Then I thought of Dr. Peterson and repeated in my head the things that she told me. I needed to let go of these thoughts and these demons. Holding onto my past had turned me into a woman who didn’t deserve the wonderful man that walked out of my home for good a few hours ago, and I no longer wanted to be undeserving.
“I just want to know who my father is. Do you know?”
As he spoke, Jesse let out a sigh of relief, as if he’d waited all of my life for the opportunity to finally tell me. “Yes, I know who he is.”
“How long have you known?”
“I’ve always known.”
I looked at him in shock, but he still avoided my eyes and stared into the yard.
“Your mother didn’t know that I knew, but I knew. I worked nights damn near every night. There was shit being fixed around the house that I didn’t fix. He lived on the block and was always around. I knew.”
“So, if you knew, why not tell me? Once she was dead, why not tell me?”
“It had been fourteen years. By that time, I considered you my daughter no matter what.”
I fought to contain myself. I spat my argument at the side of his face since his weak ass still couldn’t look me in the eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?! You considered me your daughter, but you beat the shit out of me anytime you felt like it! Do you molest your other daughter too, or was I just special?!”
Jesse cringed as the words left my lips. Then he said, “I loved your mother so much, but she really hurt me. I missed her when she died, and you reminded me so much of her. You look just like her…”
“I didn’t come here for this shit!” Whether to cut off the memories or to cut off whatever sick shit he was about to say, subconsciously I couldn’t take anymore. “I just want to know who my father is.”
Though his elbows hit his knees and he buried his face in his hands, I could still hear the name as he answered. “Tim Caldwell.”
I heard him, but I had to process it. “Lyric’s father?!”
Again, he was sighing with relief, like a thirty-year-old burden had finally been lifted. “Yes, Vic. Your mother had an affair with Lyric’s daddy. Tim Caldwell is your father.”
TRICEY
Blood and I were sitting in front of the County waiting on Star to be processed and released.
We were both excited for her, but there was thick tension between us.
I don’t know where he slept the night before. He never came home and I was too scared to call him. However, when I text messaged him asking if he wanted to come with me to pick up Star because she was being released, he came right away.
Yet, the ride was silent, and as we sat and waited, he played music and acted as if he was so into his iPhone that he couldn’t look at me.
I couldn’t have my sister leaving one hellhole just to enter another, so I took a chance and prayed that Blood wouldn’t bite my head off.
I cut the radio off, but he continued to stare into his phone.
I touched his thigh and he merely said, “What’s up,” while continuing to stare into his phone, so I took it out of his hand.
When we finally locked eyes, I could see that he didn’t hate me.
He was just saddened and frustrated by my dumbass decisions.
“Baby, I know that you were there while I was leaving Amiel. I know that you saw me crying and emotional, maybe some things that you don’t see in me for you. I was insecure and uncertain when I was with Amiel. Yes, I was emotional and in my feelings, but that was because I was unhappy. I love you differently, but I love you better. I am so secure and comfortable with you. I know that you love me and that you will always be there for me. I never had that with Amiel, and maturity has shown me that someone like that could never give me what you are giving me.”
When he reached for my hand and held it gently, my heart relaxed. That small gesture told me that I had been given yet another chance, and I was so grateful.
“I hate that we have gone through so much for these past two months because of somebody who doesn’t deserve it. I am so sorry for not telling you that I contacted Amiel, and I will never hide anything from you again. I will always make sure that you know my every move just like you do for me. I just want to love you. I want our peace and happiness back, and I want you to trust me again.”
Lovingly, he grabbed the back of my head and kissed me on the forehead. “I love you too, babe… Next time I tell you something, listen to me, and then we wouldn’t be going through this shit.” Then he lovingly smirked at me, and my heart melted.
“You’re right. And I swear next time I’ll listen.”
We gazed into one another’s eyes for a few seconds, and then Blood began to stare happily at something behind me. I turned to meet his gaze and also began to smile. It was Star, trotting down the steps of the County building. Blood blew his horn rhythmically to get her attention, and I couldn’t believe it when she looked towards us and smiled.
It was my sister. Though a bit heavier, rougher, and tougher than she was when she went in, it was indeed my sister and she was finally free.
BLOOD
I could see the smirk on John’s fat ass face when I pulled into the lot of the forest preserves.
It was past eleven at night, so the Dan Ryan Woods were empty and dark. But, from the headlights of my truck, I could see him leaning against that dirty ass pickup truck with his hands in his pockets.
Them jeans had to be Wranglers or something- shit only old white dudes wear.
“The hell took you so long?”
This motherfucka sounded like he was forcing out every word, each word sounding like it was damn near his last. He coughed every five minutes, and every time it was like he was hacking up a lung or some shit.
“Me and the misses had a big day today. You know that.” Then I smiled. He hated when I smiled like wasn’t shit wrong. “What’s the word? Why did you wanna see me?”
John was the Chief of Police. I had been paying this motherfucka a lot money to keep the people off me since I got out of Stateville.
Obviously, he wasn’t doing his job.
“You know why I wanna see you, motherfucker,” he told me with a laugh. “Stop trying to kill my cop. What are you thinking?”
Even though I told him, “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” I couldn’t hold back my grin.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re trying to kill Devin. You’re lucky those motherfuckers have bad aim.”
Yea, I had been trying to set Devin up to get murked, and it was pissing me off that his detective ass had the skills to dodge bullets.
John saw my guilty smirk and shook his head. “I told you that I would get those undercovers out of there. Just give me some time.”
“It’s taking you too long. I pay you to keep shit like this from happening.”
“You’re right. That Fyte started this undercover operation without my consent! But as soon as I found out, I told you.”
“But that was weeks ago and these motherfuckas still around. Lucky for me, Vic was smart enough to Houdini that nigga. But this shit ain’t cool, man. They done had Trevor and NeNe locked up for weeks trying to get them to snitch. Devin know my hands ain’t dirty, so he still tryin’ to set me up to make ‘em dirty. This nigga next to me frontin’ everyday! Iyana in my house being phony with my bitch…”
“That’s what an undercover operation is! Give me time to end this. I know you pay me to keep your hands clean, but can I keep my job and stay off the fuckin’ news?! I gotta end this in a legitimate way. Fyte fucked up when he went behind his undercover’s backs and scooped Vic. Thankfully, Vic was smart and got that stupid ass Detective Gachett on tape. I can use that as leverage to drop this, but you gotta be patient. I can take care of you, but I can’t get you off for murdering cops.”
I didn’t have anything to say, because I couldn’t promise him shit. And buddy knew that.
“C’mon on, Blood.” He was begging me. He put his hands on my shou
lders and spoke to me low and sternly, like a father and a friend. “I put in that good word for Star with the judge for her sentencing…”
“She shouldn’t have been found guilty anyway!”
“But I did that. And now you have to do this for me.”
“I don’t have to do shit! I pay you to do this! CPD, FBI, all them motherfuckas; I pay you to keep the alphabet boys off me, man!”
“I have and I will! I’m taking care of it. I told you about the undercover operation. I told you about Trevor and Nene, and I am making sure that they don’t snitch and that they get out. I’m taking care of you. And I can keep taking care of you if you stop trying to put bodies in bags.”
“Not bodies. Just one. And Imma keep trying to body bag that nigga unless you get him out of my camp… quick.”
a year later ….
Love Me Some Him
One
Saturday, August 4, 2012
STAR
A year later, I was sitting in ninety-five degree weather with Jordan in a park two blocks away from my mother’s house. I was miserable; not only because of the god forsaken heat that was boiling my brown skin, but also because things in my life were wretched as hell.
I looked at my son, watching him as he slid down the slide. It was amazing to me how much he had grown up. Though I had only been in prison for a year, this past year back in his life taught me that I missed a lifetime of memories while I was away.
Yet, it was also amazing how, at that moment, I would have given anything to go back to prison.
Life as a free woman, but a convicted felon, was so fucking hard. When they told me that I was free, that was the last moment of happiness and joy that I felt since then. I was more imprisoned now than I ever was while I was in the County or Michigan State Women’s Prison.
I was still on parole, which meant that I had to report to my parole officer monthly, was subject to home checks, and was constantly being monitored. The only good thing about being on parole was that they actually helped me get a job. They found me a whack ass job at a local grocery store that paid me all of seven dollars an hour.
Not only was I constantly being monitored by the state, but my mother was also constantly down my throat. Who could blame her? She was so nervous about me doing something else stupid that would land me in jail again that every step that I took, every move that I made, that woman wanted full details about it. Since I was paroled to her house, I had no choice but to deal with her constant nagging.
While I was in prison, my mother got full custody of Jordan, and there was no way of me getting that back as long as I was on parole. Therefore, she not only controlled me, but she controlled how I raised my son as well, which added further frustration to my situation. I had always been a very independent woman and a damn good mother, but now I had been stripped of both and was only seen as a convicted felon who couldn’t be trusted to make her own decisions regarding her own life or her son’s.
I was so broke. Every bone in my body wanted to hustle again because, prior to getting locked up, I knew nothing of struggling, being broke, or pinching pennies. My stomach was growling at that very moment. I had two dollars to my name, so therefore couldn’t afford to feed both Jordan and myself off of the dollar menu at any fast food restaurant. Plus, God forbid there was an emergency, I needed to have some cash in my pocket.
The disgust for the boxed dinners in my mom’s refrigerator left me with no appetite regardless of the hunger pains that I felt.
My mother was retired at this point. Therefore, she couldn’t afford to take care of herself, Jordan, and me. Every penny that I earned went to Jordan. But of course seven
dollars an hour wasn’t enough to take care of a toddler. So my mother often picked up the slack, while any personal need that I had was left in the dust.
My mother sold everything that I had to help pay for my first lawyer. I had no car, so now I drove my mother’s when she let me. The apartment that I had before I went to prison was gone. My mother sold all of the items that I bought to furnish it in order to pay the attorney fees. I lived in the same room that I grew up in. It was only big enough for a teenager, but now I shared it with my four-year-old. My weave was synthetic. My clothes were cheap and tore easily.
I would have killed again for a nice meal that was cooked by a professional chef, or simply not served from a plastic tray after being heated in a microwave.
Finally, I decided to stop wallowing in this heat and my own misery. I called for Jordan so that we could leave. Besides, it was getting late and my mother needed her car back to make it to choir rehearsal.
As Jordan and I walked out of the park, he held my hand. His touch reminded me that, no matter how certain I was that it would fix everything, I couldn’t go back to hustling. I had to stay on the straight and narrow so that I would always be free and able to feel his touch whenever I wanted to.
“Mommy, I want McDonald’s.”
As the words fell from his lips, regret filled my heart.
“I’ll cook for you when we get home.”
“But I want McDonald’s! Pleeeeeeeeeease?!”
Literally, tears filled my eyes. He only wanted McDonald’s. All he wanted was a $2.99 Happy Meal that I
couldn’t even afford. I couldn’t believe that I couldn’t afford to give him that.
He continued to beg so much that I got frustrated. “I said no, Jordan!”
He began to stomp his feet and then put all of his body weight on his feet, making me drag him out of the park.
“I want McDonald’ssssss!”
He started to cry, and so did I.
Hell, I wanted McDonald’s too.
Victoria
I smiled at Taij’s relieved expression as he entered the living room.
“She finally sleep?”
Taij nodded his head in frustration. “Yes, finally. She was so damn hyper today. Did somebody sneak coke in her sugar or some shit?”
He laughed at his own joke, as did I while cringing on the inside at the irony in his words.
Taij sat beside me on the couch. I had been sitting there watching a marathon of Snapped. This was going to be how the rest of my Saturday night would be spent since Taij had to return DeSire early so that he and his fiancée, Kim, could go to the Talib Kweli concert.
“What’s been going on with you?”
I shook my head nonchalantly and answered, “Nothing new.”
“Have you heard anything about Tim?”
Taij was the only person that I told about Tim supposedly being my father. A year later, I still wasn’t ready to face that. So, of course, I didn’t and couldn’t have told Tricey. She would have spent every moment talking me into telling Lyric, or she would have told Lyric herself. Telling Lyric was absolutely out of the question since she had this ridiculous vendetta against me.
I wasn’t even sure if Tim was really my father. When I asked Jesse was he sure, his answer was that he knew that my mother was cheating on him with Tim. But if my mother was sleeping with Tim behind his back, she could have been sleeping with anyone else as well.
I would have liked to talk to Tim myself, to have this conversation with him secretly to see if it was true that he had an affair with my mother and was possibly my father. Had I found him, this secret conversation would have totally been possible since Lyric has no relationship with her parents. Yet, I had no idea how to find him. The only thing I knew of him was what Tricey happened to tell me during casual conversation. I honestly felt no motivation to press the issue.
“Last I heard he was still in and out of the hospital.”
Because of years of alcohol and drug abuse, Tim suffered many ailments, one being Cirrhosis, which was slowly progressing into liver disease because of his inability to stop drinking.
Taij looked at me without saying anything, but I knew what his silence meant. His silence was persecuting me for being so stubborn that, after a year, I still hadn’t taken this seriously enough to find out who my r
eal father was. His silence was shaming me for being so stubborn that I had little to no interest in even finding out the truth.
A short while later, after joking with Taij about random things and confirming the next time he would pick up DeSire, my house was dark and quiet, and I had secluded myself in my bedroom.
The light on the television assisted me as I sat in the middle of the bed balancing a small vanity mirror on my lap and making a few lines of coke to take.
After over a year of using, I used, not only recreationally, but to function normally.
My habit was still a very well kept secret. Nobody but the nigga I bought it from knew that I used. He was some young guy that I met around the school campus where I worked. His young ass tried to holla at me while I was on lunch. It was like I could smell the cocaine on him.
Using put a dent in me financially, though. To make up for the four to five hundred dollars a week habit, I helped Tricey manage a few of Blood’s legal businesses, and, of course, they pay me damn good for that.
My therapist says that I use to avoid the reality of my abandonment. She says that I felt abandoned by my mother, abandoned by a father that I don’t know, and abandoned by Taij, and being high helps me escape the abandoned feeling that has been with me throughout my life. I say, I’m too high to give a fuck about any of that anymore, and I like it that way.
As I took a line, the usual feeling of serenity came over me. My insides relaxed. I was enjoyably calm, though I would be up all night cleaning or pacing because of the inability to sleep.
Therapy had taught me not to allow the normal nightmare of my past to give me the anxiety that I use to live with. Yet, I feared I had substituted one fucked up feeling for another. At first, I got high to forget. Now, I got high because there was no way to naturally feel such tranquility.
Two
Good Girls Ain't No Fun Boxed Set (The SIX romance and urban fiction volumes of the LOVE, SEX, LIES series) Page 84
