The Perplexed Procurer

Epilogue

Dr. 'Minnie' Minnesota Smith

I grew up faithful.

Mommy and Doni had never forced religion upon none of their four children, but God were we steadfast. It was nothing we wanted for and not too much of a bad life we can say we had or experienced.

If anything, we were devoted to humility and restoration because we had been so fortunate to not having to be products of our early environment. People failed to realize that good and evil were on the same spectrum. People also failed to realize that just as much as there was evils of the world, there existed greatness and wonder also.

You couldn't have one without the other, otherwise neither would exist.

Life was my favorite paradise and paradox.

I looked into the faces of children that had similar beginnings to the very women that raised me. The title in front of my name was just that, a title. On the flip side, I couldn't see myself giving back in any other way.

My heels called the room to silence, young bodies of boys and girls alike stood at attention before I nearly begged them to relax.

"Good evening, Dr. Smith."

I smiled and raised my index finger, moving it side to side. "And why did I say not to call me Dr. Smith?"

"Because it's four of you, good evening Dr. Minnie!" One of the younger ladies corrected and the group fell into alignment.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Where did we leave off?"

Every hand went up, I chose the furthest to my right since yesterday's session was my left.

"You were telling us how Doni got into a car crash upon hearing that Ma had passed."

"No, she was telling us how Mrs. Smith found out she was pregnant again after Page got off of the phone!"

"Bruh, she told us that already. She stopped at the arrest of Doni for the second time!"

I smiled, my tears at bay upon hearing the recollections from the intelligent young crowd. Their eyes were still sparkling with hope as if their past weren't most of their young lives already. I let them talk before settling everyone down into a respectful atmosphere.

"I know what happened," a familiar voice rang out from the back of the classroom. Our seminar was now met with a presence different from all of the other speakers. I looked up into the familiar face, the salt and pepper tresses on her head pulled into a top bun as she got comfortable in her chair behind the group.

After driving from New Orleans, Mommy had rang Doni's line with news she knew she couldn't afford to prolong. GranMa had succumbed to life while we were at school, Mommy had to also give us the news too.

I remember like it was yesterday, the rock of the Smith's peacefully settled into the next realms with Mommy, allegedly her favorite daughter, by her side.

The funeral was the last we had seen Doni as a free woman before she had to turn herself in for conspiracy charges. Though she'd never admit to the blood shed by her own hands, I was old enough to understand everything that was going on. It didn't make Mommy forgive her less, and the karma had immediately come back to bite—leaving Doni partially paralyzed for the rest of her time.

Mommy looked at Doni from the side, her raised hand slowly lowering as the children now turned their attention to the back of the room. I chuckled and pointed at the young woman who had the most accurate timeline of the recollection.

"Dr. Minnie, yesterday you stopped at Doni being arrested for the second time...after GranMa's funeral!"

"You are correct, be sure to let Dr. Page know your screen time tonight is extended upon lights out. Now, we were just becoming familiar with..."

I went on to tell them of our experience with Doni and GranMa being physically absent from the home and how that pushed Mommy to want more in and from life. Being able to watch Mommy walk across the stage twice while Doni had been punished to visits with her from confinement taught me more than any Ivy League could.

Though Mommy and Doni had their differences, I had never learned true details until I matured into womanhood myself. I can say, they managed the Smith operation well even being worlds apart. And though they had both endured, divorce had never happened between the two.

Mommy didn't feel it was necessary, but I don't think they ever stopped wanting family, wanting to give each other everything they were robbed of as children even if they had to crash and burn to learn a few times.

It came with its perks, no life was perfect and I don't think we ever wanted a life besides our own. The conjugal visits were more than often, so much so, almost a decade of Doni not being in the house had occurred before we had a two parent household once again.

After I graduated, Page did, Adonis was right after, and lastly was Seven.

Doni was home for every milestone after and washed her hands clean with the lifestyle that costed her more than she had profited from. After therapy and realizing that all of her children were indeed geniuses, she and Mommy opened up one of the first black group homes for black children given to the system from birth.

We offered housing, scholarships, and guaranteed post-secondary education success. After securing a degree or trade, most went on to thrive in their careers with their own families and success stories to tell.

This was the part that churned my stomach the most, the upcoming graduates piecing together my life before their owns and realizing that delayed doesn't mean denied, and everyone's path isn't the same for a reason—that reason makes each one of their adoptions and successes ultimately unique, deserving of love, and worth living for.

It always ended with tears, but for some reason this group of graduates had higher emotional intelligence than the others before them...they got better with time.

I tried to keep my eyes away from my parents when they sat in on the graduating class's last seminar, but Adoni always had to comfort Mommy when I got to the end.

Always.

"So Smith's Salvation is The Perplexed Procurer's redemption arc?"

"Baby, The Perplexed Procurer is the Smith's Salvation."

Doni's green eyes bore into mine, her left winking as Mommy quietly cried in the back, matching a few of the graduates' before me expressions. I smiled and let a lone tear fall before a roar of applause filled the classroom.

Literally crying myself after rereading my book and finishing this. This story means so much to me, it's painful because though some of it may be fictionalized for personal reasons, it resonates on a level I wasn't aware of when beginning it.

Man, if you ain't turning your pain into art or something that educates while helping folks and preventing more people from having similar traumas, what are you doing?

What a lovely conclusion man. Fuckkkk!

Thank yall so much for interacting and being here with me period! This shit means sumn to me!!!

❤️Slim