Page 26 of Harts & Hurts

“That wasn’t for you to decide.” I was basically speaking to her back when I said it because she, too, had brushed past me and entered the guesthouse.

“Little girl, please. I’m her grandmother. I don’t need permission from the son I gave birth to, to do something for my granddaughter.”

“Uh, according to the court order, yes, you do. Griffin and I are her legal guardians. Putting holes in her body is something that we decide, not you.”

“Putting holes in her body?” She gave a scoff while her daughter gave a chuckle, and my niece continued to whimper. “So dramatic. Just like a Melrose.”

My temper ramped up, though I fought to tamp it down. It was getting to the point of no return. “How would you know? You don’t even know the Melroses, outside of my sister. And Ashlynn wasn’t the least bit dramatic.” Before she could respond, I kept talking. “I’mma need you to leave. As you can see, Griffin isn’t here, and I need to take care of Melrose. Please, leave.”

“Leave?” Marissa waved me off with her hand. “Girl, bye. Griffin picked us up from the hotel. Our truck is still over there. We’ll wait here until he gets home.”

“Besides, this is my son’s house. You’re just a guest. You can’t put me out. I’ll put you out.”

Never in my life had I wanted to slap the shit out of somebody’s mother the way I wanted to slap Yolanda Hart. First Yolanda, then Marissa’s bitch ass. I had never participated in the feud between the two families, but I could say without a doubt that I truly disliked the two women sitting before me, resting comfortably on the sofa where I resided and telling me that they weren’t leaving.

They were right; it was Griffin’s house. And even though he went out of his way to make me feel like it was my home too, . . . it wasn’t. My name wasn’t on anything, and clearly, his family members could show up and not only take liberties with the child I was legally responsible for but also make me feel uncomfortable and unwelcomed.

Well, my mother had raised me to know that I didn’t have to stay anywhere and be treated badly. As long as she had breath in her body and a roof over her head, I always had some place to go. I left Griffin’s relatives where they were and carried Melrose first into the kitchen to get her a bottle and then into the primary bedroom. I changed her diaper and fed her the bottle as calmly as I could. While she was up on my shoulder to burp, I grabbed a rolling suitcase from the closet and began filling it with items belonging to us both.

After the bottle, Melrose was still fussy and seemed to be in pain, so I called Gretta. Once I told her what happened, she advised me that she left a first-aid kit for Melrose that included children’s pain and fever medication. I gave Melrose a dose, grabbed the suitcase, and strolled straight past Mrs. Hart and little Miss Hart. In the kitchen, I grabbed every bottle Melrose owned and every container of formula as well. I chucked them into the baby bag to the point where it was bulging. Then I headed for the front door.

“Look, Ma. She has a suitcase. Where you going? And where are you taking my niece?”

I looked Marissa in her face, and she must’ve seen the fire in my eyes because she sat back on the sofa. “For all intents and purposes, this is my damn daughter. I’ll take her wherever the hell I wanna take her. If you don’t like it, take it up with the judge.”

“Don’t cuss at me, little girl,” Mrs. Hart said.

Though I had been speaking to Marissa, I decided that since Yolanda Hart opened her mouth, she could get it too. “Kiss my ass, lady!” I was out of the house without another word to either of them. They came out on the porch and watched me put Melrose and the suitcase into my truck, but since her car was back at the hotel, they couldn’t follow me. All they could do was call Griffin. And he was at the studio in Charleston. Who gon’ check me, boo?

12

Anistyn

I got into the driver’s seat and pulled off like I had good sense. I was pissed, but I knew that it wouldn’t do me any good to take my anger out on the roads. Distracted driving was how people ended up injured or dead. I took deep breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth. I turned to the Smooth Jazz station, hoping the soft and easy music would help calm my nerves. It worked.

I was driving for almost an hour before the first call from Griffin came in. I really wanted to answer it, simply because I didn’t want him to worry. In the end, I didn’t, because I was too pissed to talk to anybody, especially him.

I was able to hold it together for the first two hours of the three-hour drive. Then the quiet of the car with the quiet music and the soft sounds of Melrose’s breathing gave my mind too much time to think, too much time to ruminate, and my emotions started to get the best of me.

I tried to focus on my favorite bible verse, Philippians 4:8—“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

I tried to concentrate on the fact that the weather was beautiful, and the drive was peaceful. Traffic had been moving well for a Tuesday evening in the late summer. Still, I couldn’t hold those thoughts. Other thoughts kept creeping in—thoughts about how Mrs. Hart had arbitrarily decided that she could get Melrose’s ears pierced without running it past Griffin and me; thoughts of how my niece had been returned to me fussy and clearly in pain. Had Mrs. Hart even consoled her when they put that piercing gun to her little earlobe?

“You had one job,” I said aloud to myself in the stillness of my SUV. “To keep Ashlynn’s baby safe and free from hurt, and you couldn’t even do that.” The more I thought about how my sister entrusted me with her most precious possession, and I had been more excited about working on a house than I had been about keeping my niece safe, the more my heart balled up inside my chest. Before I knew it, tears were pouring from my eyes. I wiped at them to keep my vision from blurring. The last thing I needed was to have an accident and kill both myself and Melrose.

It seemed like the more I tried to calm myself down, the harder I cried. It was crazy because I was literally sobbing, but doing it silently since I really didn’t want to wake Melrose. Finally, I decided to come off the highway. I pulled into the first gas station I saw. I didn’t pull up to a pump since I didn’t need gas. I pulled near the air machine. With my head on the steering wheel, I continued to cry silently but violently as my shoulders shook, and my throat felt like it was closing from the inside out. Pain and grief racked my body while life went on around me outside of my truck.

After about seven minutes of that, I tried to pull myself together. It didn’t work. The tears kept flowing, the pain that gripped my chest continued to tighten its tentacles around my heart, and my throat was still 90 percent closed. My plan had been to drive to my parents’ house, but as I sat there, distraught and distressed, I knew I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t drop my pain into my parents’ laps. They had their own pain. They couldn’t manage mine too. That wasn’t fair. But I also couldn’t turn around and drive back to Jackson Island. I didn’t know if Mrs. Hart and Marissa were still there, waiting to mock me about being dramatic. I was considering a nearby hotel when my phone rang. I figured it would be Griffin again, but I was surprised when the name on my screen was my brother, Anthony’s.

“Hello?” I answered quietly because I really wanted Melrose to keep sleeping.

He breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Ani, where are you?”

I sniffled, but the tears kept right on coming. “Why?”

He answered my question with a question. “Why are you crying?”

“My sister is dead, and I’m failing at being a good guardian to my niece.” I hated that I dumped all my stuff on him, but I didn’t have it in me to be politically correct.