Our roots run deep, if only you took the time to visualize, soon the real picture will crystallize, and you will see that everything isn’t as it appears to be.
If Weeping Willows could really weep it would……
If Weeping Willows could really……
If Weeping Willows……
If Weeping……
If……
No! Weeping Willows will never truly weep. That’s just me, for the past three…weeks …or…maybe I’m just…WEAK!
Chapter 4
I look in the mirror one last time before leaving for school. I’m not conceded, I would like to think that GOD has given me my looks to compensate for this shitty life I was born into. I believe if he would have hit me with the ugly stick on top of having a psycho for a father, I would have taken a razor to my wrist a long time ago to end my suffering. Believe me; I have contemplated suicide numerous times, lately more than usual. If I’m being honest, contemplating is not the correct word I would actually use. Tried…tried, that’s the word I’m looking for. I tried to take my own life before, but something deep within me spoke, demanding that I release the razor which shook in my hands on several occasions.
Maybe, it had something to do with the three week suspension or maybe it has to do with my dad’s lunch time visits to, “check in on me”. Well, that is the excuse he gives to my mom.
It’s disturbingly funny how people look at me as if I have it all.
They take in my looks, my material goods, and envy me. If they only knew…I’ll trade all of this shit for a little bit of normalcy. I’ll trade my looks, my clothes and my car for a dad who really loves me, loves me the way a dad is supposed to love his daughter. I’ll trade it all for a mom who isn’t blinded and consumed by her own problems and work, to know that her child is screaming for help. I will trade all of this bullshit for those two things.
But, I can’t trade, I can only be me. So, I hide behind my looks, my Gucci, my Jag and all my expensive rags. I pull it on everyday as if it were my body armor. I hide hoping that someday someone will see the real me, the true me, the scared me and I pray that once they find me, they will disarm me of this heavy suit that I have no other choice, but to carry around.
Until that day comes, I will continue to write my pathetic letters to a GOD who appears to not care what happens to me. I will spill my hurts and my anguished pain in scribbled literal coded poetry of my miserable life. I will vent, I will cry, and I will demand an answer from GOD on why he has forsaken me. No matter how many letters I write to him in secret they are always unanswered.
So, I will continue to look in my mirror and boost my own eagle, I will dress in designer labels and ride in luxury. I will be perfect Amber Wallace until someone finds out that I am Broken Amber Wallace.
*****
I pull into my usual parking spot at Timber Falls High School, that’s when I spot my girls Keisha & Emily. Keisha Dixon is shorter than me; I would say 5 feet 2 inches. She has a round face, pug nose, almond shape eyes and she’s a little plump. I can’t call her fat, the boys’ call it stacked. She is always rocking the latest urban gear. I would describe her as designer hood. She comes from a good home with both parents, who both have good jobs. They don’t mind spending the money for Keisha’s hood gear.
Keisha is the oldest out of five children. My nickname for her is Little Momma. The girl is always cooking, cleaning and making sure her sisters and brothers never go without. If you asked me to describe her using one word I would say, RESPONSIBLE.
There have been plenty of times when Emily and I have asked Keisha to go out with us and she has graciously declines. Not because she was blowing us off, but because her sisters or one of her brothers needed help with a puzzle or they simply wanted to spend time with her. I have never once heard Keisha complain about the things that are asked of her. She is in the most simplest of words, SELFLESS. I have loved her since the third grade as if she were my sister.
Emily Stewart, now there’s a looker. We have been friends since the seventh grade. Emily has hair that hangs down her back in natural curls. Emily’s mixed, her mom is white and her dad’s black. You have a lot of people out there that loves to put labels on a person’s nationality, but I’m not one of those people. Emily, on the other hand loves labels, labels are her specialty. She wears the most expensive designer labels that other kids our age probably haven’t heard of. Nothing is more over the top than the label she puts on her nationality. She doesn’t go with the more obvious and call herself black or mixed. Noooo…hold on to your seats, she calls herself MULATTO. She reached far back in our history for that little designer label of her nationality.
Let’s just say, the first time Keisha and I introduced ourselves to Emily it could have went south real quick if it wasn’t for Keisha’s perfect timing and ability to turn uncomfortable situations into jokes.
*****
“Hey, you’re new here?” I stated the obvious, to the new girl.
“Yeah.” That simple answer was not good enough for me. So, I pushed forward.
“Well…my name is Amber and this is Keisha.” I pointed at myself and Keisha with a smile on my face. I was trying my best to give off the friend vibe.
“Good to know.”
Now, this rude chick is really getting on my nerves. I should kick Keisha in her fucking shins for talking me into introducing myself to this stuck up girl. I plastered my winning smile on my face, which happens to look a little more strained at this moment.
“Hey, are you mixed?” Maybe she is more inclined to answer direct questions.
“Are you?”
She actually countered my question with a question of her own. Who does that? I’ll tell you right now, she won’t be making any friends here if she doesn’t can the attitude.
“Matter of fact, I personally am not mixed, but my mother is. Hey Keisha, doesn’t it seem as if this conversation is going a little one sided to you?” Who in the hell does she think she is? I stare at her and in my mind, I encourage her to BRING- IT- ON!!
“To answer your question, NO… I am not mixed,” She said this with a disgusted expression on her face. “I’m mulatto.”
This was said with her chin held high. I actually knew the definition of mulatto, but Keisha on the other hand had no clue what mulatto was. The expression on her bewildered face confirmed that. At this point, I knew exactly what kind of snob we were messing with. For one, she can’t even own up to her nationality.
”Listen here you uppity b…,” Keisha interrupted me mid word.
“What is a mulatto?”
Before, I let this uppity bitch spew off some bullshit to my best friend on what her definition of a mulatto is; I decided to steal her thunder. I turn to Keisha to explain exactly what this chick is.
“A MULATTO is exactly what I said she was in the first place! Drum rolls…queue the drum rolls friend! She issssss MIXED! One of her parents is black and the other is white. Way back in the day, offspring of such unions were called mulatto.” How about that history lesson?
I turned toward with the biggest smile plastered on my face. Now what, how was that explanation, you mixed bitch! The smile sporting on my face spoke the words my mouth currently wasn’t. The tension was broken by Keisha’s cackling laugh.
“Damn Amber, study much!!” The new girl and I turn to look at Keisha and joined in with the laughter.
“My name is Emily.” She stuck out her hand and introduced herself for the first time. “Girl, you must study because a lot of people don’t know what the hell I’m talking about when I tell them my nationality. It’s good to know I’m not going to be the only smart one in this school.” She said while laughing.
“Hey!!!” Keisha gave a pointed look at both Emily and me. “Emily, with you being new and all, would you like to come over to my house after school to hang out with me and Amber?”
From that day forward we have been inseparable.
*****
As I stated before, she’s a
looker, she has a body that would put Beyoncé to shame. Where Keisha loves to rock the latest sneakers, you wouldn’t catch Emily dead in pair of running shoes. It’s just not her style. If you asked me to describe Emily in one word I wouldn’t be able to. I would need at least three words to describe her, OUTSPOKEN OBNOXIOUS BITCH, and I love her to pieces. She doesn’t take shit from anyone. Keisha and I are so laid back compared to her. People can talk about us all day, we’ll let all the insults roll off like oil on water. If someone even looks at Emily the wrong way, they should prepare themselves for the on-slot of Emily’s verbal assault, they’re well known around these parts.
Emily loves the boys and the boys love Emily. What’s that saying, Guilty by association? Keisha and I should be the poster kids for that little slogan. We are bitches and sometimes sluts because…let’s just say, Emily has been pretty loose with her cookies. And, since Emily is so loose with her cookies everyone thinks Keisha and I do the same. If I’m seen talking to the opposite sex the rumor-mill starts. We have Emily to thank for the entire name calling. But, those are words, empty words. I raise my head, straighten my shoulders and keep it moving. No matter how much bad press we receive by being Emily’s friend I cannot turn my back on her. She’s my girl, my sister in way, and I love her and Keisha more than anyone that’s currently in my life.
These two, I can tell them anything…almost anything. I tell them as much as I can and I stuff the rest deep inside me. I’ve know them so long that we can pick up on each other’s ups and downs. My point is that they can tell when my home life is getting to me. I tell only bits and pieces of my personal story. I leave enough blanks so that they can come up with their own perception of what’s going on in the Wallace household.
What are their views on things? Well, let’s just say they’re close, but no cigar. They think my dad is the root of my erratic mood swings. Correct! They believe that my dad is very strict. Correct!
They believe that he is controlling. That controlling motherfucker or that strict son-of-a-bitch! Those are their two most famous sayings when describing my dad. I must say that they are correct on that front as well.
Here come my two amigos now, Keisha, with a hop to her step and Emily, this bitch should pay a lawyer to patent her walk. I can’t begin to describe it to you, it’s not a switch, not even a sway. The best description would be its sex on two legs. I’m straight, never in my life have I been interested in twats instead of cocks, but that walk, that walk right there, will make the straightest person take a double take and say DAMMMM!
“Are you glad to be back?” Keisha asked a little too loud since she hadn’t exactly made it to my car.
“Hell yes!” I was a little too excited on the prospect of my first day back to school. “What have I missed? What’s the latest gossip? Who’s dating who? You tramps are moving a little slow on telling me the scoop.” Emily let out a shaky laugh and shook her head at me.
“Girl calm down, you’re like one of those little annoying yappy dogs…on crack I might add. What the hell did you think we were meeting you at your car for?” Keisha starts to laugh at me as well.
“Whatever, you two can laugh all you want. Why don’t you try being out of school for three weeks, living in total hell. You’ll act like a cracked out Chihuahua too.” I took a moment to take a breath and smooth out my psycho smile as I exhaled.
“Okay, okay, I’m calm, I’m fly, and I’m worthy. Now tell me the fucking scoop!”
“Girrrlllll, I don’t know about all that shit you just listed off. Calm, fly, worthy…what the hell is wrong with you. Amber, sometimes I swear you scare me. Have your parents taken you to a shrink lately because you totally need some one on one time with a doctor. Preferably, a hot doctor in his twenties with a banging body.” I couldn’t help it, I had to laugh. Emily has always been a smart ass.
“I wish! For real, what’s been going on?”
“Wellllllll,” Keisha, dragged out that one word, that one word that held so much promise. “We have a new student that enrolled right after your suspension.” She let that sentence sit there to hang and marinate for a few seconds. The look on her face spoke volumes; she wanted me to pry the rest of the story out of her.
“And?” I said exacerbated because she didn’t give any more information than that.
“And, he’s mine!” Emily piped up.
“Girl, you are delusional!” Keisha said this with a smile. “Amber you should have seen it. Miss. Beautiful bodacious Emily, comes swaying her sweet ass up to Chase. Oh, I forgot to tell you, his name is Chase…Chase Mitchell. So anyway, here comes Emily with her hoochie choochie come get me walk and stands by Chase’s locker to introduce herself.”
“Shut up Keisha! I’ll tell the fucking story myself, thank you very much. Anyway, I introduced myself to him that’s all. Period! End of story!” Keisha’s laugh was so unexpected I jumped because of the suddenness of the outburst.
“Girl, he looked at you and said hi as if you were an annoying mosquito and walked away. He hasn’t said shit to you since.” Keisha extended her left arm and smacked it with her right hand as if she were swatting a fly. “Poof, you’re gone!” Keisha said, continuing to laugh at Emily.
“You know what Emily? Every guy doesn’t want you. Obviously, this Chase fella is one of them.” I was trying to give my girl a little sisterly advice.
“Ain’t that the truth!” Keisha said adding her two cents.
“Fuck all the advice from the peanut gallery. I really don’t care to listen to any of this crap right now. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I mean, how can any guy turn this down?” She had the nerve to spin around for us. She begins to run her hands over her assets, her ass being the main asset she’s focusing on at this particular moment.
“I’ve come to the conclusion that he must be gay. Which means, Amber, I’ll graciously hand him over to you.”
My mouth gape open at that. Number one, how can you give something away that’s not yours for the giving? Number two, because this man is not interested in her ASSETS she automatically comes to the realization that, he is gay! Number three, do I fucking have a gay magnet tattooed on my forehead?!
“What the hell do you mean that you’re giving him to me because he’s gay?”
“Amber, don’t take it the wrong way, but you’re like the spokesperson for, ‘If you’re gay or bisexual and you need a listening ear call me at, 1-800-choose slits or dicks!’”
“You know, that’s not fair! I really don’t think helping one person by being a listening ear, hardly makes me a gay shrink!”
“That so called, one person, was partially the cause of your three week suspension! And, before you start yelling about secrets, I haven’t mentioned a single word to anyone about Jason coming out of the closet to you. I would like to give props when props are due. That advice about not double dipping…girl, boy…boy, girl was great Dr. Wallace!”
“You know what; I don’t have time for this shit today, Emily. Make sure you keep your mouth shut about Jason. I told him that I wouldn’t go running off at the mouth and I’ve kept that promise! Besides you and Keisha, no one else knows.” I gave Emily a pointed look.
“That queen should have known that you were going to tell me and Keisha!” I closed my eyes and kept repeating, breathe in and breathe out.
“Emily, that queen is my friend. Granted, he might not be a best friend, but he is my friend. That queen as you refer to him, did know that I would probably tell you and Keisha his secret and he gave me permission to tell you. He knew that you two would rather gouge out your left eye before betraying my trust. That’s what he counted on and I counted on the same thing.”
“Well, if it’s a choice between my gorgeous, left- fucking- eye and telling the whole fucking world that he prefers Adam rather than Eve, Let me be the first one to say, I’m keeping my goddamned eye! Keisha on the other hand, can go around looking like a crazed bat, on summer’s eve’s crack, if she wants too with no goddamned left eye. The
choice is hers! But, when it comes to my perfection and his sexual lie…I’m just saying, his secret is not safe with me!”
“What? Emily, shut the hell up! GOD, you are so vain!”
“Children…children stop all the bickering. Can’t we all just get along! Come on, the warning bell has already rung. We better get to our classes.” Keisha, always being the peace maker and the voice of reason, we fall in line and head to class.
Dear GOD,
I apologize for not writing you sooner than this, but my life has been hell for the past month. The word around town is that you’re all seeing, so, you should already know that. People say, when you die you either go to heaven or hell. I think they’re wrong. I believe that I’m living in hell now; there can’t possibly be any other place worse than this.
I’m starting to believe that there is no heaven. Is there even a GOD? Are you real? If you are real, I have a serious bone to pick with you. From what I’ve read and what I have heard you’re supposed to be a loving, caring, and protective GOD.
Spoiled Secrets Page 3
