Page 62 of His First Wife

“So, as I was saying in the kitchen,” Aunt Luchie went on, raising her voice so the rest of the people at the table could hear her, “we really need to support the city’s efforts to keep Grady Hospital open. If it closes, where will all of those poor people go when they need good medical care? And where will our black doctors go to do their residencies?”

“Oh, please, Luchie,” my mother said. “The problem is that the doctors from Morehouse Medical School have more choices of where they can do their residencies now. It’s not like it was when we were coming up and they had limited options. Not every black person has to go through the old hospital.”

“Well, I’m a Grady baby,” Jamison’s cousin said. “And I think it’s important we keep the place open. We can’t let it be shut down like the rest of everything that’s black in the city. It seems like it’s a part of that whole gentrification thing, if you ask me. They want the old, poor blacks out of the city, so they can bring some of the white money in.”

“Exactly,” Aunt Luchie said.

“Stop it. I get so tired of people always associating everything that’s broken down and poor with black people. That’s not a black hospital,” my mother said. “It’s an old, broken down building that was poorly managed and that’s why it’s being shut down, just like every other poorly run business in the ghetto.”

“Oh, no,” Aunt Luchie said.

“I mean that, Luchie. Black people need to stop making all these excuses and realize that if they don’t run their businesses correctly, others will come in and get that money. That’s the bottom line.”

“Here we go,” Dottie said. “Got to start putting down black people, like you’re not black too.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ladies,” Jamison said, looking at me like I was supposed to stop the war that was brewing. I just looked straight at him as if I was deaf. If I even opened my mouth only one thing would come out. “Come on, we haven’t even gotten through the first meal. Let’s settle down. And we don’t need to talk about black businesses failing because we have one that’s doing very well right here in this house.”

“That’s right, baby,” Dottie said, patting him on the back as she always did. “And that successful black business done bought this house and supports this family. And it’s in no danger of breaking up. Right, baby?”

“Right, mama!”

She kissed him on the cheek.

“And it’ll make sure it keeps my grandbaby good and healthy and only getting the best, so he can be the first doctor in the family,” she said.

“Now that’s a fine idea,” Aunt Luchie said.

“No, we’re not choosing his career for him,” Jamison said. “We want him to be able to make that decision for himself. Right, Kerry?” He looked at me for a response. Everyone did.

“Um . . . hum . . .” I managed.

“Oh, he’ll be a doctor. It’s in his blood,” Jamison’s mother said. “Well from my side, anyway . . .”

“Excuse me?” my mother said.

“Well, Jamison is the only person ’round here bringing any money in,” his mother went on, sipping the mimosa in front of her.

“Only person?” my mother said. “First, that business wouldn’t be much of anything if it wasn’t for my contacts and my daughter’s work.”

“Ladies,” Jamison tried with his smug smile again, but it was too late.

“And if he’s not a doctor, you can blame it on that silly name your son gave him. Tyrian? What kind of name is that. No one has ever had a doctor named Tyrian.”

“No, you didn’t!” Jamison’s mother dropped her fork on the table.

“Yes, I did,” my mother said. I couldn’t believe her. She’d told me to keep my cool and she was clearly off her rocker. “If it wasn’t for my daughter in this house, that boy would come just about as close to being a doctor as your son did.”

“Well, he only stopped because your daughter didn’t have the grades to do it. He was trying to protect her from you.”

“Mama,” Jamison said.

“You told her that?” I asked.

“No, Jamison,” she started. “I’m tired of these people—”

“These people?” Aunt Luchie cut in.

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