence. “Think of all the young girls you can help. Our community is still overwhelmed by teen pregnancies, and now we have AIDS to worry about. If you, Yancey B, came forth and talked about the importance of healing by facing our past, just think how much good you could do.”
I spent the night, my first in Desmond’s bed, with his arms holding me tight. I felt safe, protected and new. No, I felt reborn. I promised myself I’d make the most of my rebirth.
We Fall Down
I arrived back in New York and caught a cab straight to Wylie’s apartment. When I got out of the cab, fear clutched my insides as the warm spring air brushed over my face. I was worried about Wylie, because he hadn’t returned my calls.
All I could think about was one evening when Wylie and I were discussing one of his friends who had the virus. Though a little tipsy, Wylie had said he would kill himself before he took his family and friends through AIDS. I still couldn’t believe Wylie had slipped and had unsafe sex while always reminding me to be careful.
My heartbeat slowed a bit when the doorman called Wylie’s apartment and then nodded for me to go up. That was a good sign, I thought, unless someone else had answered his phone, like a member of his family.
When I reached his apartment, I knocked on the door quickly, and a few moments later, Wylie opened the door and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Wylie, why haven’t you returned my calls? I’ve been worried about you,” I said as I walked into his apartment and dropped my luggage beside the front door. I gave Wylie a hug, but his body felt lifeless and his usual smile