Donna Hill - Chances Are

“Bren.” Dione heard her sniffle.

“Yeah,” she mumbled.

Dione stepped into the room. “Can I turn on the light?”

“I’d really prefer if you didn’t.”

Dione walked over to where Brenda sat and put a hand on her shoulder. “I think you really shook them up down there,” she began trying to get a chuckle out of her.

“I had to. They need to know the truth, Dee.” She sniffed again. “Our hearts and souls are in this place.”

“I know. We’ll find a way, Bren. Work on some more proposals, do some fund-raising. I’m not giving up.”

Brenda clasped the hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want them to know how bad things really were. But—”

“It’s all right. You were right. They do need to know. It’s not fair to them to leave them in the dark. The reality is, if we can’t get some funding in here, we’ll have to start looking for placement for them.”

Brenda sighed. “I’m not looking forward to that, but it’s a reality.”

Dione squeezed her shoulder. “Something will work out. Go home and get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah.” Slowly she rose and Dione could see her wiping her eyes in the shadowed room.

They both got their coats from the closet and walked out together to the front door.

Just as they reached the exit, Kisha came running down the stairs.

“Ms. Williams, Ms. Frazier. Wait!”

They both turned, fearing the worst, like a fight broke out upstairs or something.

“What’s the matter, Kisha?” Dione asked, holding her breath.

Kisha came to a stop in front of them. “We took another vote. We can’t let you lose Chances Are, Ms. Williams. It ain’t right.”

“Isn’t,” Dione corrected with a smile.

“Isn’t. But we want to help.”

Brenda turned to Dione and a smile broke out across her face. She grabbed Dione and hugged her. “Amen!”

Dione hugged her back as fear whipped through her. The racing of her heart had nothing to do with happiness.

That night Dione tossed and turned, her life, her youth, her lie tracking her like the most skilled of hunters. Everywhere that she tried to hide from the painful memories—there they were.

She ran, darting behind her successes, her degrees, her small cluster of friends, the security of Chances Are, but still the memories sought her out and found her. All in the form of Niyah who held out the accusing finger. “How could you have done it—lied to me all these years? I hate you,” she screamed. “Hate you!”

When Garrett arrived at the studio the following morning Jason was already there setting up to shoot a public service announcement for the local historical society.

Garrett poked his head in. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“I should be asking you,” he said adjusting the teleprompter for the woman from the society.

“No luck if that’s what you mean.”

Jason stopped what he was doing. “’Scuse me a minute,” he said to the woman seated in front of the monitor. He crossed the studio floor to where Garrett stood in the doorway. “I’m telling you, man, call her. Lay the cards on the table. Just be upfront,” he said under his breath.

“Listen, I ain’t begging nobody for nothing. We got this far without this project, we’ll keep going.”

“Yeah, doing the same thing day in and day out,” he hissed. “What about our plans, man? Huh?”

“Listen, Jas. If we could get one grant, we’ll get another. I’m not going to sweat this. If she decides to call and accept, fine. If not we’ll move on.”

Jason tossed it around a minute and looked long and hard at his friend, knowing that once Garrett made up his mind on something that was it. “Yeah, all right, man. You’re the boss. Whatever you decide to do I’m behind you.” He slapped him on the shoulder. “Just don’t take too long to think up something brilliant.”

Garrett chuckled. “Yeah, right. Thanks. No pressure. See you later. I’ll be in editing. Tom and Najashi in yet?”

“Tom is. Najashi should be here around noon.”

“Cool. Later.”

Dione had alternately been staring at the phone then at the proposal. Debating. Yes, the girls had re-thought the idea and had decided to go along with it. But what about her? She felt as if she were being squeezed like a lemon. There was no easy win. Either way she stood to lose a lot.

All during her restless night, she thought about her options, and her level of participation. The bottom line was she only had to reveal as much or as little as she wanted. Niyah didn’t have to find out how ugly her beginnings really were.

Resigned, she reached for the phone, just as it rang.

“Good morning, Chances Are. Ms. Williams speaking.”

“Hey, Dee, it’s Terri.”

Dione’s face and spirit instantly brightened at hearing the voice of her dear friend Terri Powers.

“Girl, it’s good to hear your voice,” she enthused, easily slipping into the sistah mode. “When did you sneak back into town?”

“Just got in last night,” she said with her barely there Barbadian accent. “Clint and I were overdue for a vacation. We’ve been burning the candle at both ends.”

“Yeah, I hear you. But it’s always extra nice when you have your own getaway resort to get away to.”

They both laughed. Terri’s husband, Clint, had opened a small resort several years earlier in the Bahamas and it had really taken off. Between Clint’s uncanny business skills and Terri’s public relations savvy, their careers and their finances were set. They’d gone through hell and back before finally getting together; from the kidnapping of Clint’s daughter, Ashley, to the resurrection of Terri’s brother, Malcolm, who she’d believed had been dead for years—but they did get together and they were exceedingly happy.

“So, what’s been happening? Any luck with the proposals?”

“No,” she pushed out a long breath. “But we’ve finally decided to go with the documentary.”

“Fantastic! I told you weeks ago it was a great idea. You know I’d be more than thrilled to put a promo campaign together for you once it’s done. No problem.”

Dione smiled. “I’m going to hold you to that. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

“If you hadn’t wanted to carry the weight of that place on your shoulders, I told you I would have worked out a P.R. campaign for you to pitch to those stuck-up funders.”

“I know, I know. Don’t rub it in.”

“When does it start?”

“That’s the thing. I’m not sure. Actually, we just decided last night. We put it to a house vote. I haven’t even spoken to the producer yet. He may not want to do it at this point.”

“He’ll do it. The story behind Chances Are is a gem. Your story especially.”

Dione’s stomach fluttered. “That’s my biggest concern, Terri. You know that. Niyah doesn’t know everything.”

“Dee, it’s time that she did. She’s almost eighteen.”

“I know,” she said, a sad hitch in her voice. “I just don’t ever want her to feel the same worthlessness that I felt for so many years. Or that my bringing her into the world was the cause of—”

“Don’t even go there. If anything, Niyah was and still is the catalyst for everything that you’ve become. Everything that you’ve done for so many other young girls who had no one and nowhere else to turn. That’s something to be proud of, Dee, not ashamed.”

“And how many times over the years have I had this very conversation with myself? It’s just easier said than done.”

“Well, sister-friend, it’s got to come out sometime.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. But I’ll work it out.”