by Amir Abrams
“I need you to text Briana and ask her if she can come to the school during lunch and run us over to the mall real quick. Tell her I’ll give her gas money.”
“The mall? Why?”
“I need to get me a cell phone, ASAP.”
She laughs. “Okay. I got you. But, um, you might wanna stay on school grounds. I’ll go for you.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Okay, thanks.” I give her another hug, then walk into homeroom just as the bell rings, relieved that by the end of the day I’m gonna be able to talk to my man. Yeah, she really thought she was doing something, shutting my phone down. Ha! The laugh’s on her.
33
It’s Thanksgiving morning and I’m not feeling like I have anything to be that thankful for. Well, I do. I have Sincere. But still. I don’t have my car or my iPhone or iPad, my Sony flatscreen, DVD player, stereo, or any of my Louis bags. And I don’t even have a door for my room! What kinda BS is that?! I have to get dressed in my bathroom, but sleep out in the open. No privacy; nothing.
Then I’m stuck in this house for the next five days, since there’s no school today or tomorrow. So what is there to be thankful for? I’m a prisoner. And I’m still not speaking to the Witch for slapping my face up. Okay, okay . . . maybe I deserved it. But still . . . she didn’t have to do me like that. She did me real dirty. And I’m so over her, right now.
Anywaaayz, dinner’s going to be at her house, like it is every year. But I’m not going. I’m not eating her food. And I’m not gonna sit around and be forced to be nice to her. I don’t wanna look at her.
“And why aren’t you going over to Mommy’s with the rest of us? Umm, wait. Where’s your door?” It’s Erika. I haven’t seen her in so long. Not since my birthday. It seems like forever. I get up from off the bed and give her a hug. She hugs me back.
“Ugh, don’t even ask. It’s part of my punishment. No door; no privacy. The whole prison-camp thing. I’m not going because I don’t wanna be anywhere near the warden.”
She laughs. “You’re a long way from prison camp.”
I grunt.
“Anyway, please tell me how you’re not gonna be there when I share my big news? I thought you wanted to see the look on Mom’s face.”
“I did,” I say, flopping back on my bed. “But now I’m not beat to even look in her mean, ugly face.”
She shakes her head, sitting next to me. “How long are you on punishment?”
“Until I die.”
She laughs. “Girl, stop. You created this mess. You do realize that, right?”
I shrug.
“I can’t believe little Miss Perfect isn’t so perfect anymore. You always did everything right. You were Mommy and Daddy’s favorite.”
“Ugh. I was never her favorite.”
“Yes, you were.”
“Please.”
“Kamiyah, Mommy and Daddy spoiled you rotten because you were the baby. And you were their sweet, precious little angel. And I was their wild child. Now look at you. You’ve been cutting school, getting arrested, and failing classes. That is not the sister I know.” I shrug. “Sounds like maybe this Sincere guy you’re so into might be a bad influence on you.”
I frown. “Are you serious? Sincere is not a bad influence on me. He goes to school and does what he’s supposed to. He doesn’t encourage me or entice me or try to twist my arm to do anything. Heck, he doesn’t even suggest it. It’s all me. I cut school to spend time with Sincere on the days he doesn’t have classes.”
“Okay, maybe he doesn’t influence you or your decisions directly. But still, your involvement with him seems to be a bad thing.”
I start counting backward in my head before I go off on her. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six . . . five . . . I take a deep breath. “I love him.”
“Sounds like you’re obsessed with him.”
“I’m not obsessed with him.”
“Okay, if you say so. But I’ve been there. And trust me, I know obsession when I see it. You say you love him, but, sweetie, he’s become an unhealthy distraction for you. Love can sometimes be a distraction. And love sometimes makes us do some crazy things, like throw away all of our dreams. You used to dream of going to Juilliard and becoming a professional dancer. Now all you seem to dream about is being with this Sincere guy. What happened? Did you give up on that for love?”
I look at her. “Nothing happened. I mean, love happened. But I still wanna go to Juilliard, and I still wanna dance. That hasn’t changed.”
“Yeah, but you have. And not for the good. Have you even submitted your application yet? Daddy says you haven’t said anything about it.”
“I have one week to get everything in,” I tell her. “All I have to do is the essay portion of the application, then I’m done.”
She rubs my hair. “Good. Don’t let what might feel like love ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for.”
“It is love,” I tell her. “Sincere means everything to me.”
“Sweetheart, that’s the problem. He’s become everything to you. You know I’ve been there. You know when I was your age me and my girls used to have a whole bunch of crazy rules that we lived by, and we used to call that kind of love ‘crazy love’—becoming obsessed with a relationship. Being so consumed and so caught up in everything he does that you can’t see anything else. Your whole world becomes about him, and only him. Girl, back then every last one of us was crazy for love. And we did and said some crazy things all in the name of love. Now here you are; just as crazy and obsessed as we were.”
I stare at her. Tell her, again, that I’m not obsessed with my relationship with Sincere.
She tilts her head, raising her eyebrow.
I roll my eyes. “Okay, okay, maybe a little.”
“Girl, there’s no such thing as a little nothing. Crazy is crazy. No matter how you try to minimize it. If love has you coming out of character, becoming something or someone you never were before, it’s crazy. Not love. Well, not a healthy love. It’s a crazy love. I’ve had to learn that the hard way. And I finally know the difference. It took me falling in love with Winston to realize what real love is. It’s not fighting some girl over a man, or constantly keeping tabs on him.”
Ohmygod, she’s gonna beat me in my head with this crap! “Thanks, Oprah,” I say sarcastically.
She sucks her teeth, laughing. “Whatever, smart aleck.” She stares at me, smiling.
“What?”
“My little sis is growing up. I still remember the day Mom brought you home from the hospital. God, I hated you. But I loved you more. You were this beautiful little baby that everyone wanted to hold and love. And all you did was smile and laugh at everything. Everyone still wants to love you, if you just let ’em.”
I roll my eyes. “Besides you and Daddy and Sincere, who else?”
“Mom,” she says, touching the side of my face.
“Please. That woman hates me.”
“No, she loves you; probably more than she loves me. She hates the fact that you’re so much like her.”
I frown. “I am nothing like that woman.”
“Yes, you are. And so am I. Why you think we don’t get along?”
I suck my teeth. “Please. We don’t get along ’cause she’s always tryna be in control of somebody else’s life.”
She laughs. “Oh, and you don’t?”
“Nope.” She keeps laughing and I have to laugh, too. “Okay, maybe a little. But still.”
“Face it, Kamiyah. You’re a control freak, just like Mom. And just like me.”
I crack up laughing. And it feels good to laugh with my sister. I miss her so much. I sit up and give her a big hug. And tell her how much I love her.
“I love you, too. I’m gonna tell you something I never told anyone—not even Mom or Dad know this.” I look in her eyes, give her my undivided attention. “Remember when Leon and I used to have all those nasty fights and I’d be all beat up?” I nod. “Well, the only thing anyone ever saw
were the bruises and black eyes Leon used to give me. That’s all I wanted anyone to see. But what they didn’t know is that I was the one who initiated those fights. I was the one slapping him up, and cutting up his stuff, and going through his things. I provoked him and pushed him until he couldn’t take it anymore and he’d beat me. I’m not saying what he did was right. He should have walked away from me, but he didn’t. He couldn’t . . .”
I stare at Erika, shocked!
“And get this. The worse part of it all is this. When he’d beat up on me, that was the only time I felt like he really loved me.”
“Now that’s crazy,” I say. “Sincere has never put his hands on me.”
“That’s great. And hopefully he never does. And hopefully you’ve never put your hands on him.”
I shift my eyes. She stares at me. OMG, the way she’s looking at me makes me feel so ashamed.
“You’ve hit him?”
I close my eyes and nod.
“Why?”
“Because sometimes he lets chicks disrespect our relationship and I have to check him.”
“So you think it’s okay to put your hands on him?”
I shrug. “Well, yeah.” She frowns. “I mean, no. Well, if he didn’t do stupid stuff to piss me off.”
“Now, that’s crazy,” she says. “Maybe he’s not who you should be with, then.”
I frown. “Why you say that? I love him.”
“Putting your hands on someone isn’t what love is or what it does.”
“Have you ever hit Winston?”
She smiles, shaking her head. “No. And I never will. That man downstairs loves me and he allows me to love me. And that makes it easier for me to allow him to love me. Winston is a good man. I’m not going to do anything to ruin that. I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving every moment of him, and me, and the life we build together.”
I smile. She looks and sounds so happy. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks. Now come on and get your funky butt up and showered and dressed so you can watch me crack Mom’s face with my news. You know it won’t be the same without you there. Besides, Thanksgiving is about family and the blessings that we have to be thankful for. It’s about being thankful that you are surrounded by love, even when you’re mad at the ones you love, or when your parents have put you on punishment until you’re old and wrinkled.”
I laugh. “Whatever.” She stands up, pulling me up from the bed. We hug. “Thanks for the talk. It really means a lot.”
“That’s what big sisters are for. Now, are you coming to dinner with us or not?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
She smiles. “Good. Hurry up and get ready. I’ll go tell Daddy you’re coming with us. He’ll be happy. And, believe it or not, so will Mom.”
I roll my eyes up in my head. “Okay, give me a sec.” I watch as she walks out, wait a few minutes until I know she’s downstairs, then pull my TracFone from out of its hiding place. I call Sincere, smiling when I hear his voice.
“Hey. . .”
“Sincere, I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I know you do. You’re my everything, Sincere.”
“And you’re mine, Miyah.”
“I know I am. That’s why I wanted to call you and tell you how sorry I am for hitting you and spitting on you, and for keying up your truck and going through your phone, and anything else I’ve ever done. I am so, so sorry.” I feel myself getting really emotional. I try to stop myself, but the tears fall. “I hope one day you can forgive me for everything that I’ve ever done.”
“I already have,” he whispers. “Miyah, you drive me effen crazy, girl, literally. But I’m not going anywhere. As long as you keep your hands to yourself, I’ma always be your man.”
I smile. “I promise you, Sincere. You don’t ever have to worry about me putting my hands on you, ever again. But don’t get too excited.”
He laughs. “Uh-oh. What now?”
“Like I said, I promise you I will never hit you or break up anything that belongs to you. But I can’t promise you that I won’t go off, or get real nutty, if I find out you got another chick all up in your face, ’cause I’ll probably still beat the ho down. . . .”
He laughs. “You crazy, Miyah.”
“I know I am; only for you, though.”
“That’s wassup.”
“Still . . . you better not be up in no chicks’ faces while I’m doing this bid. And I don’t want you Facebooking it up, poking it up, or tagging it up with none of them hoes either.”
He keeps laughing. “I got you, Miyah. Chill.”
“You doing this bid with me, or what?”
“Yo, you funny as hell.”
“I’m not laughing. I don’t know when this punishment thing is gonna be over. I need to know my man’s gonna ride it out with me.”
“So, I’m ya man,” he teases.
“Boy, don’t play. You always gonna be my man.”
“That’s wassup.”
“Look, I gotta go,” I whisper into the phone. “I think I hear someone coming. I don’t want anyone catching me with this phone.”
“A’ight, go on before you get yourself in more trouble.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he says all sweet and sexy. “Hey?”
“Yeah?”
“I miss you like crazy, girl.”
“I miss you, too.”
He hangs up and I toss my phone back in its hiding place, then race around the room to get ready to spend Thanksgiving with my family. Okay, maybe I do have a whole lot more to be thankful for. Okay, okay . . . I do have a lot to be thankful for. Maybe I’ll apologize to my parents today, before Erika drops the bomb on them at the dinner table. Then again, maybe I won’t. Anywaaayz, I know I can’t pick my parents; that I’m kinda stuck with them. But I can definitely pick and choose how I wanna deal with them. Daddy is always gonna be my favorite ’cause I know I have him wrapped around my finger. OMG!! Speaking of fingers, my fingernails are a hot mess! How in da heck am I gonna leave this house with my nails all raggedy?! Oh no, this is not it! I gotta get these raggedy claws handled before I go anywhere. Anywaaayz, let me go get fly. I need to let all know, and see, that the diva is baaaaack, okay?! I’ll holla!
34
Three months later
OMG, guess what? I am finally off punishment! And I get my car back tomorrow! And I’m living with Daddy full-time. The Wicked—oops, I promised Sincere and my therapist—yes, I’m in counseling—can you believe that ish?! Me in counseling, like I’m crazy or something! Mmmph, What. Ever! Anywaaayz, I promised them that I would work on not calling her that anymore. I’ll let you know how that works out. Anywaaayz, my mom agreed to not try to force me to live with her if I didn’t wanna be there. And I didn’t. And I still don’t. Ohmygod, it’s so much better at Daddy’s! I mean, he’s stricter than before—well, his version of being strict ’cause he still gives in to me, but not as much. I know just how far to push it with him. Still, Daddy lets me make mistakes and doesn’t make me feel judged, like the Witch—I mean, my mom—does. And guess what? She and I are talking now. Well, thanks to my therapist, who, okay. . . I really, really like.
Okay, anywaaayz . . . get this. She and Daddy are in counseling, too. Can you believe it? Yup, they both realized that they have their own stuff to work on, which is fine by me. Shoot, fix your own stuff before you try to fix mine. Anywaaayz, I heard—okay, okay, I was eavesdropping. You know how I do. So, I heard Daddy tell my mom how much he has resented her for shutting him out emotionally and how angry he’s been at her for being so controlling. And she told him how she resents him for moving out. That she felt abandoned by him. OMG, and then I heard her crying. I have never, ever heard—or seen—her cry about anything, not even when my nana died. I almost started crying, too. I felt so bad. And I felt so guilty overhearing—okay, okay, eavesdropping—on all of that. That was simply TMI, for me!
Anywaaayz
, my grades are back on point. That one bad marking period was all it took for me to pull it together. Okay, okay . . . and that whooping and being put on punishment for like forever. Still, that was not cute, okay. Kamiyah Mychele Nichols is a straight-A student, boo-thang! And I ain’t gonna be getting Bs, Cs, or Ds on nothing else, ever again.
Hold up, hold up . . . wait, wait, wait a minute! Guess what else? I got my audition letter for Juilliard. Yeeeeeeeah!!! My audition is next week. You have no idea how excited and nervous I am. Getting into Juilliard will be the greatest dream come true. Oh, besides having Sincere in my life, of course.
Speaking of my boo. He should be pulling up any minute. We’re going roller-skating and out to eat. Then later on tonight, he’s gonna hang out with his friends and I’m gonna hang out with my FFFF’s (my Fly Fine Friends Forever—in case you forgot). Now, hold up. . .I have no idea where he’s going and who he’s gonna be with. And guess what? I didn’t ask. Nope. I sure didn’t. I have to trust him. Well, um, let’s say I’m giving him the illusion that I trust him ’cause I still have my night-vision binoculars, and I still have that tracker on his phone. And I will use them if I have to. But so far I haven’t had to pull out my binoculars in a minute. And I’ve only used the tracker system twice. And so far he’s been on point.
Still, a girl’s gotta keep her eyes on her man. That’s why I’m still checking his Facebook and e-mail accounts—not every day like I used to, though. But every so often I do a run-through. I don’t care what anyone says, I’ma keep my eyes on him ’cause I know how boys—okay, some boys—do. And I’m not the one! OMG, but wait! I can’t believe I actually threatened my parents that I was gonna run away and get pregnant by Sincere if they tried to keep me from him. Now that was craaazy for sure! But I know some girls who do dumbness like that. Not me! Mmmph, dumbo.com! Shoot, I’m not tryna have no one’s babies. Not even Sincere’s. Well, not until he marries me. Okay, here he is now.
