by Landis Lain
“I didn’t know that,” said Sasha, interested despite herself.
“You young folks need to read your history,” said Old Mother Jones. “Learn something.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I graduated from high school at fifteen. Went to Claflin College back home in South Carolina, first. Mama and papa wanted better for me than midwifing on the farm, so they sent me to Tennessee to live with mama’s sister and her husband. He was pastor of a big church there.”
“Reverend Cunningham’s parents?”
“Yes, miss,” said Old Mother Jones, nodding her head. “I got a degree and went to Meharry Medical College where I met my husband, God rest his soul. I was so proud to be living my dream.”
“So, what happened?” asked Sasha.
“Got engaged,” she said.
“And William, he was four years older and was studying to be a doctor, too. He was about finished with his studies and getting ready to move back to Michigan. He wanted a wife to go back to Michigan with him and help set up his practice. I was having none of that. We had a big fight. The end of the semester I took the train back south home to visit my mama. My papa had died the year before in a farm accident and I missed her something fierce. She was my biggest supporter.”
“What happened?”
“I told mama that I wanted to be a doctor more than I wanted to be a wife,” said old Mother Jones. “Mama said I was foolish to give up a good husband who was going to make a lot of money and always take care of me. It was hard for a woman alone. William was going to be a rich black man. I was put on this earth to serve as a helpmeet and I should do that.”
“You are not a doctor?” asked Sasha.
“No,” said old Mother Jones, shaking her head. “Round about that same time, I figured out that I was pregnant. Lord, but the crying and carrying on I did that day out in the cornfields up the road from mama’s house. I begged God not to let it be true.”
Sasha nodded. “I know that feeling.” Her gut roiled at the thought.
“Mama knew but she never said a word,” said Mother Jones. “She didn’t have to. I knew the deal. Those who play must pay. It was time to pay the bill.”
“Oh.” Sasha thought about it. Her eyes widened. “You weren’t married.”
Old Mother Jones continued as though Sasha hadn’t spoken. “William followed me home later that summer and begged me to come to Michigan and be a proper wife. He loved me and was going to take care of me. He didn’t know about the baby coming until he got there.”
“What did you do?”
The old woman snorted.
“Exactly what you think I did,” she said, old pain tinging her words. “I got married, came to Michigan and took the opportunity to serve. I had to think about my husband’s position in the community and about raising my baby. I helped William get his practice started. We worked like dogs. Later, I went to work once the children got up in age.”
“Oh,” said Sasha. The story stabbed like an ice pick at her heart. “That must have been horrible for you. To have to give up your dream, I mean.”
“Yes,” said Mother Jones, nodding. “It was. Absolutely. Devastating.”
Sasha nodded, speechless.
“But, I’ve had a wonderful life. I was married fifty-four years to a good man. I raised my children. Became an administrator. I’m still here. God is still in heaven.”
Ricky stirred in his stroller. Sasha reached for him and picked him up.
“Young girls,” said Mother Jones, with a dreamy smile. “You certainly are dramatic. Think the world ends in a minute. I sure did. But back in the day a mama with a baby and no husband was a bad thing. Couldn’t break the rules without bringing down the wrath of God and mama. Now, you have choices.”
Sasha wanted to roll her eyes.
“Yeah,” said Sasha. “My mama is still mad.”
They both glanced over at Sasha’s mother, who was laughing and talking to the other women.
“And is your mama who’s angry still going to help pay for you to go to school to study to become a doctor?” said Mother Jones, stern and uncompromising. Mother Jones met Sasha’s eyes and held them, her stare fierce.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Sasha, nodding her head. She kissed Ricky’s cheek.
Mother Jones nodded. “That’s all right, then.” She was still old, but Sasha could see the young woman in her straight posture and proud spirit.
“Hand me that pretty baby,” Mother Jones said, holding out her arms. “I haven’t had my hands on a fine young man in a long time.”
Sasha handed the baby carefully to the old woman. Once Ricky was settled to Mother Jones’ satisfaction she focused a stern look at Sasha.
“I seem to remember,” she said. “You like school.”
“Yes.”
Used to love it.
“I’m looking forward to you making us both proud, young Sasha.”
Sasha nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t disappoint me,” said Mother Jones.
“I’ll try not to.”
“More importantly,” she said, reaching over to pat Sasha’s hand, “don’t disappoint yourself.”
EXCITED
July 17,
On the first day of ninth grade, I was sitting at the desk at Southern high school waiting for orientation to start. I had a new outfit; dark purple jeans, a lavender sweater and matching purple patent leather ballet flats. I loved shiny shoes. No matter how bad the day might be, I could look down and see the shimmer of pretty shoes. How bad could life be if my feet were gleaming in the sun light?
“The first three years of high school were the best in my life,” said Sasha.
“Why?” asked Dr. Michelle.
“Because,” said Sasha. “I met Gabby, and for a little while, I felt like I belonged someplace.”
“Who is Gabby?”
“The best friend ever.”
“Tell me about her.”
“Just thinking about her makes me smile,” said Sasha.
***
“Hey,” said the girl sitting in the desk next to me. “I love your necklace and earrings. Are they real gold?” I looked up from the English Lit textbook I was paging through and nodded.
“Yeah,” I said, touching the heart at my throat. “I’m allergic to nickel so I can only wear real gold. My daddy gave them to me.”
“That’s so cool,” she said. She fingered her small hoop earring with one hand. “I wish I had that problem. But I can wear just about anything. I wish my daddy would buy me some real gold but he says I’m too young. I’d be afraid I might lose it, anyway. By the way, my name is Gabby. Well, it’s really Gabriella, but everybody calls me Gabby.”
“Hi Gabby,” I said. I wagged my fingers at her and smiled; a little shy. “I’m Sasha, Sasha Anderson.”
“Hi, Sasha Anderson,” said Gabby with a little wave. “My last name is Moore.
“I love your shoes, too, girl!” squealed Gabby. “Where did you ever find purple patent leather?”
I didn’t have any friends in Lansing, since I had been shuffled back and forth between parents and spent the last two years in Grand Rapids at Althea and Daddy’s house.
“I have lunch fifth hour. What time is yours?”
I checked my schedule and it turned out to be my lunch period, too. Sometimes, I think back on that day and wonder if Gabby and I would have become such good friends if not for that fifth hour lunch. The first hour bell rang, and we got down to school work. We met up at lunch to talk.
“So how do you like Southern so far?” asked Gabby.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t really know anybody so it’s a bit scary. The boys all say hi. Some of the other girls have been weird, but I ignore them.” I shrugged.
“That’s because you are so pretty,” said Gabby. “You remind me of Beyoncé.”
“Do I?” I asked, uncertain. The last time I heard that compliment was from Teddy and his opinion was not reliable. Gabby cocked her
head to the side.
“Yeah,” she said. “A little darker hair. But I think you are lots prettier.”
I blushed.
“Nobody is prettier than Beyoncé,” I protested but I was thrilled. “You are, too. Really pretty, I mean.”
And she was. Gabby was a little bit taller than my 5’7” and slimmer. She had gleaming white teeth and deep chocolate brown skin. Her short black hair was cut into a cute little chin length curly bob that moved when she moved. Gabby laughed.
“Thanks,” she said.
We talked about our favorite music artists and everything else we could think of. I hated math and Gabby was hopeless at writing, so we resolved to help each other. We loved Destiny’s Child and the new stretch pants that we were both dying to get. Gabby’s phone had pictures of shoes she saw online that she had been begging her mom to buy her. She was a total tech head. Gabby lived about two miles from Mama’s house and her parents made her go to the same church that my mother went to. Gabby played soccer and ran track. She invited me to soccer tryouts. I made plans to go out for soccer, too. I was so pumped just to bask in her happy.
“I think we are going to be best friends!” said Gabby. She was so bright and cheerful.
“You think so?” I asked. I had never really had a best friend before. Moving back and forth from Grand Rapids and church three times a week made time for friends scarce. I knew tons of kids, but they weren’t close.
“ROD Pinky Promise,” said Gabby, holding out her hand, pinky finger straight and the rest bent into a fist.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It means ‘Ride or Die,” said Gabby. “Once we promise, it seals the deal. We have to be best friends always.”
“Okay,” I said. It sounded weird, but I stuck out my hand, pinky up and she linked them together.
“ROD Pinky Promise,” we said it in unison and then we both laughed. We kept chattering. We got so engrossed that we almost missed the start of sixth hour and had to run to class.
“Glad you ladies could take time out of your busy schedules to join us,” said the teacher, a tall, dark bald man named Mr. Darnell. The rest of the class looked at us.
We looked at each other and smiled.
“Some detention might help you be more serious and get to class on time,” said Mr. Darnell. I could tell he wasn’t mad, because his eyes were smiling. He was serious, though, about getting to class on time.
I looked at Gabby. She flashed a bright smile and said, “No, sir. We got this. It will never happen again.”
She winked at me and just like that I fell in love. And not weird love either. It was like I had always known her. I had a best friend. And she loved me back. ROD Pinky Promise.
SEPARATED
Aug. 22,
Whoever said all good things must come to an end sucked big time but knew exactly what he was talking about. Even Mama’s bible says there is a season for everything. I just wish my happy season had lasted forever. Or at least beyond 12th grade…
“You don’t mention any friends beyond Gabby,” said Dr. Michelle.
Sasha shook her head.
“I moved around a lot when I was little,” she said with a shrug. “Mama and Daddy fought over me for a while. I changed schools when they married and moved to new neighborhoods. When I settled into one place at Mama’s, I was the outsider. Most girls seemed kind of superficial and mean, clique-y, you know? The boys were always trying to talk to me. After the mess with Teddy, I wasn’t trying to talk to any boys.”
“I see.”
“I was different.”
Dr. Michelle nodded. “How?”
“At church, they were always talking about girls being pure,” Sasha said. She snorted. “I wasn’t pure. I wasn’t like everybody else. I didn’t fit in. But I kept quiet about it. I didn’t tell anyone. Everybody decided I was stuck-up, I guess.”
“I can see that happening,” said Dr. Michelle.
“Gabby and I had a great friendship. We hung out and played soccer. We were both on the team, but mostly she played dazzling soccer and I just wore the uniform and watched from the sidelines. I was decent but not on fire, you know? We went to the mall and played at the make-up counter. We wore fly clothes. You can relate to that,” said Sasha, batting her eyes.
Dr. Michelle laughed and smoothed her black leather skirt over her thighs. “Yes, yes I can. Excellent one.”
Sasha continued. “Gabby was pretty and popular. I was cute, too, so I got to be fly by association. We didn’t have too many girlfriends, because the guys all liked us. Girls can be so catty. We were smart, too. We had each other, and we were enough.”
“When did things change?”
Sasha thought about it. “End of Junior year. Gabby got asked to play on a travel soccer team. They play all year long, both indoor and outdoor. Gabby wanted to be a lawyer, but her possible dream was to play on the Women’s Olympic soccer team, so being invited to play on a travel team was awesome. We were both so excited for her we cried!”
“So, you were happy for her?”
“Well, yeah. She was my friend,” said Sasha. “I was sad too because I missed her. Her parents were cool. I could go to some of her tournaments.”
“And did you?”
“A few a first, but they were every weekend. I got a job at the coffee house on Waverly, so I couldn’t go. I missed her, but it was okay because she was living her dream. We talked on the phone all the time. We were going to try to go to the same college and room together.”
“What happened?”
“Craig ‘Dragon Dog’ Frazier,” said Sasha. She shuddered and rubbed her arms with her hands.
“You want to elaborate?”
“He came into the coffee shop one day. It was like a football Saturday at Michigan State, so we were dead, because everybody was at the game or at home watching it on television, you know?”
“Oh yes, I went to MSU,” said Dr. Michelle. She threw up her hands. “Spartans Rule! Football Saturday, regular life stops in East Lansing.”
Sasha nodded. “I thought Craig was really good looking, you know? He told me I was beautiful, and he liked my long hair. Everybody at school acted like he was the man. I didn’t know he was the gang leader then. He was dressed like a regular dude. He was cocky, and he had a nice ride. He asked me out.”
“Did you go?”
“Not at first,” said Sasha. “I had seen him around school and he always had some babe draped all over him. I’m sure he didn’t notice me. It was summer, though and there I was, all alone.”
“So, he pursued you?’
“Yeah,” said Sasha, nodding. “He would come into the coffee shop and talk to me while I was working. He started bringing me little gifts. He bought me stuff, like jewelry and clothes. He’d tell me to come to a party and get me in free. Then, I found out he was a Death Lord.”
“What did you do?”
“I confronted him, and he was all like, ‘so what.’ He treated me nice, what did I care what he did when he wasn’t with me?” Sasha shrugged. “He made it seem like he was just hanging with his boys, you know.”
“What did your mother say?”
“She didn’t know at first. She was working a lot,” said Sasha. “She’s a biochemist and there was always some big project or other. She trusted me. I was almost 18. I was smart.”
Sasha paused and leaned her head back against the chair. “I was so stupid.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Craig had these flunkies, you know? They were his Death Lord boys. They would do some awful things to people. I saw it at parties. They were smoking weed or worse and drinking all the time. I knew about it, but Craig was nice to me so, I ignored it,” she said.
“What happened?”
“I gotta go to the bathroom.”
Sasha got up and went to the bathroom. After she finished washing her face, Sasha scrubbed her hands and took a deep breath. She left the bathroom and sat back down.
“D
o you want to keep going?” Dr. Michelle looked concerned.
“We started having sex,” said Sasha, flatly. “I thought he loved me. I wasn’t a virgin so there didn’t seem to be any reason not to.”
“And?”
“He was kind of rough, but I didn’t know any difference,” said Sasha. She hesitated. “Dr. Michelle?”
“Yes.”
“How come boys don’t have to be pure?”
“I don’t know,” Dr. Michelle said. “The rules got screwy somewhere in time.”
“Hmph.”
“What happened?”
“School started, and Craig got arrested for possession,” said Sasha. “He went to jail for a couple of days until his boys bailed him out. He thought somebody narc’d on him. He had his boys drag this boy out of school and they beat him down, nearly to death.”
“And?”
“They all started wearing the colors in school,” said Sasha. “I hadn’t even told Gabby we were dating but when she found out she hit the ceiling. Craig had on his purple and black gear. He put his arm around my shoulder in the cafeteria. Gabby was all, leave that fool alone. Talking about he was a criminal and was going to get me killed.”
“What did you say?”
“I got indignant and told her to mind her own business,” said Sasha. “I told her she was just jealous because I had somebody who loved me. He was different with me. We fought about it and for a couple weeks we didn’t talk. She called me and apologized. We got back to being friends, but we couldn’t talk about Craig, you know? We weren’t perfect anymore. I stopped calling her, stopped confiding in her. She kept trying, but she was busy, you know? It wasn’t the same.”
Sasha paused and raised tortured eyes.
“I dumped my best friend for a boy,” said Sasha. “And a demon boy at that. The only time I met her, his own mama called him El Diablo. She was from the Dominican Republic and spoke
