by T. J. Hope
They all walked off together. She couldn’t help taking one last glance back at Mark, who was staring at her as if he was in a trance. She quickly looked at the girl, who looked back at her with envy as she realized that Jamika and Mark were without a doubt, much more than old friends.
Chapter Twelve
Jamika felt like a whole new world had been opened up to her. She started to smoke marijuana every weekend with her cousins. They would go out to different nightclubs, partying and getting high. The marijuana made Jamika have a confidence that was hard to find without it. It also made her feel as if she belonged.
Mark had finally stopped calling after she’d stopped accepting his calls. He’d called consistently for two weeks and even stopped by a few times. Jamika wasn’t interested in hearing from him or seeing him. She knew that Mark was her weakness. She preferred being alone, to being played. Deep down, she really missed him.
It was Jamika’s senior year in high school. Jamika found herself working harder to keep up in school these days. She was tiring of the daily hair and fashion show, and the guys trying to get with her that were all the same. Her grades had begun to slip. She was already down to a 2.9 GPA from her previous 3.5. She knew her performing arts scholarships would bring her to college, so she had begun to do just enough to get by.
Her marijuana habit was escalating from weekends to daily. She was finding herself with less money to buy things she needed. Felise was busy with her new boyfriend and did not notice the changes in Jamika. Jamika did not get along with Felise’s new boyfriend, Ed. From the very first conversation they’d engaged in; they’d clashed. Jamika felt like she was nearly an adult and no one was about to jump right in and play daddy. She didn’t trust him; after all, he was a male.
Rasheeda, who was now ten, did not like him either. Jamika felt awkward knowing that when she went off to college, her younger sister would be there some days alone with Ed. Men just couldn’t be trusted.
Jamika was now driving. Felise bought her a 1987 Buick Regal from an auction for six hundred dollars. It was a beat up, old piece of car that Jamika referred to as her “hoopty”. The brakes had been acting up on the car for about a month now. Jamika had been procrastinating on getting them fixed.
She was on her way to pick Nalisha up for a special performance at the Sunrise Musical Theatre. It was a Christmas performance that would be featuring Roberta Flack, Sheena Easton, Peabo Bryson and James Ingram. The black gospel choir at Dillard Performing Arts, of which Jamika and Nalisha were both members, had been invited as the guest choir to sing backup for the artists.
Jamika pulled into Nalisha’s driveway with a loud screech and a toot of her car horn. Jamika was envious of Nalisha, because she had gotten a lead in one of the songs where she would step out front with the artists to sing. Jamika had tried out for the part as well. Ms. Johnson had sprung the audition on them a day earlier than expected. Jamika had been high that day. Jamika was paranoid, wondering if she was looking or acting “high”. She paid such close attention to hitting the notes that she left out her natural flow and emotion. Nalisha had gotten the part.
She had really started to despise Nalisha. She was always preaching to Jamika about her marijuana habit. She was becoming quite irritating. For some reason, that night, the whole performance was irritating Jamika. She wished she’d stopped to buy some weed. She could really use a hit. After the audition incident, she’d promised herself never to smoke before a performance. She decided she would stop to buy some on her way home.
She leaned over to unlock the door so that Nalisha could get in.
“What’s up, Mika?” asked Nalisha excitedly.
“This concert. Do you have everything?” Jamika said flatly.
“Yeah, I got everything. What’s eating you?” Nalisha asked, leaning forward to look at Jamika’s eyes to see if she was high. Jamika noticed what Nalisha was looking for and instantly became even more irritated. They reached a stop light with a loud screech. Nalisha commented, “Girl, you need to get that fixed. My dad says when your brakes sound like that, then there isn’t any padding left. It’s just metal rubbing against metal. That’s why it takes it longer to stop. That’s really dangerous.”
Jamika looked at her with a “get your ass out and walk then” look. She really wished she had a joint. Then she remembered the two Newport cigarettes she’d gotten from Monie earlier. She would usually only smoke one to bring her buzz back up after smoking a joint. She reached over to open the glove compartment and it fell down heavy and hard on Nalisha’s knees. Nalisha yelled out, “Ow!”
“Sorry,” Jamika said flatly, while fishing out one of the cigarettes and pushing up the glove compartment. She pushed in the cigarette lighter.
“Girl, you’re smoking cancer sticks, too? What are you going through? You are really changing, Mika. You are acting really different and you—” Nalisha stated, genuinely concerned for her friend.
“Shut the fuck up, damn!” Jamika yelled cutting her off, “you don’t know shit about me. You have no idea the shit I’ve been through. You all cozy in Brady Bunch land with your family. If you want a ride, just chill out. Stick your head out the fucking window if it bothers you that damn much!”
Nalisha was shocked that Jamika would speak to her that way. She just looked at Jamika in disgust. Jamika was no longer the girl she met on the first day of high school. She was afraid Jamika was getting into things that she would regret in the future. She decided to just roll down the window. She looked out at the passing scenery quietly, and made a mental note to find another ride home.
***
The concert was a success. The choir sang beautifully, and the artists were exceptionally good within their own rights. James Ingram sang a solo privately for the choir and handed out autographs. Ms. Johnson was taking the choir out to dinner as a reward for the great job they’d done.
Jamika said her goodbyes. She wanted a joint much more than she wanted a free meal. Nalisha had found someone else to ride to the restaurant with that would bring her home after. Jamika was glad for small favors like that.
Once Jamika was back in the car, she pulled off her black and silver choir gown. She quickly slid into white Daisy Dukes shorts, a blue and white wrapped shirt, and strapped sandals. She laid her choir gown across the back seat neatly so that it wouldn’t be wrinkled.
She drove along singing with the radio, until the spot where she purchased her marijuana came into view. She pulled in, lowered the music, turned off the lights, and let the engine idle as she walked quickly to the side of the building. She tapped on the window and almost immediately, a voice whispered, “Yeah.”
“Let me get a dime,” Jamika whispered back, passing a ten-dollar bill through a tear in the window screen. A small, plump bag was passed back through the same tear. Jamika quickly returned to her car.
It had begun to rain. She decided to see if Monie or Shaquita were at Millie’s. That way, she wouldn’t have to ride around alone in the rain smoking. They could smoke over there. She plucked the staple from the bag and inhaled the smell of the herb as she drove away. She then tucked it firmly into her brassiere and headed for Millie’s house.
She slammed hard on the brakes to stop for a hidden stop sign and slid into the intersection. “Shit!” she screamed as the car came to a halt. “I am getting these fixed first thing tomorrow. Thank goodness there weren’t any cars coming,” she said to herself. She was startled by someone behind her blowing their horn. She pulled over to the side to collect her thoughts and to calm herself.
It started to pour rain, so she decided to sit there a while to see if it would pass. Ten minutes later, it was still coming down. She could see other cars passing by, but only their head and taillights were visible. She felt unsure about driving with her brakes, with such low visibility. She felt just as unsure about sitting where she’d pulled over. She had pulled over right by the Government Apartments, known as “The Gov”. Around there, robberies, rapes and murders were common occurr
ences.
Jamika would only pass through there on her way to or from somewhere else. She had never actually stopped there for anything. It cut off a good five minutes in travel time to go through there to get to Millie’s. She’d started to feel like taking her chances with the rain would probably be smarter than continuing to sit there. She also didn’t want the water to rise too high under her car and stall her out.
She made sure her door was locked, and fetched the other cigarette from her glove box. She looked behind her for oncoming traffic and began to back out. She heard her lighter pop out and lit her cigarette. As she turned to look behind her again to back out, she noticed what looked to be someone standing behind her car in the rain. She instantly became afraid. She decided she’d just go forward.
When she looked toward the front of the car, someone was standing there as well. Jamika looked frantically around, and realized she was surrounded. Jamika began to put her car in gear. Before she could, a blunt object was thrown through her windshield. Jamika felt the glass splintering her skin. Then the side windows were being burst out. She heard the door locks being opened.
The men seemed to open up both sides of the car simultaneously. The one that opened the passenger door was searching the car. She felt a hard blow to the head. The one closest to her was snatching her gold nameplate necklace that she’d had since freshman year from her neck. She couldn’t fight, she couldn’t think. She welcomed the light sleep that was overtaking her. She could faintly hear the men talking to each other.
“Do you think she’s dead, man?” the one now searching the back seat was asking. “No. She fucked up real bad though. I almost got this last ring off her finger.” That was the last thing Jamika heard.
She was coming to and heard faint voices. She figured she’d better remain quiet so that the men wouldn’t hurt her any further. She then recognized Marjorie’s voice and opened her eyes; around her stood Felise, Ed and Marjorie. Rasheeda was asleep on the La-Z-Boy chair in the corner. Everyone seemed to stop speaking when they noticed that she was awake. Jamika felt like she was coated with ice and said, “I’m fr-fr-freezing.”
“I’ll go get the nurse,” said Marjorie.
Before she could walk out, a skinny blonde nurse, with a peaceful smile came in to lay a heated blanket across Jamika. Jamika pulled the blanket up to her chin and closed her eyes to welcome the warmth.
Ed was the first to speak. “Her little grown ass could have gotten killed. You need to slap some sense into her. What the hell she was doing in The Gov with weed on her? What kind of girl are you raising here, Felise?”
Felise looked worried, hurt and confused all at the same time. It wasn’t like Felise to let anyone talk about Jamika that way, but for some reason, this time she was unable to get the words to the surface. She began to hold Jamika and cry.
Marjorie was outraged by Ed’s outburst and responded accordingly. “Nigga, pa-leeze! We all have been teenagers, we all have hit a little green, and we all have made mistakes. Don’t you dare come in here trying to make my daughter feel bad. She does her best with these girls. Now, what the hell she’s doing with you is a different story altogether. Her daughter has just had a traumatic experience and you around here talking shit. Better her than me, because I shoot niggaz—”
Ed looked at Marjorie with hate and headed for the door. “I’m leaving!”
“Bye!” Marjorie screamed after him. Felise still looked shaken. Marjorie suggested that Felise and Rasheeda go home with Ed. She offered to stay and look after Jamika, and promised to let them know the full story on what happened as soon as she knew.
Jamika was relieved that they had gone. Marjorie always acted like a close friend. She always felt comfortable talking to her. They had become even closer lately, because Felise had become preoccupied with Ed. “How are you feeling, baby?” asked Marjorie. “Well, Grandma. I feel weak, hurt, ashamed and scared,” whispered Jamika.
“All of that at one time, huh? Tell me what happened.”
Jamika recalled how she had been heading to Millie’s to smoke a joint after the performance.
“Now, I have to tell you something. I want for you to stay strong for me, alright?” asked Marjorie.
“O-Okay,” Jamika stuttered, uncertain.
“Meek, you lost your baby.”
“W-what?” Jamika said, thinking she was hearing wrong.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” asked Marjorie.
Jamika was shocked into temporary silence; she hadn’t known she was pregnant. She had realized that her period was abnormal, but it hadn’t stopped completely. She thought her increase in appetite and weight was from all the food she was eating, because of all the marijuana she was smoking. The last person she’d had sex with was Mark. That was nearly five months earlier and they had used a condom.
“Grandma, I didn’t even know I was pregnant. How far along was I?” she asked.
“You were nineteen weeks,” answered Marjorie.
“I used protection,” said Jamika, still not believing that this could be possible.
“Well, the only real protection is abstinence, and we can hang that up, because you know what it feels like now. God knows best. It wasn’t your time to be a mommy yet. You can come stay with me until you heal. Your mother is not taking this very well.”
“Heal? I just hurt a little. I should be able to go back to school in a few days. I’m fine, really.”
Marjorie looked remorseful, “Oh my granddaughter. You have had a rough little life. I am going to let you look in the mirror, and I want you to always remember that whatever we go through in life that doesn’t kill us, just makes us stronger. You’ve been dealt so many lemons, it’s up to you to make it into lemonade.”
“But I don’t want to see a mirror, Grandma. I know my hair is a mess.”
“Shhh, baby.”
Marjorie handed Jamika a mirror. Her reflection resembled something from a horror film. Jamika’s face had gashes and wounds where the glass sliced her face. She was stitched up in at least three different places. One of her eyes was half-closed and bloodshot, and her top lip was badly swollen.
Her stomach swirled at her reflection. She began to yell, “Why me? Why me? Why does everything bad always happen to me?”
Marjorie went over to hug Jamika. She then told her, “Meek, this will all heal. It’s going to take some time, but you won’t look like this forever. I’m going to sit right here with you until you soak all this in. Then, we’ll go to my apartment and I’ll cook you up something really good.”
Jamika watched as her grandmother turned the lock on the hospital door and placed a towel beneath the door. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw her grandmother pull out a marijuana joint wrapped in 1.5 cigarette paper. She lit it. She inhaled the smoke and passed it to Jamika.
“But, Grandma…”
“Don’t you ‘but Grandma me. There isn’t anything wrong with smoking a little reefer. I’ve been smoking since before I was your age. The secret is that you do not let it control you, and no one needs to know that you do it. Now, go ahead and hit that. That is good, natural herbal medicine right there.”
Jamika had always known that her Grandma Marjorie was cool. She could tell her anything, and she never judged her or made her feel like she was a bad person. She had been living with Marjorie for a while and loved living there. Jamika would keep the house clean while Marjorie worked and in the evenings, they would talk, play cards, smoke joints, and watch television sitcoms. Marjorie was helping Jamika’s wounds heal physically and mentally.
One day, while Marjorie was at work, Jamika heard the bells of the neighborhood ice cream truck. She hadn’t been outside since she’d moved in. She was embarrassed by the gauze that she still wore wrapped around her head and face. Yet, she wanted an ice cream cone so badly; she could taste it. She decided that it wouldn’t harm anything to run out to the truck and come right back inside.
Just as the truck was leaving, she reached i
t to make her order. She reached in her pocket to get out a dollar and a hand that was the exact color of her own, reached out and covered her hand. She heard a voice say, “I got it.” Jamika looked up to see a handsome, young man smiling at her, and handing over a dollar to the ice cream truck attendant. She instantly felt ashamed and wished that she hadn’t come outside.
“Thank you…uh…for the ice cream,” Jamika said.
“No problem,” he said.
Jamika noticed that the guy looked vaguely familiar. She could not place him in her mind, or think of where she might have met him before. Jamika realized that she was staring at the guy and figured she should say something.
He was the same dark brown as Jamika, but with islander features, sensitive eyes and short dreadlocks that looked exotic. “I like your dreads, they’re cute,” Jamika complemented him sincerely.
“You’re cute,” he returned quickly.
Jamika could see right through him. She knew that all men were the same, and she told herself that she would never let her feelings get caught up again. Besides, how could he call her cute? Only her eyes and nose were visible through the bandages. Jamika decided to call him on it.
“I might look like a monster under this. How can you say that I am cute?”
“Hmmm…well, I really hope that you don’t. The last time I saw you, you were beautiful. You were the absolute definition of a Nubian princess. I knew that it was you, simply by the way that you walk. I could never forget that sexy ass walk. Frankly, I always hoped that we would meet again.”
So she did know him from somewhere. “Excuse me, but have we met?” asked Jamika.
“Yes, about a year and a half ago. Your friends and family were throwing you a surprise party. Your cousin, Kenya or Kiyah, something like that, invited me. I saw you two earlier that day in the mall.”
“Oh yeah, I remember now. That was my cousin, Kita. You didn’t have dreads then though. I think we danced together that night at the party,” Jamika remembered.
