Being Davanté
Michelle St. Claire
Being Davanté
A novel
by
Michelle St. Claire
Book 1 of Beautifully Unbroken™ Young Adult Series
Michelle St. Claire
Being Davanté
Michelle St. Claire is the author of over 12 novels and other creative works, including Beautifully Unbroken™ Young Adult Series and short stories from the Jesus Miracles Collection. She is an up and coming author with growing reviews and notoriety.
For more information, visit:
https://www.May3rdbooks.com
https://www.facebook.com/cleanteenstories
https://www.jesusdreaming.com
ALSO BY MICHELLE ST. CLAIRE
Young Adult Fiction
The Last Princess of Saint-Domingue
The Evolution of Max Fresh
A Garden for Raina
Cheap Justice
My Name is Marisol
A Tale of Two Brothers
Fighting Felicia
Carlos Solo
My Father’s Soup
Fast Punk
Song of Sonya
Coming Soon
Human Trash
Jesus Miracles Collection
Being Davanté
ISBN: 9781945891014
Copyright 2016 Michelle St. Claire
Publisher: May3rdBooks, Inc.
Cover Photo: Getty Images
All Rights Reserved.
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
For Daevon
One
"Sit up, Davanté, stop slouching!" ordered his mother.
Davanté awkwardly shifted his tall frame in the plastic chair. He leaned forward, clasped his hands over his knees and nervously tapped his feet.
"Ms. Williams?"
A Black woman stood authoritatively in the center of the waiting room. She was middle aged and heavy set. Her white nurse uniform gleamed especially bright against her dark skin tone. She cradled a silver clipboard in her arms. Busily, she wrote on it while she called out Davanté's mother's name again.
"Ms. Williams?"
Davanté looked at his mother. She did not return his gaze but kept her face fixed on the nurse. Davanté's mother closed her eyes briefly, letting out a long sigh.
"Ms. Williams? Is there a Ms. Williams here?" the nurse asked again.
"Yes, yes. I'm coming," sighed Ms. Williams.
She stood up and turned to Davanté.
"Here, hold my purse," she said, thrusting her purse onto her son’s lap. He clutched it obediently and quietly watched his mother follow the nurse behind the double doors.
Davanté despised these days. His mother would pull him out of school just so he could accompany her to these doctor visits. At first, he did not mind. Years ago, when his mother announced she was HIV positive, he admittedly felt ignorant of the disease.
Although he had learned about it in school and from his friends, he did not think it was that bad. After all, in the beginning, his mother had retained her youthful weight. Her buoyant soft skin did not immediately sag. For the first year, she seemed upbeat in spirits and vowed to beat the disease.
But as the years went on, Davanté began to see the worst of his mother. She gradually lost weight and her hair thinned horribly. Her skin folded and sagged on her face, producing ugly blotches and scars.
The worst was her mood that swung from happiness to depression from day to day. She lost her strength and relied on Davanté more and more to complete basic household duties.
Davanté grew to hate even the discussion of HIV or AIDS. He would slam his bedroom door when he heard his mother relate her discomforts to some poor soul on the phone.
At family gatherings, he would purposely zone out when relatives brought up the topic. Davanté would refuse to join in on their analysis of why his mother's past lifestyle was so abhorrent or why her disease was just payment for her sins.
He often wished it would all just go away and his mother would be healed. But he knew better. Lately, Davanté had been having recurring dreams of homelessness. He had never expressed it to anyone, but he sensed his mother was fighting a losing battle.
To shake the dark thoughts from his mind, Davanté slowly scanned the clinic waiting room. It was a small room with plastic white chairs lined against a dismal gray colored wall.
A black and white round clock ticked loudly. On either side of the clock hung crooked frames of faded pictures of sunsets and strange flower bouquets. The carpet was old and unraveling. Even the air smelled stale and sickly.
Davanté recognized the old Black man sitting alone in the corner. He had seen him at prior visits. The man's frame was grossly skeletal. His clothes hung on him loosely. He was bald with ugly legions covering his entire head.
Periodically, he would emit a loud heavily mucous cough that seemed to vibrate throughout his whole body. Sensing Davanté's gaze, the man looked up from his magazine and smiled at the teen, revealing a toothless grin. Davanté shuddered. He quickly shifted his attention to the smartphone suddenly buzzing in his pocket.
"Hello?" answered Davanté.
"Where have you been? You missed the Geography test!"
It was Vanessa, his on and off girlfriend.
"Oh, I had something to do with my mother," explained Davanté.
"How come you didn't tell me? We were supposed to eat lunch together," said Vanessa.
"Um, I guess I forgot. Sorry. We could do lunch tomorrow," said Davanté.
"Can't. My mother's taking me to the dentist," Vanessa said.
"Well, then we'll do it another time, Vanessa. It's not a big deal," said Davanté.
"It's just like you to say that. I don't mean anything to you, do I?" asked Vanessa.
Davanté rolled his eyes. Vanessa was a drama queen and he knew it. Her dramatic personality was the main reason why he liked her but also the same reason why he could never make a commitment.
"Vanessa, really? Come on. It's lunch. We're just teens. We're not married. We'll eat on Monday," said Davanté.
"Hm. Okay, I guess. Where are you anyway?" asked Vanessa.
"Oh, I'm just helping my mom out with something," said Davanté.
"With what?" asked Vanessa.
"It's nothing. It'll be over soon. How was the test? Was it hard?" asked Davanté.
"Somewhat. I think I did well," said Vanessa.
"That's good, that's good," said Davanté.
"Vanté, where are you really?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" said Davanté.
"I mean, I heard that you like Tamara and she's out today. So where are you?" she asked angrily.
"Vanessa, not now. I don't like Tamara. I don't know Tamara and I'm not with Tamara. I'm with my mom. Why can't you believe that?" said Davanté.
"Okay, we'll see. Anyway, I gotta go. Lunch will be over soon," said Vanessa.
"Okay. Well, I'll call you later tonight," said Davanté.
"Whatever," said Vanessa.
Vanessa hung up the line without saying goodbye. Davanté did not think anything of it. That was just Vanessa. She was not really jealous, Davanté thought, she just needed something to fuss about.
Davanté was about to check his email on his smartphone when he saw his mother suddenly emerge from behind the double doors. Ms. Williams looked exceedingly sad. Her
hair was mussed over. Her cheeks sported recent tear stains. She was repeatedly wringing her hands.
Ms. Williams stood with her back to Davanté while talking with the same nurse from before. The nurse put her arm around Ms. Williams and patted her on the back, prompting Ms. Williams to lean forward and place her head on the nurse's shoulder.
Davanté immediately stuffed his phone in his pocket, grabbed his mother's purse, and stood up. He hesitated to interrupt for he feared to learn the truth behind his mother's obvious distress.
However, he could not bear to see her crying. Davanté walked towards his mother and stood by her side.
"Ms. Williams, it's going to be okay. We have drugs, now. We have treatment. We have it all. You can have a good life, trust me," whispered the nurse.
When the nurse saw Davanté, she motioned for Ms. Williams to straighten up. Davanté's mother turned to her son and looked in his eyes. She attempted to speak, but her lips only trembled. Davanté quickly embraced his mother, then handed her her purse. He did not know what else to do.
The nurse gave Ms. Williams a new appointment card and waved her off. By the time Ms. Williams and Davanté reached the door, the nurse was busy calling out another name.
"What is it mom?" asked Davanté when they were alone in the elevator.
Ms. Williams said nothing. They exited the elevator and walked the short distance in the parking lot to her car.
As Ms. Williams fished for her keys, Davanté asked her again, "Mom, what's going on?"
Ms. Williams found the keys and opened the passenger door for Davanté. She then walked around the driver's side and got in. For several minutes, she quietly sat there without turning the engine on.
Slowly, Ms. Williams flipped down the vanity mirror and checked her face. Then she took a deep breath and turned to her son.
"I am not just HIV positive anymore," she whispered.
"What?" asked Davanté.
"I have AIDS now," said his mother.
Davanté momentarily paused to think about what she just said.
"What does that mean? I mean, what's the difference?" asked Davanté.
"Well, the difference is that I'm really sick. I'm going to need a lot more medical care than before. The difference is that I-I could die," said Ms. Williams.
Davanté quietly turned to look out the window.
"Davanté, it's going to be okay. Everything will always turn out right, okay?" she said reassuringly.
"Davanté, don't worry. We're going to fight this. You and me. Together, we can do anything, right?" said Ms. Williams.
Without a response from her son, Ms. Williams finally turned on the ignition. She put the car in reverse and pulled out of the doctor's parking lot and onto the main street.
She could barely drive. Her hands were still trembling from shock and fear of this new development. Never did she think she would be in this position. Ms. Williams did not see this coming. She had not prepared for this at all.
"Davanté, honey?" she said to her son.
Davanté kept his face fixed on the passenger side window. Ms. Williams figured that he was crying.
"Let's go to that new burger place on Fifth Street, huh? I'm hungry," said Ms. Williams.
Davanté did not respond. Ms. Williams drove to the burger restaurant, parked the car, then turned to Davanté.
"Speak to me, son. Tell me, talk to me," she said.
Davanté turned to his mother. He had not been crying. Instead, a sad and troubled expression had taken over his face.
"Mom, I don't want to lose you. This is too much. Why can't they just heal it?" he asked her.
"Oh, I don't know," she said.
"But didn't the nurse say that they have new drugs now?" said Davanté.
"Yes, she did. But I'm on a waiting list to get approved for the health insurance. If I don't have the health insurance, I can't get the drugs. They're just too expensive," explained Ms. Williams.
"How long until you get approved?" asked Davanté.
"Maybe a month or two," said Ms. Williams.
"That's not long. You're not going to die in a month or two," said Davanté.
"Of course not. We just gotta keep on prayin'. It’s going to be okay. When I said I might die, I think I was just scared, that's all," she said.
Satisfied, Davanté reached over and hugged his mother. She returned it with a tight embrace. Davanté could smell the faint scent of the Jean Nate' body splash that his mother frequently wore. He closed his eyes savoring the lemony scent. Silently, he prayed that he would remain by his mother's side forever.
Two
