The Mixtape

by Cherry, Brittainy

  “What family?” I shouted, not caring about every person who was looking my way. “These two abandoned you at your lowest point, Sammie. They turned their backs on you after something horrific occurred. These people are not your family.”

  “Lower your voice, Emery Rose,” Mama hissed, becoming flustered as she patted her cheeks with a napkin. “The whole point of coming to a restaurant to talk was so you wouldn’t have an outburst. So, calm yourself.”

  “No. I’m a grown woman and I can be loud if I want to, Mama. You don’t get to order me around like I’m still a child.”

  “I will not put up with your outbursts in a public setting. Now, calm yourself or remove yourself.”

  “I will do no such thing. Not until Sammie realizes what a mistake she’s making.”

  “See, Samantha? Do you see how unstable your sister is? Having Emery raise Reese after all this time is a terrible idea. She needs to be in a more structured household, with your father and me. That little girl needs to be raised in a God-fearing household with two parental figures. We can provide more for her than Emery can. What do you think it will do to a little girl growing up without a father figure around her?”

  I sat back in my chair, completely baffled. “Did it bother you that much?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Seeing me that day in the marketplace with Reese. Did it bother you so much, seeing that we were okay without you? That we didn’t have to be controlled by your unrealistic demands?”

  “We’re not doing this, Emery. We came here to allow you to have an idea of what’s to come with Reese’s future. I don’t think you even deserve that privilege.”

  “You know what’s funny?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief. “How you judge us so hard when you made the same choices when you were our age.”

  “You have no clue what you’re talking about, little girl.”

  “I’m not a little girl anymore, Mama. I’m grown. I have my own little girl now. But how old were you when you had me?”

  She tensed up. “Like I said, we are not doing this.”

  “Seventeen,” I said, ignoring her as she tried to change the subject. “And if I recall, you weren’t married at that time, either.”

  She shifted around in her chair and shook her head. Dad held up his controlling hand as a way of silencing me. The number of times I’d seen that hand raised in my childhood to shut me up whenever I had a comment, or a question, or even a random thought, was staggering. That hand had wielded so much power over me, for so long, that even after all these years I slightly flinched from the sight of it.

  “That’s enough, Emery,” Dad said, his voice low, smoky, and controlled. “I will not have you making your mother feel guilt for past sins she’d taken part in that she’s already asked forgiveness for.”

  I laughed, trying to hide my fear of the man who raised me. “Her sins? Last time I checked, it took two to tangle up together and make a baby, Dad,” I snapped. I hated him. I hated what he stood for, how he looked down on women, how he’d controlled not only Sammie and me for our whole youth, but also how he belittled Mama right in front of her face.

  How was it her sins that had gotten her pregnant before marriage, but not his own? Why did Mama have to ask for forgiveness, but Dad simply had to put a ring on her finger to fix his actions? It wasn’t right.

  Nothing about their story was right to me.

  “You shut your little mouth, will you not?” Mama snapped, waving her napkin in my direction. “Your disrespect will not be tolerated, and your assumptions are out of line. Do not ever speak to your father in that fashion again, or so help me—”

  Dad held his hand up to her.

  She fell quiet.

  And the abusive cycle of control continued.

  What would it be like for Reese to grow up in a household like that? What would it mean for her special mind that was filled with wonder?

  Her favorite superheroes were women.

  Dad would quickly stomp that out of her system.

  I turned to my sister, the girl who looked as if she’d been drained of her spirit completely, and I placed my hands in hers. “Sammie, you asked me to be her mother. Don’t you remember? All those years ago, you left, and you asked me to raise her. I did as you requested. Do you know what this will do to me? Do you know how much this would destroy me? How much it would uproot Reese’s life?”

  Sammie wouldn’t look me in the eyes. I couldn’t help but feel as if she was under some kind of spell. All I knew was that the person in front of me looked nothing like the girl I grew up with. She looked nothing like my best friend. She was hollow inside, and my parents didn’t seem to care at all.

  “Drop her hands, Samantha,” Dad ordered.

  Sammie’s shaky grip in my hold released as she placed her hands into her lap. She’d always been an obedient child, never speaking back, never causing trouble, and that didn’t bode well for me in the current situation. I needed her to crack. I needed her to scream. I needed her to have my back the way I’d always had hers.

  Instead, nothing.

  Silence and emptiness.

  I wanted to cry, but not in front of them. They didn’t deserve to see the way they were hurting me. They didn’t need to witness my pain.

  “Well, while this has been a great family reunion, this is where I exit.” I stood up and pushed my purse up my shoulder and turned to my sister. She was fidgeting with her short fingernails, but I knew she was listening. “Sammie, if you need me, I’m always here for you. But don’t think for a second what they are doing has anything to do with making a better life for you. They don’t even know who you are. But I do. So when you need me, I’ll be there. No matter what.”

  “Samantha’s life has been wonderful. Reese’s life will be better, too, without you. She will be raised better and have more opportunities—you’ll see,” Mama said.

  “I hate you,” I hissed, disgusted by the woman sitting there staring at me. With eyes that matched mine. Skin as dark and smooth as mine. She was my look-alike, yet our heartbeats had nothing in common.

  “You think being hated by someone like you could affect me?” she said, her words dripping with coldness.

  I walked away before they could utter another word. I walked away from the ones who were supposed to know me the best but truly didn’t know me at all.

  33

  EMERY

  Five Years Ago

  “She doesn’t like me,” Sammie confessed as I laid Reese down for another nap. She was officially a month old today, and I thought it would’ve been fun to do a photo shoot for her, so we’d have the memories. Sammie seemed less than interested, and when I set up the shoot, she decided she’d rather go for a walk.

  She’d been taking daily walks now, sometimes two, three times a day. I was the only one working and still going to school. When I came home, I was the one caring for Reese while still trying to complete my schoolwork, so my exhaustion was at an all-time high. I was trying my best to not complain, because I knew whatever I was feeling, Sammie was feeling tenfold.

  “That’s not true—she loves you,” I said to comfort my sister.

  “No, she loves you. She hates me. It’s as if she can tell how she was created when she looks at me.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Don’t tell me what’s ridiculous. I know what I see. You’re better with her.”

  “I’m not better with her; we just have different connections to her, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Sammie sat down in the glider chair I’d bought two months before, and she grimaced. I felt like she was always frowning. It had been so long since I’d seen her smile that I was almost certain she was turning more and more into Mama each day.

  I almost forgot what my sister’s smile looked like.

  “There’s everything wrong with that. I’m supposed to feel something for her, but I don’t. I see the way the two of you bond . . . that’s not me.”
/>   “I think you’re overthinking it. These things take time.”

  “It didn’t take time with you.”

  “That’s because I’m not her mother. I’m just an outside figure.”

  “Which is why you shouldn’t be closer to her than I am. But you are.”

  I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Maybe it’s postpartum depression. I looked into it, and I think—”

  “I don’t have postpartum depression! I just want my life back!” she snapped, her words stinging as they hit my ears. “Stop saying I’m weak. I’m not weak, Emery.”

  I narrowed my eyes and shook my head. “No, I’m not saying you’re broken, Sammie. People with postpartum depression aren’t weak; they’re just going through a lot with the changes in their systems. You brought a life into the world. There’s nothing weak about that.”

  She began biting at her nails and shaking her head. “Mama said she doesn’t believe in things like postpartum. She said it’s just an excuse for women to be lazy.”

  “Yeah, well, Mama doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

  “Yes, she does,” Sammie said, standing up for Mama as if she wasn’t the one who’d turned her back on her own daughters. “She does know.”

  “How could she, if she’s never experienced it before? Look, I researched it, and I think it’s worth looking into. We can get you on some medications—”

  “I’m not crazy, Emery!”

  She was extremely defensive about everything, and I felt as if no matter what I said, she was going to snap at me over it. I could say she was fine, and she’d tell me she wasn’t. I could say she needed help, and she’d call me a liar. Nothing I said was good enough.

  But still, I kept trying.

  “Taking meds doesn’t mean you’re crazy, Sammie. It’s just trying to get your hormones in check, is all. Or, you can talk to a therapist. That could help too. Especially with what you went through with—”

  “Ugh!” she cried out, rubbing her hands against her face. “You don’t get it! No one gets it! I just don’t want to do this, okay? I just don’t want to deal with any of this anymore.”

  My heart was breaking, and I wasn’t exactly sure what to do about it.

  I glanced at my watch and then back to my sister.

  Her anger-flooded eyes were now filled with sadness, exhaustion.

  Pain.

  “I’m sorry, Emery. I’m just having a time, that’s all.”

  “It’s okay. I can miss school today and stay with Reese. You can take a break.”

  She stood up from the chair and rubbed the palms of her hands against her eyes. “No, really. It’s fine. I have her. You can’t miss school. I’m going to shower fast and then make some coffee. I just need to wake up more.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure. I’m fine.”

  I moved in and hugged her, wrapping her tight in my grip so she could feel the comfort that her mind seemed to be missing. “I love you so much, Sammie.”

  “I love you too. And I’m sorry for snapping at you. I’m just tired.”

  The whole day while I was at school, my mind thought back to my sister. I wanted so much to get her the help she needed, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it. She refused to acknowledge everything she’d been through.

  When I finished my classes for the day, I rushed home to take Reese off Sammie’s hands to give her a break for her nightly walk. As I stepped inside, I heard Reese howling, and my stomach began to flip. I couldn’t help but think of the day that she and my sister had had. I bet they were both emotionally exhausted.

  “Sammie, I’m home. I know she can get fussy around this time, so I can take her off your . . .” My words faded as I walked into the house to find Reese lying in her crib, screaming her eyes out. “Sammie?” I called out as panic rolled through my stomach.

  I rushed over to Reese and picked her up. Her face was bright red from her burst of emotions.

  How long had she been lying there unattended to? How long had she been alone? Where the hell was Sammie?

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. I got you. I got you, you’re okay,” I said, hurrying to the bedroom to change Reese’s diaper. As I began to change her, I noticed a note sitting on the gliding chair. I couldn’t force myself to read the note right away—not until the sweet little girl had calmed down.

  After Reese was changed, I went and warmed up a bottle. Then, as I fed her and tried my best to soothe the troubled girl, I picked up the letter. A letter that broke my heart with every single word that was written in black ink.

  Emery,

  I only left five minutes before you’re reading this. I saw you pull up from work and went out the back way. I just hope you understand that I can’t do this. I can’t look at her without seeing him. I cannot hold her, without remembering him holding me down. I cannot be the woman that she needs, I cannot be her mother. I tried, and I know you might think that this is something that’s going to pass, but it’s not. I can’t do this. I can’t. I got some paperwork filled out to leave you as her guardian. You’re the right one for this job, and I wouldn’t trust her with anyone else. As far as me, I’m going off to make a new life for myself. I’m going to find my footing in a new city, and I’m going to begin again.

  Please take care of her.

  Raise her as your own.

  You’re the mother she deserves.

  That’s not my daughter. She is yours.

  I’m sorry for leaving, but you both are better off.

  —Sammie

  My teardrops hit the wrinkled paper as I stared down at the words that shattered every piece of me. Then, I went through the apartment and realized that all of Sammie’s things were gone—including her suitcases.

  I called Mama to see if she’d gone home.

  She hadn’t. Mama told me to keep her out of whatever issues Sammie and I were going through. I told her that Sammie was gone, and then she told me it was probably my fault before she hung up the call.

  Sammie didn’t come home that night, or any of the nights that followed. She never came back, leaving me with a child to raise on my own and forcing me to drop out of school. Each night, Reese wailed, almost as if she knew Sammie had abandoned her. Late one sleepless night, as I tried my best to soothe the upset child, I cried along with her.

  Around two in the morning, I heard a knocking at my door, and my heart skipped a beat. I hoped it was Sammie, finally coming back to her senses. Since she’d left, I’d found a list of organizations that could help her through her struggles. I’d made many calls and gathered a lot of information for both victims of rape and new mothers.

  I wanted to give it all to her, I wanted to help her heal, I wanted to do whatever I could to bring my little sister back to me.

  Yet when I opened the door, it wasn’t Sammie standing there. It was a woman I’d seen a few times in the building before.

  “You’re having trouble keeping that baby quiet,” the woman said.

  I was flustered, knowing that Reese had been quite vocal the past few days and that the walls of our apartment building weren’t the greatest.

  “I know, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll do whatever I can to—” I started, but she cut me off.

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not here to complain,” she said, shaking her head with a genuine smile against her lips. “I’m here to help. I noticed that your roommate moved out a few weeks ago, and I figured you were struggling. My name is Abigail. Can I come in?”

  I nodded slowly, beyond my breaking point. “I am sorry about the crying, though. This hasn’t been the most normal situation.”

  “You have a newborn. There’s nothing normal about newborns. I think you’re doing great, truly, but I just wanted to reach out and offer my help if you needed it.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate it,” I said, still trying to soothe the panicked child.

  “May I?” she asked, nodding toward Reese.

  I was hesitant at first, but some
thing about that woman seemed so gentle and caring. I handed Reese over, and within minutes, the woman had calmed her down.

  A sigh of relief rippled through my system as the crying came to a halt. In response, I began to cry. The flood of emotions escaped my body as I covered my face, humiliated by my inability to keep myself together in front of a stranger.

  “I’m sorry,” I said as I took the now-sleeping Reese from her arms and laid her in the crib. “I’m normally not like this.”

  “You are today, and that’s normal too. There’s no wrong way to feel,” she told me. “So, go ahead. Feel it all.”

  That allowance, that gift of being told that every feeling was valid, sent a wave throughout my system, and I began to truly fall apart. I covered my face with my hands and began to break. For so long, I’d been trying to hold my sister together, trying to keep Reese in one piece, that I hadn’t had any time to fall apart myself.

  Abigail came over to me and wrapped me in her arms, soothing me as I cried like a fool against her shoulder. “That’s right, sweetie, feel it all,” she repeated, and I did.

  I felt it all. I felt the fear, I felt the anxiety, I felt the sadness. I felt anger, too, and resentment toward my sister. I felt hurt. Abandoned. Lost.

  I felt it all, and Abigail was there to help me through it.

  “You probably have no clue what’s happening right now. You probably feel like you’re falling apart, but in truth, this is you falling together, sweetheart. Sometimes, part of the healing journey involves falling apart. That doesn’t make you weak; it makes you strong. So, fall apart tonight, and you’ll be stronger for tomorrow. You’re doing great.”

  To hear someone say I was doing great as I sobbed against her shoulder felt untrue; it felt like the biggest lie in the world, but I did as she said. I felt it all.

  34

  EMERY

  Present Day

  Oliver: Do you need me to come over?

  Emery: No. I’m okay.

  Oliver: Do you need me to come over?

  Emery: No. I’m probably just going to fall asleep.