Demarco yanked away from him. “A kiss is all I said. And I told you to forget about it because I would be working late and wouldn’t be able to pop up to catch her and you come over anyway nigga? And shit went a whole lot further. So yeah. You were being tested too. Any man that was always trying to down a man’s wife even if she wasn’t worth shit is doing it for a reason. I’m not dumb. Get the fuck out, Dame!”
“Fine, choose that rat bitch over your boy!”
Silence and no one moved.
“So before I leave, tell me this, ’cause I have bills: are we still cool or we done over that bitch?”
Demarco ran out of the living room. I panicked and raced after him. He was going into his office where he kept his guns. I watched him snatch his nine. No! My heart sped up. I blocked him. “Demarco, what the fuck are you doing?”
He roughly shoved me out of the way. “Shut up, bitch.”
Dame approached us. When he saw Demarco’s gun he froze and placed his hands in the air. “After all these years we been friends you gonna get a gun? What you gonna kill me over this slut?”
Demarco stood still as a statue and mean mugged Dame with his gun aimed. Then after a few seconds he shrugged and dropped his hand at his sides. “No. You right. I’m not gonna kill you. ’Cause you dead to me already, nigga. Get the fuck out my house.”
Dame shook his head like he was hurt. “D?”
“Get the fuck out!”
Dame sighed heavily, turned, and walked away. The living room door slammed with his exit.
Defeated with the entire situation I went back into our bedroom and sat down on the bed.
Seconds later Demarco stood in the doorway. When I looked up at him he smirked at me in disgust and shook his head at me. “I always knew you weren’t shit.”
In rage I grabbed my iPhone off the nightstand and threw it at him. It hit him in his arm. “You piece of shit motherfucker! You talking? You were fucking. I heard you and her, you bast—”
Demarco was on me in a flash and slapped me so hard I flew across the room.
Chapter 13
Dominique
When I came home from school I heard nothing but yelling. Uncle Dame whisked right by me with blood on his face.
“Uncle Dame, you okay?” I asked him.
He wouldn’t give me eye contact, just mumbled, “Bye, baby,” and walked out the living room door.
I could hear my mother and father yelling. I walked up the stairs and toward the hallway and hid in a corner so I could peer into their room. My mother was hitting my father.
“Cashmere, stop!” After every couple hits my dad would either shove her or hit her back. But it didn’t stop my mother from hitting Daddy again and again.
“You mothafucka!” she screeched with so much pain in her face after he punched her in her face. She started screaming and continued assaulting my father. Finally he growled, grabbed my mother by her forearms, and threw her so hard she flew into their closet.
I cried at the brutality he was showing my mother. You don’t treat your worst enemy the way he was treating my mother. But I was too scared to go inside their room and defend her. I buried my face in my hands as the tears poured from my eyes. Her head and right shoulder slapped against the closet door. My mom just sat there with her head tossed back and sobbing. Her mouth was open but there were no sounds coming out. Her shoulders shook violently like she was having a seizure.
My dad’s breath was coming out in hard pants. When his breathing calmed down he said, “I’m not happy in this marriage. I hate you and I want out. And you know why.”
“Why?”
“If you had aborted her, maybe we wouldn’t be here today. She had placed the strain on our marriage and made me resentful toward you. I hate even looking at her. You knew that and yet you still chose to go on with that pregnancy.”
My mother started bawling. “If you couldn’t deal with the fact that Dominique was not yours and accept her as your own then why did you stay all these years, Demarco? Why did you marry me?”
“I prayed day and night while you were pregnant that it was my baby. But after so many years when she started looking like him more than you, I . . . At the end of the day, I thought my love for you could surpass my hate for her. It didn’t. When I see her, I see a pimp. I see Black: her daddy. I hate her as much as I hate him. And then I thought maybe if we had a child together that would change things. And the one thing I wanted more than anything you couldn’t give me! You couldn’t give me a baby. Maybe if you had I wouldn’t feel the way I feel. I can’t love something that’s not of me!”
“But she is of me and of you-”
“Half of you and half of motherfucking Black!”
My mom closed her eyes and she let out a long moan.
I gasped and place a hand over my mouth. Demarco wasn’t my daddy. Someone named Black was? Tears poured down my cheeks. I cried silently. How could my mother do this to me? How could she pass another man off as my father? In that moment for the first time in my life I hated my mother just as much as Demarco hated her. She had robbed me of the truth. How could my mother have done this to me? I looked up to my mother. I thought she was perfect. And she wasn’t because she was a liar. I shook my head bitterly. Pain was spreading into my heart. And I couldn’t help the tears that poured down my face.
“Because I loved you so much, Cashmere, I thought I’d grow to love her. But I didn’t and I won’t.”
My mom continued to cry pitifully. I cried as well and watched him pull out suitcases and pack his stuff. After he had what he needed packed he said, “I’ve been talking to a lawyer. I’m going to file for a divorce first thing tomorrow. Just so you know.”
“Demarco, please,” she begged. “I can fix this. Put those suitcases down, baby.” She stood up, grimaced in pain, and blocked the doorway.
He wouldn’t even look her in her eyes. “This is over. We took this shit too far. I can be man enough to say that I should have never married you. But now I’m doing the right thing by leaving you.”
“Please!” My mother got down on her knees and pleaded with him while crying uncontrollably. She was crying so hard I thought it sounded like she was hyperventilating.
But it did nothing for him. He simply shoved her out of the way and walked out of the room. I could hear my mom screaming for him.
As he stepped out of the room into the hallway I stepped out of the shadows. He saw me, paused for a moment, then continued.
“Daddy?” I called.
He kept walking.
More tears poured out of me as I chased after him outside to our long driveway. With more guts than ever I chased after him. “Daddy, is it true? You’re not my real father? Tell me the truth please. I’m begging you, Da . . . Demarco, please tell me who my father is.”
He got in the truck like I wasn’t standing there and drove off leaving me in the driveway crying like a lost kid who couldn’t find their mom in a grocery store.
My mom didn’t even come out of her room. And it was just as well for me because until I knew the absolute truth I just couldn’t face her. I couldn’t even believe that was coming out of my head. I loved my mother to death. But to find out that my mother had been lying about my birth father . . . I didn’t know if I could ever look at her the same way or even forgive her for that. Who knew, maybe if she had told me who my real father was he would have given me the love Demarco never had. It made sense that he had treated me the way he had over the years. I wasn’t his and he plain-out hated me. And now I wanted answers, the truth. I didn’t think my mother was capable of giving me this because for thirteen years she had lied to me about who my real daddy was. So how could I believe anything she had to say now?
I remembered all that night as my mother continued to cry. I lay in my bed and racked my brain for where I had heard the name Black. It came to me after a few minutes: the lady at the fish market was the one who had said the name Black Mitchell. Then I also thought about what my aunt had said abou
t if I want to know the truth.
So the next morning I got dressed and skipped out on school. I figured out how to ride the bus to Compton. My mom was still so out of it that I hadn’t heard a peep out of her. By the time I made it out to Compton it was too early to go to the fish spot. During the long bus ride all kinds of thoughts ran through my head. Tyler, The Creator could not take me out of my thoughts as he played on my iPhone. Besides the fact that this was the first time my mother had ever hurt me or made me mad, I didn’t think I could look at my mother the same. Why would she lie to me? Did I know my mother? Really know her like I thought I did? I never would have thought my mother would have kept such a big secret from me. Parents are a part of a child’s identity. Maybe if she would have told me I would have not been hurt by how hateful Demarco had treated me because I would have understood why. I also would not have cared because he wasn’t really my father. Nor would I have spent my whole life trying to impress him and win his love. I urged myself not to make any assumptions or have any type of hope until I found out the truth. I knew two people who could give it to me. One of those persons I figured since she offered would give it to me easily: my aunt. The other would be the lady in the fish shop.
After I got off the bus and walked to my aunt’s house I took a deep breath as I walked up the steps. I almost expected her to not be awake since it was still early. But not even three seconds after I pressed the doorbell the door flung open and I was met with a set of angry, bloodshot eyes.
She made my heart speed up. I swallowed hard, my eyes wide.
“What you want?”
I licked my dry lips.
“What you slow or something? What are you doing at my doorstep? Huh?” she demanded. Her voice got louder with each word.
I held my hands up as if in surrender. “I . . . I didn’t mean to bring you trouble, Auntie. I just needed you to talk to me. I wanted the truth. You said—”
She held up a hand. “Say no more. Come inside. I’ll give you all the truth you can handle, little skinny girl. The question is, can you handle it?”
Chapter 14
Dominique
I sat on her couch that was covered with plastic. My aunt waddled toward me with an empty jelly jar filled with water. She shoved it in my hands.
“Here. Drank that. ’Cause when I’m done your ass gonna need some type of nourishment. ’Cause what I’m about to say ain’t for the faint of heart.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She narrowed her eyes at me when I said that and gave a grunt. I took a couple sips and set it on top of her coffee table.
“When your mother was thirteen and her sister was seventeen they came to live with me after your grandfather was in an accident and your grandmother abandoned both the girls. This was a very difficult time for me because I tried to be a very loving aunt to the both of the ungrateful bitches.”
My lips curled at her calling my mother a bitch. But I kept quiet.
“Look like you want to do something to me, little gal.”
“No, ma’am,” I said quickly. “I just don’t like to hear people call my mother out of her name is all.” I mean that was still my mom. She deserved more respect than that.
“Well once you find out what the bitch did you gonna be calling her out her name!”
I also never knew my grandma had abandoned my mother and her sister. I was also told that my mother’s older sister had died in a tragic car accident.
Her nostrils flared out. “Now where was I? Your grandmother stole her husband from me when we was younger. I was a God-fearing virgin and he was courting me. Back in my day before this twirling, twerking, and hippy hop bullshit, men were real and they knew how to treat a decent lady. Anyhow, your grandmother, being the little slut she was, must have put it on Desmond something good because he left me and married her. She was carrying someone else’s bastard seed. And you won’t believe who’s seed she was carrying: Her uncle’s. Yes, I know, your God-fearing grandmom married to that police commissioner was fucking our uncle’s brains out. Truth was she seduced him.”
I looked away disgusted.
“He a man, what you ’spect? You throw a dog a bone they going to gnaw at it. And well, my uncle gnawed at her even though it was like lying with a serpent. But anyhow Desmond, he always was a dummy so I suppose it’s betta he ended up with her and not me. Anyhow your grandmother made that man work day in and day out so she could have the finer thangs.”
My mother had never really talked about my grandfather much, just said he was a good man who passed away when she was thirteen.
She went on. “He ended up getting into an accident, becoming a paraplegic, and could no longer fit the bill. Your selfish grandmother ran off and left him and them girls. I gave them a home and guidance, something their hoish-ass mammy wouldn’t ’cause she was too busy running the streets, getting that big hole between her thighs filled with filthy, disgusting peckers.”
“What happened to my aunt?” I asked.
“Oh you mom must have not told you. Shut up now and stop cutting me off! Now them girls, your aunt Desiree and your mammy, did everything under the sun from selling dope to stripping. Then your aunt slept with my husband. Cashmere was on her way to do it too except I put a stop to it and they both ran away. I guess I provided too much of a stable, wholesome family and it scared them.” She looked away.
“Anyhow, both them girls set up shop with a pimp as black as the night. I ain’t never seen a blacker man walking around. They got involved in using dope. Yep! I said it! Your mother was a druggie just as bad as those you see walking the streets begging for change or selling they ass. Then she got mad at your sister. Why I don’t know. But rumor is they got into a fight where your mom beat your sister to death and she died. Yep, your mother is a murderer. But that ain’t the worst of it. Your mama ain’t exactly been honest with you as far as your daddy. Your daddy is the pimp named Black. That Mexican ain’t your daddy and all these years your mom got the nerve to pass him off as your poppy when she know damn well he ain’t. That pimp is your daddy.”
I closed my eyes as tears fell. I was reeling from the things my aunt was telling me. My mother was a walking lie. I mean lie after lie after lie was told to me and the truth just unfolded in front of me. I didn’t know that woman. And now I really didn’t want to. The confirmation I needed was right in front of me: my aunt. My daddy wasn’t Demarco. Although this sounded weird, instantly I was hit with a wave of hope. Maybe if I could find my real father he could love me. Love me in way that Demarco never did if only I could find him.
“Where is my father?”
“In the slammer.”
“Can you take me to him please?”
“I don’t know where he is. And if I did I wouldn’t cause one thing I don’t do is go around no coppers ’less I have to. You go into an institution you might not come up out of it.”
I thought back to the lady in the fish market: “Black asks about you all the time.”
I stood to my feet, still reeling from her words. “Thank you, Auntie.”
She said nothing just watched me walk out.
I sat on her porch for a minute and hid my face in my knees and broke down crying. I felt lost. My feelings were hurt and the last person in the whole world that I expected to hurt them had. My mom.
When I heard a sound I looked up and saw my great-aunt standing in the doorway. I thought she was going to come outside and hug me but she didn’t.
I got off her steps and walked to the fish market, all my aunt’s words weighing heavily on me. Once I got to the fish market I walked up to the lady Meka and said, “ I need you to take me to my father: Black Mitchell.”
When I came home that day after everything I had learned I looked at my mother so differently. For as long as I could remember I looked up to my mother. She was my hero. Now I didn’t. Our interaction wasn’t much anyhow since she walked around the house like a zombie and spent most of the time in her room. She only said two sentences
to me. One: “Heat up a frozen pizza if you hungry.” Or two: “If anyone calls I’m not here except for Demarco.” So it was very easy to maneuver around her. When I wasn’t there she wasn’t answering the door or the phone anyway. Thing was I was 50 percent in love and 50 percent in hate with my mother. I didn’t want that. I wanted to 100 percent love my mom like I always had. So one day I figured if I sat her down and talked to her, gave her a chance to explain things, maybe she would tell me the truth and I would 100 percent love her again. There would be no anger. So when Meka texted me and said she could take me to see my father, I ignored the text and went into my mother’s room. She was resting in her bed.
I took a deep breath and sat down next to her. “Hey, Mommy.”
“Hey, Dom.”
“Mom, can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“I don’t know, Mom. I know Demarco is gone but something is really bothering me. Is he my daddy? ’Cause I just can’t believe he is because of how he treated me and the fact that he is gone but never calls or checks on me.” I bit my bottom lip as she kept a poker face on.
I just wanted her to tell me who my real daddy was. I should not have had to hear this from other people. I wanted my mother to tell me and fix this. If he was not and my mom told me the truth I could forgive her, move on, and not even bother to respond to Meka.
But then my mom made that choice for me with her words. “Look, Dom. I have a lot on my mind. I don’t know why I have to keep going over this with you. Yes, Demarco is your father. He got me pregnant when I was eighteen years old. I swear on a stack of Bibles that that is your daddy. That’s on your life. Don’t you think I would tell you if someone else was your daddy?”
The People vs. Cashmere 2 Page 6
