by Cairo
“Niggah-coon, boom!”
I disconnect, then scroll through my phone. I press the CALL button. “Hey,” the caller says.
“Sugah-boo, this niggah-bitch is really gettin’ outta hand. He called here talkin’ real crazy. Talkin’ ’bout he owns me. The niggah comin’ with too much goddamn drama for me. And you know I don’t drama.”
“I know. I told you this was crazy. I’m tellin’ you, you have no idea what kinda niggah he is. He’s ruthless. They all are.”
“Oh I know exactly what kinda niggah that bitch is. And I’ma fuckin’ pull his cord real goddamn soon. And I’ma let his wife know what kinda snake-niggah she’s married to.”
“Trust me. She already knows.”
“Then she’ll hear it again. Don’t no motherfuckin’ niggah threaten me. I’m done with his ass.”
“Maybe we should just let it go.”
“Oh no! We gonna ride this shit out. I’ma hood bitch, and the two things we don’t do is, run from shit or let it go. No, no, no. We sit and we wait, then when a bitch least expects it, we strike. I started this. And I’ma finish it. So, buckle up, goddammit! We gonna put ’em all outta they misery.”
Nothin’ else is said. Another call rings through as I’m endin’ the call. It’s Da’Quan. I smile. “Niggah, why I ain’t heard from ya ass in over a month? And you ain’t even been home once since you’ve been back to school. Who you fuckin’ on campus, niggah?”
He laughs. “Ma, chill wit’ all that. I ain’t messin’ wit’ no one.”
“Lies, niggah, lies! I know you slingin’ dick somewhere.”
“I’m still a virgin,” he says, crackin’ up. “I ain’t thinkin’ ’bout these broads, Ma. I’m good.”
I frown. “You ain’t suckin’ no dingaling, is you? I mean . . . if you are, I’ma still love you ’cause you my child, but I’ma fuck you up.”
He keeps laughin’. “Ma, chill. I don’t swing like that. I’m chillin’. I got friends, but ain’t nuthin’ serious. You told me you wanted me to stay focused and that’s what I’m doin’. I ain’t tryna get caught up in no drama. I’m tryna graduate, feel me?”
I smile. “Oooh, that’s my boo. I’m so proud of you, Da’Quan. Did you get the package I sent you?” He tells me that’s one of the reasons he’s callin’. He thanks me. Tells me he loves me and wants me to come down to his school and spend the weekend. I don’t do regret or guilt, but I do feel bad that I ain’t been down to his school except one time when he first got accepted. “Boo, you know I don’t do the south like that. But I’ma drive down for the day. Maybe fry up some chicken, whip up some mac ’n cheese and a big pot of greens—oh, and a peach cobbler—for you while I’m there.” If I ain’t learn nothin’ else from Beulah I learned how’ta throw down in the kitchen.
“Daaayum, you got my stomach growlin’ now. I just wanna see you, Ma. You sure you aiight? I had a bad dream that sumthin’ happened to you.”
“Real shit, Cass. Don’t have me fuck you up . . . I own you, bitch . . .”
I shake the niggah’s voice from my head. I ain’t even about to tell him about JT’s nutty ass. Da’Quan’s always been so protective of me, more so than Darius and Jah’Mel. And he’s the one who I know would put a bullet in a niggah’s face if they tried to hurt me. Oooh, I miss his ass. I don’t know why he ain’t go to Rutgers or Kean University instead of goin’ way down to D.C.
“I miss you, too, boo. And, yes, I’m fine. You ain’t gotta worry about me. You know ya brothers all got my back.”
“I know, Ma. But you gotta be careful out there, okay? Promise me, aiight? I don’t want nuthin’ happenin’ to you. You all I got.”
I blink. What in the world is goin’ on? Da’Quan ain’t never talk like this. “Da’Quan, is everything, okay? You worryin’ me, boo.” He tells me everything’s good with him. That he’s worried about me. I try ’n reassure him that I’m okay. That the niggahs in the streets look out for me. But he ain’t tryna hear it. He wants me to come to D.C. to see him, or send him money so he can come home. I don’t want him comin’ home unless it’s for the holidays, only. I don’t want him gettin’ mixed up in no shit while he’s here. All them lil’ niggahs he used to run with in high school are in jail or dead. And I ain’t tryna lose him.
“ ’Quan, boo. I’ll bring ya brothers to come see you in a few weeks, okay?”
“Aiight, cool. And what about Asia? I wanna see her, too.”
I swallow. “Boo, Day’Asia ain’t a part of this family anymore.”
“Whaat?! What are you talkin’ about, Ma?” I give him the rundown. Let him know how nasty ’n grown the lil bitch’s been. “Ma, that ain’t cool. You dead wrong for puttin’ her out on the streets like that. She was def outta pocket for not beatin’ that chick down, but you outta pocket too. What Darius say?”
“Nig . . . ” I catch myself from bringin’ it to him. “Da’Quan, you know I ain’t ever tolerate no disrespect from you boys so I ain’t gonna have it with her.”
“I know, Ma. But she’s a girl. Anything can happen to her.”
“Well, that’s too damn bad. She shoulda thought about that before she turned on me. She stood there and let that ho put her hands on me and didn’t do shit ’til I tried to beat the lil’ bitch’s face off. Then she gonna try ’n pull me off’a her. Oh, no, Day’Asia fucked up, boo.”
He sighs, heavily in my ear. “Ma, I don’t like it. Fuck her up if you gotta. But you gotta let her come home.”
I roll my eyes. “She’s fine right where she’s at, ’Quan. She’s with Dickalina.”
“Miss Lina? She ain’t fine there. She’s prolly over in the projects doin’ God knows what. You know Miss Lina ain’t watchin’ her. She can barely handle Candy and Tina. You gotta get her home, Ma.”
Oooh, I’m tryna keep it sweet ’n classy, but Da’Quan is tryna do me. And I’ma go off in five, four, three, two . . . one. I take a deep breath. Bite down on my bottom lip to keep from givin’ it to him. “Da’Quan, please. Don’t do me. We gettin’ along and I ain’t tryna get messy with you ’cause you know that’s not how I like to do it. Day’Asia made her bed. And now she gotta learn how to sleep in it. And if the streets eat her up alive, oh well . . . she’ll have no one to blame but herself. I love Day’Asia, but that bitch tried to do me. And I ain’t havin’ no bitch turn on me, livin’ up on me.”
He sucks his teeth. “Ma, I gotta go. I’ma hit you one day next week. Give me Asia’s number. I’ma talk to her.” I rattle off the number to him. “Aiight, Ma. I’ma holla. Please let her come home.”
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him. But I ain’t thinkin’ about shit. My mind’s made up. We say our good-byes, then disconnect.
Thirty-Nine
“Hello, Ma?” the voice on the other end says. I glance at the time. It’s eight o’clock in the goddamn morning.
“Who is this?” I ask sarcastically.
“It’s me, Ma . . . Day’Asia.”
The poor thing’s been tryna talk to me for the last two weeks and I been keepin’ her ass on ice ’cause I told you she’s dead to me. Well, not really. But the bitch still on ice. I grunt. “Mmmph. Oh, now I’m ya Ma. How can I help you, Day’Asia?”
“I wanna come home?”
“Oh, no, boo. You don’t have a home to come home to.”
“Please, Ma. I’m sorry.”
I sit up in bed. “What you sorry for, Day’Asia, huh?”
“For everything,” she says, soundin’ like she’s on the verge of tears.
“Oh, no, boo. I don’t know what everything means. You need to spell it out to me so I know what the fuck you mean by everything.”
“I’m sorry for not listenin’ to you and for talkin’ slick. I’m sorry for not doin’ my chores or keepin’ my room clean. I-I-I’m sorry for cuttin’ school and for sneakin’ Bunz into my bedroom.”
“Day’Asia, boom! You ain’t sneak that niggah in. You walked his ass up in here how a bold bitch does it. Like fuck me ’cause you go
nna do what the fuck you wanna do. You real grown with it, boo. And two grown bitches can’t be up in here.”
“I’ll do better, Ma. I promise.”
“Mmmph, lies! Why you turn ya back on me, Day’Asia, huh? Why the fuck you stand there and let that hoodrat bitch slap me and you ain’t jump on her ass, huh, Day’Asia? You turned on me.”
“I was m-mad at you.”
“Bitch!” I scream, jumpin’ outta bed, pacin’ the floor ’cause this ho got me wantin’ to fight. “You can be mad all goddamn day at me, but you ain’t ever supposed to let that shit stop you from havin’ my motherfuckin’ back. You ain’t ever ’posed to let some bitch in the streets disrespect me. I don’t give a fuck what kinda beef me and you got. We ’posed to have each other’s goddamn back. I ain’t never, ever, turn my back on you. I’ve fuckin’ whored and tricked and fought to keep you and ya brothers with a roof over ya goddamn heads and clothes on ya backs. I did that shit ’cause that’s what I’m supposed to do as ya mother. But I ain’t ever supposed to let you turn ya goddamn back on me and be good with it. Oh, no, boo-boo. I ain’t checkin’ for no bitch who ain’t ridin’ shit out with me.”
“I know, Ma. I-I-I’m sorry.”
“You hurt me, Day’Asia! You let that ugly bitch disrespect me! We was supposed to fuck her up together. But, nooooo! You did me like I was some bitch on the street. And I ain’t jump on ya ass like I was supposed to either. I ain’t ever fuck you up like I do these boys. I let ya black ass get away with a lotta shit, Day’Asia, ’cause you the only girl. But you bent over and told me to kiss ya funky ass and I don’t appreciate that shit one goddamn bit! You wanna be out there whorin’ with them dumb-ass bitches Clitina and Candylicious, then do you. But you ain’t comin’ the fuck back up in here. You ain’t a loyal bitch.”
“Maaaaaaaaaaa, puuuuuhleeeeeeze,” she says wailin’ in my ear. “I won’t e-e-ever d-d-do it a-a-again. I p-p-promise. I’ll h-h-have ya back. I w-w-wanna come h-h-home.”
“Listen, stop with all the goddamn tears. This ain’t Hallmark. And I ain’t givin’ out no pity or no motherfuckin’ sympathy cards. You made your choice, Day’Asia. Now you gonna have to live with it. You tried to do me, boo. And now ya ass is done. I put up with Dickalina’s dumb ass ’cause we girls. But I ain’t puttin’ up with no dumb bitch livin’ up in my house.”
“Maaaaaaaaaa, plllllllllleeeease,” she screeches into the phone. Now I ain’t gonna front. Day’Asia’s ass is like me, she ain’t one for sheddin’ no tears. So this does kinda have me feelin’ a lil’ soft around the edges. But not enough to let this bitch back up in here. “I’m s-s-sorrrrrry. Pleaaaaaase, Ma, let me come home.”
“Oh no, Miss Hot Ass. I ain’t acceptin’ no apologizies today. You can’t come back up in here. You wanna be grown, remember? Talkin’ all goddamn slick to me. Fuckin’ in here all up on my goddamn sheets. Skippin’ school and not bringin’ ya black ass in this house when I tell you to. You wanna get Dees and Effs on ya motherfuckin’ report cards, like school don’t mean shit to you. Coon, boom! I’m not havin’ some hot pussy bitch who I can’t trust up in here.”
She coughs and cries and sniffs. “I promise . . . I’ll . . . listen to . . . you.”
“Lies! If you don’t wanna stay where you at, then go take ya ass to Philly and stay with ya brokedown fahver.”
“I-I-I don’t wanna . . . stay wit’ . . . him.”
“Well, then, that’s too goddamn bad. Now don’t call me no goddamn more.”
I disconnect. My heart aches. But that bitch gotta learn you don’t disrespect ya mother and you don’t ever turn ya ass up to someone for them to kiss it when they’ve been good to ya and have always had ya goddamn back.
I feel myself gettin’ kinda choked up. But I ain’t goin’ there. I pick up my cell and call her ass back. When she picks up, I can tell she’s still cryin’. I tell her to have her ass here on Saturday at ten in the mornin’. I tell her that she’s to come alone and meet me in the backyard, on time or don’t come at all. “You wanna come home, you gonna have to fight ya way back up in here. If you whip my ass, since you a bad bitch, you can come home. So be laced up and ready to fight.”
I disconnect, then crawl back in bed under my covers. I wipe a tear that’s slid down my cheek, then shut my eyes, tryna hold back the rest that are rimmin’ my eyes. I’ma fuck her up real good!
“Fight me, bitch!” I urge, pushin’ Day’Asia. She stumbles backward. We’re in the fenced backyard, alone with nothin’ but space and air between us. All of the boys are with their fahvers—surprisin’ly, so it’s just me and this traitor. She looks a mess in her raggedy wears: a pair of pink Juicy sweats from last summer all twisted up in her ass and a white long sleeve Tee with the word JUICY FRUIT stretched over her big titties. Day’Asia has always been tall and thin, but it looks like she’s lost at least ten pounds. She really didn’t have much of an ass before but now her shit’s really flat. The only thing that’s right is her hair. Dickalina done laid it out in a bob and put burgundy highlights in it. But I’ma ’bout to fuck it to pieces so it don’t matter.
I have on an old pair of light blue tie-dyed 7 For All Mankind stretch jeans, a thin blue long-sleeve hoodie and a pair of baby-blue Timbs on my feet. My face is slathered in Vaseline and I have my weave in one long braid tucked down in my shirt and the hood up over my head and tied tight so Day’Asia can’t grab my hair. I’m in my fightin’ stance, bouncin’ around, throwin’ jabs and brushin’ my thumbs across my nose.
“I don’t know why you come here with ya hair all done up when all I’ma do is snatch it outta ya goddamn scalp. You ain’t no real street bitch.”
My kids know I don’t take no shit. And they know how far to do me before I go from classy to ghetto to hood-crazy. Day’Asia done kicked it up to the latter, and now I’m ready to wear her ass out. And she is scared shitless! I’ve been pushin’ and shovin’ and slappin’ her and she still hasn’t swung, yet. “I wanna fight, bitch! I’ve been waitin’ all goddamn week for this.”
I punch her.
“Fight me!”
“Plllleeeeease, Mom,” she pleads. “I don’t wanna fight you.”
“Yes you do, ho.” I slam my shoulder into her, knockin’ her backward. “Hit me, bitch!” I push her. “Do me like I’m one’a them bitches out in the street.”
I punch her upside the head.
She throws her arms up over her face and head, tryna block my blows. She starts cryin’. But she knows not to run from me. Not if she wanna get her ass back up in this house. “I-I-I d-d-d-don’t . . . wanna . . . fight . . . you.”
“Then why you raise up on me, huh, Day’Asia? Why when I told ya black ass you couldn’t leave up outta this house you tried to leave anyway, huh? Why you yank ya goddamn arm from me?” I slap her, again. “Why you try to do me?”
“I-I—”
Before she can get the rest of her words out, I grab her by her shirt collar and swing her to the ground. “Why you do me, Day’Asia, huh, ho? Why you turn ya back on me, bitch? And now you don’t wanna fight me!” I hook my hands up in her hair and start draggin’ her around the yard. She’s screamin’. But I don’t give a fuck. “You gonna fight me, bitch? You gonna be a woman about ya shit, huh, Day’Asia?”
“Owwwww, Mom . . . puhllllleeeeeeeeze. I don’t wanna . . . puhlllllleeeeeeeze. I’ll do whatever you . . . want . . . ”
I jump on her and start punchin’ her like a wild woman. “I will kill you, Day’Asia. Is that what you want, huh? You wanna be dead, don’t you?”
“N-nooooo . . . ”
“Then why you do me, huh? Why you turn ya goddamn back on me and let that dirty hoodrat bitch disrespect me?” With my left hand pressed around her neck, I dig my nails into her throat, then smack her with my right hand. She’s gaspin’. “I will take a box cutter to ya face, Day’Asia, and gut ya grill out. Is that what you want? You want me to peel ya goddamn face off? Fight me, bitch! Do me—”
Outta nowhere, I feel hands on me, tryna
yank me off Day’Asia. “Yo, Ma! What da fuck is you doin’, yo?!” It’s Darius and he’s tryna pry my hands from around her neck.
“Let go, Ma, before you hurt her. C’mon, Ma, get da fuck. Off. Her.”
It takes him a few minutes to finally wrestle me off her. And when he finally does, I am crazed, practically foamin’ at the mouth. She’s heavin’ and coughin’ and gaspin’. Her bottom lip is busted and her nose is bleedin’.
I spit at her. “Get yo’ ass up and fight me, bitch! I told you if you wanna get back up in here you was gonna have’ta fight ya way back in.”
“Ma, what da fuck is wrong wit’ you? You fuckin’ wildin’ yo!”
“Niggah, stay the fuck outta this! This shit ain’t got nothin’ to do with you. This is between me and this lil’ disrespectful bitch.”
“Fuck that! What da fuck is you sayin’? This shit’s got e’ery-thing to do wit’ me. You’se my moms and you out here beatin’ my sister down like she’s some fuckin’ stranger in da streets. That shit ain’t cool, yo.”
He yanks me by the arm, tryna manhandle me.
I slap his face. “Niggah, you done lost ya mind, puttin’ yo’ motherfuckin’ hands on me.” I jump up on his ass and start punchin’ him. He tries to restrain me. Outta the corner of my eye I see Day’Asia finally pullin’ herself up off the ground.
“Get off her!” she yells, chargin’ him. She punches him in his back. And he lets go of me. Then it’s on. “Mind ya fuckin’ business. I wanna come home and you messin’ shit up for me!”
“What da fuck?! Bitch, how da fuck you gonna jump on me when I saved yo’ ass from a morgue trip?”
“Niggah, you don’t call ya sister no bitch! Have you lost ya motherfuckin’ mind?”
Next thing you know, me and Day’Asia jump him, rippin’ his shirt off and punchin’ him up. We go all upside his head. And I know he’s tryin’ not to hit either one of us so he tosses us around the yard. First, Day’Asia gets slung, then the niggah slings me. But as soon as he swings one of us off of him, the other is right back at him. The niggah can’t keep up, but he ain’t willin’ to go down ’cause he knows me and Day’Asia gonna stomp him to his grave once he drops.
