Behold the Dreamers(103)
“Very well,” the judge announced. “I’ll review the case and make a decision. My clerk will notify you, at which point you’ll have to leave the country before your time runs out.”
Jende nodded, but the relief he’d thought he would feel did not come immediately. It did not come when he walked out of the court knowing that, in all likelihood, he would never have to walk into it again. It did not come when he arrived at work and changed from his suit to his work clothes, knowing he most likely would never again have to wash dishes to feed his children. The relief came only later that night, when Neni looked at him and, with tears in her eyes, said how glad she was that his ordeal might soon be over.
Fifty-five
IT WAS AN INTERNATIONAL CALL BUT SHE KNEW IT WASN’T FROM CAMEROON because the first three digits on her caller ID weren’t 237. For a moment she considered picking it up, but she and the children were running late for Olu’s mother-in-law’s seventieth birthday party in Flatbush, so she ignored the call and the voicemail notification. She threw the phone into her purse, hoping she would get a chance to check the message on her way to the party, but Olu’s sister, who was giving them a ride, chatted nonstop about the five-hundred-guest wedding she and her fiancé were planning in Lagos in December. It will be beyond fantastic, oh, the woman said at least five times, to which Neni was tempted to say, yes, enjoy the fantastic wedding because when the dancing is over and it’s time to get to the business of being married, you will forget the definition of fantastic. But she didn’t need to say it—the woman would find out soon enough; she merely listened and nodded as if she cared. It was only the next morning, after a seemingly endless night of dancing to hits by musicians from Fela to P-Square with a roomful of Yoruba women in the most elaborate gele styles she’d ever seen, that she thought about the voicemail and drowsily reached over a worn-out Jende to get her phone.
Hey, Neni, it’s Vince, the caller said. Hey, how are you guys? Hope everyone’s doing great. I know, you’re probably surprised to hear from me, but don’t panic, it’s all good. I’m doing good; great, actually. Just calling because I have a quick question for you. Actually, something I’d like to discuss with you. I wouldn’t wanna be a pain ’cause I know it’s a major imposition, but … you think you could call me back when you get this message? You could just call me for a second, let me know you’re free and I’ll call you right back. I wouldn’t want you to spend your money calling me in India but if you could get in touch, I’d appreciate it. Okay, peace and love to my man Jende, and to Liomi. Thanks and … well, hope we can talk soon. It’s Vince Edwards, by the way. Ha, ha. Just in case you know a couple of Vinces in India. Namaste.
She saved the voicemail and lay back on the bed. Outside, two men shouted at each other in drunken voices; beside her Jende snored befittingly for a man who had just finished a sixteen-hour shift at work. She closed her eyes, trying to resume her sleep, but Jende’s snoring and the pile of laundry on the floor and Vince’s out-of-the-blue voicemail had all combined to wipe off the last drop of sleep left in her eyes, so she climbed over Timba and Jende and went to the living room. There was only one thing Vince would want to know from her, she thought as she listened to the voicemail again: what had transpired between her and his mother. Anna must have told him. He must have been perplexed that someone he’d thought was a good person wasn’t such a good person after all. He must have told himself he needed to know the truth, since he was all about Truth. If we do not live in Truth, he always said, we do not live. Good thing she had a phone card. She was going to call him, and if he really wanted to hear her side of the story, she was going to tell him.
“Wow, I wasn’t sure you were going to call me back,” Vince said delightedly when he picked up the phone.
“Why would I not call you back?”
“I don’t know, everyone’s got so much going on you can’t expect them to return your calls just because you ask them to.”
“I’m not like everyone.”
“No, you’re not, Neni. No one is like everyone, and you haven’t changed a bit,” Vince said with a laugh. “How are you guys? How’s Jende, and Liomi? You’ve got a new baby, right?”
“Everyone is fine. How are Mighty and your dad?”
They were doing well, Vince told her, though he was a bit concerned about them now that it was just the two of them at home. Neni nodded as he spoke, but she said nothing. She was interested in knowing how the Edwards family was doing, though not at the expense of immediately learning the reason for Vince’s call. With any other person, she would have asked within thirty seconds because she hated being kept in suspense by unexpected callers—especially if she suspected the call might be about a matter that would make for an uncomfortable conversation—but with Vince that morning, she had to be kinder and gentler. So she started asking him question after question, and, seemingly eager to share, he proceeded to tell her far more than she thought she needed to know, all while leaving her wondering the reason for his call.
His dad was doing pretty well, he told her, but he’d become such a worrier ever since his wife died. He couldn’t stop checking in on everyone all the time. He called his parents at least three times a week, far more than the weekly calls they’d become accustomed to. He emailed Vince at least every other day, to learn about the latest places Vince had visited and to make sure he hadn’t run out of money. He called multiple times a day to check on Mighty, though Anna and Stacy and the part-time chauffeur repeatedly assured him that Mighty was fine and promised him that nothing bad was going to happen on their watch.