to

black girls

 

asian girls

 

Spanish girls

 

native american girls

 

indian girls

 

african girls

 

all girls

 

don't let the height of your skirt

or

the fit of your clothes

or

the length of your hair

or

the size of your butt

or

the cuteness of your face

or

the complexion of your skin

or

the color of your eyes

or

the jewelry you wear

define who you are

let it be the brain you possess

and what you put into it

 

PROLOGUE

 

    “I’m not gonna make it.”

    I struggled to get into the elevator.  My arms were wrapped around my enormous belly.  I felt a tightening sensation at the base of it—like someone with big hands was squeezing me there and then suddenly releasing me.

    “You gotta try girl.  You can’t have it here.”

    “I know—but I can’t walk.”

    I was panting heavier than before.  I had no control over my breathing; it was erratic.

    “Come on.  You gotta.”

    “I can’t—”

    I tried to continue speaking, but I had to stop.  I could feel the pain coming.  Tears ran down my face as I anticipated it.  The pain wasn’t like any I had experienced before—not like cramps, or a toothache, or even a sucker punch.  There was nothing I could do to lessen it.  It came and went when it wanted to.  I was helpless to stop it.

    Somehow I managed to get inside the elevator.  I forced myself to walk.  I had no choice.

    “What floor?” asked Lisa.

    “Five,” I said not even bothering to look up at her.  I was trying to block her and the pain out, but that didn’t work.  I felt another contraction beginning. 

    “I can’t believe you was gonna come here all by yourself.  Where is your Mom?”

    “I don’t know—” I stopped speaking; I had to.  The pain gripped me in the stomach and caused me to double-over and groan.  It eventually passed and I was able to continue speaking. 

    “I guess she’s with one of her men friends.  I woke up this morning and she wasn’t there.  Some of her stuff was gone too.”

    “She’s with some man?” disbelief was all over Lisa’s face.

    “It won’t be the first time.”

    “That’s not right.  Can’t you find her?”

    “What for?”

    “She should be here.  She knew you was gonna have this baby soon.”

    “Forget her Lisa.  She wasn’t around no other time.  Why should now be different—”

    Another contraction was coming.  I braced myself for it, but the pain was more severe this time.  I opened my mouth and groaned loudly, “Ahhooouu!”  I did this until it subsided.  Lisa could do nothing but watch.

    We stepped from the elevator and looked around.  There was a sign on the wall directing us to the labor and delivery room. 

    “Did your water break?”

    “I don’t think so.”

    I was so glad I ran into Lisa on my way here.  She was getting off the thirteen trolley when I spotted her.  I was waiting on the other side of the street for the one that would take me into the city.  Now I would not have this baby all by myself.

    “I wish Nathaniel was here.”

    “Cathleen please!  Don’t even think about him now.  If he doesn’t come, that’s on him.  It’s his loss.”
        “I called—and left a message with his roommate.  Do you think he might change his mind about the baby?  I mean after it gets here—”

    “I doubt it girl.  You might as well start moving on with your life and forget him.”

    “He could change his mind.”

    “Yeah right, and I’m not really black either,” said Lisa sarcastically.

    “I hope I have a boy.  You think he might come if it’s a boy?  I could name him Nathaniel.”

    “Don’t you name that baby after him!  He don’t want to be a daddy.  So naming your baby Nat ain’t gonna do nothing.  It won’t make him come here tonight.”

    “He might,” I panted out.  My words got caught in my throat as another pain came.

    “Give it up Cathleen.  He ain’t here and he ain’t coming.  Just be glad his mother accepts you and the baby.”
        “Mrs. James has—been real nice.  She said she’d talk to him about the baby.”

    “It’s not gonna do no good,” said Lisa.  “She’ll be wastin’ her time.”

    We struggled to the closed double doors, or rather Lisa dragged me to them.  The doors had no windows.  Just a sign telling us to push the silver pad on  the side of the wall.  We did that.  The doors automatically opened.  Inside I saw a bunch of nurses sitting together, some were using computers, and others were just talking.  As I looked on, one got up and walked toward us.

    “Can I help you?” she asked briskly, examining my stomach with her eyes.  Did I see disdain in them?  Was she judging me because I was young, and pregnant?  Or was she simply tired of seeing girls destroying their futures at the ages of eleven, twelve, thirteen…  Could that be why this nurse appeared to be callous?

    “I think I’m about to have it,” I said pointing to my stomach.

    “Who is your doctor?”

    “I’m from the clinic across the street.  I don’t know who my doctor is,” I mumbled.  “I mean I don’t know who’s on call tonight—”

    The nurse interrupted me, “How many weeks are you?”

    “Thirty-nine.”

    “Are you in labor?”

    “I think so.”

    “Don’t you know?” she scolded.

    “Yeah I am.”

    “How fast are the contractions coming?”

    “I don’t know.”

    “When is your due date?”

    “February 10th.”

    “Your name?” she asked.

    “Cathleen Saunders.”

    “I’ll see if I can locate your file,” she said and then walked away.

    The nurse stopped in front of the metal cabinet on wheels.  She bent down and ran her fingers across the red binders as she read the names quickly.

    As she continued looking, she spoke, “I do not see it.  If you are due next week, it should be here.  Could you be at the wrong hospital?” she asked accusingly.

    “No I’m not.  I’ve been going to the clinic across the street ever since I got pregnant.”

    “Well your file is not here.  Are you sure about your due date?”

    “Don’t she look like she’s about to have a baby?” jumped in Lisa.

    “I have had people get hospitals and dates confused,” the nurse replied.  “I’ve spent a lot of time in the past looking for files on people who should have gone to the hospital on Tenth Street instead of here.”

    “It’s the right hospital,” I said.

    “Well maybe someone forgot to send your file over,” the nurse said in an agitated voice.  “Why can’t people ever do things right?” she said giving no indication of who she was talking about. 

    “I got to sit down—I can’t stand anymore,” I said bending over further.  “I feel pressure down there,” I pointed to the bottom of my stomach.

    “Can she sit?” asked Lisa.

    “As soon as I find out who her doctor is.”

    “But she needs a room?  She can’t stand here forever.”

    “In a minute.  Housekeeping is cleaning it,” she said picking up a phone and dialing.  She talked into the receiver for several minutes then she hung it up and came back to us.

    “One of the clinic doctors is on his way here,” she informed me. 

    “Thanks,” I said automatically.  I didn’t mean it; it was simply a conditioned response.

    “Are you a family member?” I heard the nurse ask Lisa.

    “I’m her girlfriend—do you have a problem with that?”

    “No, I do not.  But I am her nurse for tonight, and I do not need any additional problems to complicate my job.”

    “I ain’t a problem,” said Lisa.

    “Good.”

    The nurse walked away again without saying a word.  She picked up a clipboard and began writing on it.

    “She is rude,” declared Lisa.  “What is she doing?”

    “I don’t know, but here she comes again.”

    “Come on,” the nurse said, leading us into a corner.  She walked fast and we followed her as best we could.  In the corner, there was a curtained off room.  It contained a slanted table with two metal objects attached to the end of it.  White paper covered the table and there was a pillow lying on it.

    “Can I get something for the pain?”

    “No. What number baby will this make?” asked the nurse.

    “But it hurts—so bad.”

    “Her first,” answered Lisa.

    “Thank you but, I need Cathleen to answer these questions.”

    I could tell Lisa didn’t like what the nurse said.  She was getting upset, but she didn’t say another word.

    “Any abortions?”

    “No.”

    “Any complications during this pregnancy?”

    “No.”

    “What is your date of birth?”

    “November 5th 1969.”

    “Any problems with medications?”

    “No.”

    I watched the nurse check off several other things on her clipboard before she handed it to me, “You must sign this consent form before we can deliver your baby.”

    “I already signed one.”

    “It’s across the street.  That’s not going to help us right now.”
        I took the board and signed it.

    “Get undressed and put this on,” she said tossing me a gown.  “Give me a urine sample.  Void some into the toilet then collect the rest in this container,” she said resting it on the bed.

    “Void?”

    “Pee into the toilet and then put the rest into that container—do you understand?”

    “Yeah,” I said.

    “Why do you want that?” asked Lisa.  “Are you checking her for drugs?”

    “I want to check for protein—why?  Should I be looking for drugs also?”

    “I don’t do anything,” I said.

    “If that were true, you wouldn’t be here,” she said and walked out of the room.

    “No she didn’t say that.  I know she didn’t even tell you that,” ranted Lisa.  “Who the hell does she think she is?  She needs to be doing her job instead of getting all in your business,” she said walking to the edge of the room and announcing it loudly.

    “Don’t worry about her,” I said.

    “But, I don’t like her Cathleen.”

    “Neither do I, but I don’t really care about her right now.  This pain is getting worse,” I said removing my clothes.  “I’m gonna tell that nurse I need something real bad.”

    “She’s not gonna give you nothing.  You’ll have to wait for the doctor.”

    “How do you know that?”

    “ ‘cause that’s how they did my sister.”

    “Well he betta hurry up and get here.  I can’t take much more of this.”

    “I know,” said Lisa walking up behind me.  “I’ll tie that for you.”

    I felt her cold hands and fingers touching my neck as she knotted the strings on my gown.  “Your butt looks damn ashy,” she said laughingly.  “The doctor’s gonna see that and tell you to go home and put some lotion on.”

    “I don’t look that bad, do I?”

    “No,” she teased.

    “Even if I did, I ain’t going no place, but to the bathroom,” I said picking up the plastic container.

    The nurse didn’t tell me where the bathroom was.  Nor did she pull the curtains shut or even tell us her name.  I hadn’t realized that before.

    “Nurse!” yelled Lisa.  “Where is the bathroom?”

    “Straight back and to your left,” she answered from the nurse’s station.

    “I bet she’s lying about the pee.  She’s probably checking you for drugs.  I bet they do that to all the black girls that come in  here.”

    “Well she won’t find anything on me.”

    “I know that, but they’re still gonna test you.  Do you want me to go with you?”

    “I can do it by myself.”

    “Are you sure?”

    “Yeah.  Unless you are going to pee in this thing for me,” I teased.

    “Nah.  I can’t do that.  Then it might come up positive for something.”

    “Girl you need to stop that.  I know you ain’t—doing nothing either,” I said wishing this baby would hurry up and come. 

    “Try telling them that,” she said pointing to the nurses. “I know they’re talking about us.”

    Lisa was sixteen too, but she had no kids.  She wasn’t trying to have any either.  I know she goes out with a lot of different boys, but that was it.  She said she wasn’t giving up the butt, and so far I guess she hadn’t.  She wasn’t like me.  She had decided way back that she would not be one of them girls in the neighborhood who got pregnant.  She wasn’t about having babies; she liked her freedom too much.  She was forever saying, ‘I ain’t got time for any babies.  Once you have them, you don’t have time for nothing else—look at my mother.’

    I do not know how many steps I took before I felt this hot liquid splashing against my inner thighs, ankles and feet.  My sneakers absorbed a lot of it, but the liquid kept coming.  It formed a puddle around me and then gradually traveled off into different directions.

    “I’m bleeding!” I screamed afraid to look down.  “It won’t stop!”

    I stood rigid; I was afraid to move any part of my body just in case my baby wanted to follow the path the blood took.  I heard Lisa yelling for the nurse.

    “She needs help!” Lisa called out.  She was the first to reach me.

    “It’s not blood Cat.  Your water broke.”

    “It did?” I said looking down at it.

    “Come on girl.  I’ll get you back to the room.”

    “I can’t move.  What if the baby is coming?” I asked not budging.

    “Then you shouldn’t be standing here.  Come on.”

    Obeying Lisa, I took slow, unsure steps.  Why wasn’t the nurse doing this?  Where was she anyway?  I thought her job was to help me.

    No sooner had I thought those questions than the nurse ran up to my free arm and helped me into another room.  It was unfamiliar.  It looked extremely sterile and bright.  There was a massive light hovering over a crisp white bed. I was instructed by the nurse to lie down. 

    “I—can’t take this—please give me something—anything,” sweat was suddenly rolling down my face and into my eyes and mouth.

    “I cannot do that.  The doctor is the only person who can give you meds.  Lift up.  I need to put this around your waist.”

    I did as she asked.  She slid a thick belt underneath me.  She then squirted a cold gel onto my stomach.  I grimaced; it felt like jell-o.  The nurse smeared gooey stuff all over my stomach and then fastened the belt around my waist.  She pulled it so tight I thought the baby was going to look Chinese.  Then, she slid a cold, black device beneath the belt.

    “What’s that for?” I barely got the words out.  The belt was extremely tight.

    “To monitor the baby’s heart rate.”

    I listened to the monitor.  I wanted to say the baby sounded like it was under water every time I heard the heart beat, but I held the words back.  I didn’t want to appear dumb.

    I looked away from the belt around my waist, and watched the nurse studying the lined paper coming from a machine.  On the continuous sheet of paper, a needle scribbled exaggerated triangles. 

    “Your contractions are very close— ” her speaking was interrupted by a tall black man walking into the room.  He looked African.  I don’t mean African-American.  I mean African-African. I could tell by Lisa’s face, she thought he was cute.

    “Hello Cathleen,” he said with a thin, barely noticeable accent.  When he pronounced my name, he stressed the first syllable and allowed the last one to glide past his lips rather quickly.  “How are you doing?”

    “Can I get something for the pain?”

    “After I examine you,” he gave me a slight smile.  “I must see how far along you are.  I am Dr. Adom.”

    I smiled right back at him.  I could see the nurse’s whole attitude change up when he walked in.  I liked his affect on her.

    “Has her blood work been drawn?”

    “I was about to do a complete blood count.”

    “Draw a type and screen also, but hold it.  We might not need it.”

    Picking up all the things she needed to draw my blood, the nurse approached me.  She dumped her supplies on the bed, beside me.  I watched her attach a needle to something yellow.  She then tied a long rubbery tube tightly around my arm.

    “Pump your fist like this,” she said showing me what to do.

    “Okay,” I said pumping.

    “You can stop now.”

    She punctured my skin and filled two tubes with my blood.  I watched her discard the needle when she was finished.  She wrote my name on the tubes and put one into a plastic bag with a long green and white slip.  The other tube she stuck into a rack.

    Dr. Adom stood in the background as the nurse got the blood.  Once she was finished, he stepped forward again.

    “I want to check your cervix,” he said.  “Move down on the bed.  I want you to put your feet into the stirrups.  Nurse, do we have large gloves in here?”

    “Right here,” she said handing him the box.

    “Thank you,” he said slipping the latex gloves on.

    The nurse threw a sheet over my stomach.  I couldn’t see too much of anything now.

    “You are going to feel pressure,” he said forcing his hand into my vagina and up the birth canal.

    “Arrrhhhh!” I screamed, screwing up my face.

    “I know this is not comfortable,” he said forcing his hand even further toward my cervix.  “But I must see how many centimeters you have dilated.  You are doing well,” he encouraged.

    He straightened from his bending position in front of me and removed his soiled gloves.  “Eight centimeters.  You are going to be there soon.

    “Can I please get something?  I can't take this anymore."

    "You do not need heavy anesthesia now.  Your labor is progressing well.  And it is better for the baby.  I will have the nurse put 7.5 cc of Demerol into your I.V."

    "Oh no!  Here comes another one!" I screamed closing my eyes.

    "Do not close your eyes," Dr. Adom commanded.  "Focus on the clock."

    I looked at him.  Then at the clock."

    "Good.  You are doing good Cathleen.  Take a deep breath.  Hold it.  Now count."

    "I can't," I burst out.  "Oh god it-- it hurts so bad."

    "Yes you can do it.  The contraction will be over soon.  Take another deep breath.  Slowly, come on-- count to ten."

    I took the air into my mouth.  One-- two-- three-- four-- five.  That was as far as I got.  The contraction ended.

    "Nurse, get that I.V. in her before the next contraction."

    "Yes Dr. Adom."

    "I feel it coming again," I said hysterically. "I can't do this--"

    "The nurse is going to give you something to dull the pain."

    All I could think of when he said that was, not another needle.  Wasn't I in enough pain?

    I was barely aware of the nurse working on me.  I was too obsessed with the pain gripping my lower belly.

    Dr. Adom turned to Lisa and said, "You hold her hand and make sure she focuses on that clock when the next contraction starts."

    "Me?  I don't know anything about having a baby!" she exclaimed.

    "It does not matter.  You can still help.  Look at that paper," he said pointing to the paper attached to a machine.  "When the line on that paper begins climbing up, she will be starting a contraction-- like this one here," he pointed to a jagged triangle.  "When it goes down, the contraction will be ending.  Have her take deep breaths when each contraction begins.  Tell her to relax when  it is over."

    "I'll try," said Lisa

    "Aurrghh-- it's coming!"

    "Stop talking Cathleen.  Look at the clock," Dr. Adom directed.

    "I can't take this pain!"

    He then looked at Lisa.  "You are her coach now."

    "Cat count-- come on.  One, two, three," instructed Lisa.

    "I can't--"

    "Yes you can."

    "Okay, okay," I panted.  "I'll try."

    "Take a big breath.  Hold it.  Now come on, count."

    "I'm counting.  I'm counting."

    "No you're not."

    "One," I was panting heavily.  "Two, three, four..."

    "That's it.  Now you are counting.  Good," said Lisa.

    "You can relax," said Dr. Adom.  "It has ended."

    I lay drenched on the bed.  Sweat was covering me from head to foot.  My hospital gown clung to me.  I lay in this state until I saw the nurse approaching me.  Apprehension was displayed on my face.  She had a clear  plastic bag full of some kind of liquid. What was she going to do with that?  I watched her hang the bag on a metal pole.

    "I am going to hook you up to this I.V.  It will make the contractions less severe."

    "Okay," I mumbled through dry, white lips.

    I winced when I felt the needle being inserted into the top side of my wrist.  I immediately felt a coolness flowing through my veins.  I was getting cold.  I pulled the blankets up to my chin, and tried to relax  a little.

    The next forty minutes took a long time to pass, but somewhere between all the screaming and hollering, I noticed Dr. Adom pulling on another pair of gloves.

    "I am going to check your cervix again," he said.  "Move down to the end of the table."

    "Not again!"

    "I must continue to do this until you reach ten centimeters.  You're getting there."

    He checked me.  This time I was nine and a half centimeters.  He assured me that I was almost there.  Almost was not good enough.  When was I going to be ten centimeters?  When was he going to tell me to push like they did in all the movies?

    I lay on the bed completely quiet except for when the contractions peaked.  Then I was a wild person thrashing all over the place and begging them to give me something stronger to stop the pain.

    Lisa continued to feed me ice chips when I complained I was thirsty, but that didn't help.

    When was he going to tell me to push?  When was this going to end?

    After examining my cervix two more painful times, Dr. Adom finally said what I wanted to hear, "I do not feel your cervix Cathleen.  When the next contraction begins, I want you to push."

    Push?  Was I finally going to be able to do that?  All night long I had been told not to push and now six hours later I was going to be allowed to push.  My legs were being held apart and everyone was chanting for me to push.

    I tucked my chin deep into my chest, clenched my teeth together and pushed with the concentration of a desperate person.  It was a long push that quickly ran out of energy.

    "Can I stop?" I asked out of breath.  My hair was sticking on my head.  Sweat was everywhere. 

    "The contraction is over.  You can stop," the nurse said.

    I laid there catching my breath, hoping the next wave of pain would take a break, but that was not going to be.  I felt the building of tense sensations and I knew the next one was coming.

    As another concentration started, I pushed.  My rectum exploded releasing everything it previously held.  I could see the nurse wiping me down with disposable paper wipes.

    "Push harder," the doctor demanded.

    "I-- I'm trying." I said losing my energy again.

    "You can relax.  The contraction is finished," he said.

    He told me to relax, but as soon as I did that the next contraction started mounting.  How long was this going to last?  I can't keep pushing like this.  Especially without any drugs.

    "I feel it again," I said warning them.

    "Start pushing," he directed me.

    "I am!  I am!" I yelled.

    "Push girl, come one," chanted  Lisa along with the nurse and Dr. Adom.

    "I can see the head," he said.

    "Is it a boy?" I asked prematurely.  The baby wasn't even born yet so how could he know the sex of it.

    "Keep pushing."

    The contractions were coming closer and closer together.  The pushing was progressing in the same fashion.  I did not have much rest time in between the pains.

    "All I need is a few more strong pushes Cathleen and it will be over.  The head is almost out," said Dr. Adom.

    "I'm trying-- Arrrhhghh!" I screamed.  I could feel my vagina being split apart by the pressure of the baby's head.  It was like being sliced open by lightening.

    "Get it outta me!  Please-- get it out!  It's killing me!"

    In the midst of all the screaming and pain, I heard the doctor ordering me to, "Stop!"

    Stop?  Stop what?  Pushing?  Was he crazy?  The baby was finally coming out and he wanted me to stop everything?  He wanted me to not push anymore?  Well, I couldn't just stop like that. I had waited too long for this moment, but what would happen if I didn't stop?  Would I harm the baby?  Would something happen to me? I was afraid to continue pushing.  I felt my body trying to decide what to do next.

    "We have to clear the baby's nose and throat," I heard Dr. Adom announce.  It took them several seconds before the task was completed.

    "Give me another push," he demanded.

    "Arrrghh," I shrieked.

    "Did you want a boy or a girl?" he asked.

    "Yes," I whispered not realizing what I was saying.

    "You have a daughter, Cathleen," he announced like a proud father would.

    "I do?" was all I could say.

    He laid her warm and slippery body on to my chest. The first thing I saw when he placed her there were these two big grayish eyes.  They were not blinking.  They just stared at me and I stared back into them.  She was beautiful.  I could see that even through her slimy purple face.

    "She's a cutie," said Lisa standing next to me and peering into the little baby's face.

    "She certainly is," said Dr. Adom, stroking the top of the baby's head.  Then he said in a soft and extremely serious voice, "I do not want to see you in my delivery room again until you are a woman.  Do you hear me?"

    I was startled by his words, but I said, "Yes."

    "Good," he smiled.  "And take care of my baby."

    "I will."

    I touched her cheek delicately, testing to see if she would allow me.  When she did not resist, I slowly began to caress her incredibly soft cheek.  I was content to do this until Dr. Adom insisted that I push one final time in order to get the placenta out. 

    As I obeyed him, the nurse put the baby into a glass crib and began examining her.  I saw her put something into the baby's eyes.  She was examining  my baby's hands and mouth.  She then wrote something down onto a chart.  She took the baby's temperature.  She then put a diaper on her.

    "She was born at 5:05 pm," the nurse said for my benefit. 

    Seeing that she was fine, I closed my eyes and allowed the doctor to massage my uterus into place.  I gritted my teeth and thanked God that is was over.

    When I opened them again, it was to a quiet labor and delivery room.  The baby was gone; Lisa was gone; the doctor was gone and so was the nurse.  I checked myself underneath the blankets.  My bleeding had stopped a great deal.  I felt a little lightheaded though.

    I got to get up!  I got to call Nathaniel!  Tell him about the baby-- that he's a father-- that he has a daughter!

    I didn't know how, but somehow I had to get up and into a sitting position.

    Struggling a bit, I finally managed to sit up.  I rested for a moment.  I felt a gush of blood down below.  Was that normal?  Was I supposed to bleed like that?  I stopped and waited to see if it would happen again.  It did not.  I pulled the metal I.V. pole closer to the bed.  I needed it to support my weight as I stood up.  I made my way to my jeans hanging on a rack.  Pulling out my change purse, I carefully and slowly walked to the pay phone in the waiting room.  I dragged the I.V. pole with me.

    The nurses were not paying attention to me so I had no problem getting to the phone.  It was on the other side of the nurse's station.

    Picking up the black receiver, I dialed his number.  A recording spoke into my ear telling me to deposit a dollar and forty-five cents.  I did exactly as it said.  Then I heard a ringing sound.  I counted six rings before someone picked up and a male voice spoke:

    "Hello-- hello?  Who is it?"

    "It's me.  Cathleen.  I'm at the hospital."

    He said nothing.  There was no noise in his background.  He simply waited for me to talk.

    "I had it-- the baby.  It's a girl."

    "Why do you keep calling me?" he said in a chilling voice.

    "I thought you'd want to know when I had it.  It's your baby too--"

    "Says you."

    "It is," I insisted.

    "Well I don't want to know nothing about no baby or you.  If you were stupid enough to get pregnant, then that's your problem.  Not mine."

    "Why are you talking to me like that?  I never did anything to you."

    "You haven't?  You got my mother all in my business.  Now she expects me to be some kind of father to it."

    "But you should--"

    "Don't you tell me what I should do.  Not you.  Some little 'ho from nowhere."

    "I ain't a whore.  You were my first."

    "Yeah right and I'm supposed to believe that too?"  You knew what you were getting into."

    "I thought you liked me--"

    "Girl I ain't got time for this.  You knew what I was about.  You were down with it too.  So don't start pretending you weren't"

    "I didn't just want sex--"

    "I have two more years at this university and I'm blowing it because of some summer thing. I've been going for too long to let some kid ruin everything for me."

    "What about the baby?"

    "What about it?"

    "I can't take care of her by myself."

    "Get on Welfare-- I don't care what you do, but don't look for me to help you."

    "Are you gonna come see her?"

    "Aren't you listening?  I don't want to see her.  She's not my concern."

    "I-- haven't named her yet.  You got any ideas?"

    "No I don't!  And stop calling me!" he said and then hung up the telephone.

    I stood leaning against the phone with tears in my eyes.  I could feel the blood running down my legs.  When did I begin bleeding?  I hadn't noticed it until now.  I had to get back to my room!  I took one step and thought I was going to fall down.  I tried to take another step, but I stopped.  I felt more blood rushing down my legs.  Harsh cramps gripped my stomach.  I had to hurry!  A puddle had already formed on the floor.  I felt dizzy...

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

 

 

 

 

    "Why is she here?"

 

    I asked the question of no one in particular as I watched the black woman lean into the casket. She was thin and dressed in dark gray.  Her hair was drawn away  from her face and coiled neatly into a black knot.  The hairdressing suited her.  It made her look cold which was how I expected her to be.

    I could not see her eyes, but if I had.  I would not have expected to see the tears that were present.  If I had seen them, I would've wondered how she could shed them so freely for a woman she hadn't seen in thirteen years.  What emotions could she possibly be feeling?  She was incapable of anything, but selfishness.  I knew this from first hand experience. 

    The woman walked away from the alter after several minutes and without much hesitation, she began moving towards us. 

    "I know she's not coming over here!" I said sarcastically. Disbelief was visible in my eyes.

    "Who girl?" asked Grandfather.

    "Cathleen."

    "I don't see her-- where?"

    "Over by the flowers," I said, but as I spoke the woman advanced pass the arrangement  and was approaching us.

    Grandfather didn't see Cathleen until she was up on him.

    "George, I'm so sorry," said the woman.

    "Thank you," he said standing up and moving into the aisle.  "We all knew it was going to happen.  The cancer was just too much for her.  It's better this way."

    "I'm so sorry," she repeated.

    He nodded his head in understanding.

    "Why should you be sorry?" I asked in a quiet almost inaudible voice.

    Cathleen  glanced at me in surprise, but continued to address my Grandfather, "I had to come."

    "Why?" I spoke louder this time.
        "Niara!" he reprimanded.

    "She's being a hypocrite."

    "Your grandmother has just died," he said.  "That's enough to be sorry for."

    "It doesn't mean anything to her-- nobody has seen her in years.  Now she comes in here talking about she's sorry."

    "Niara!" he said in a silencing voice.  "That's your mother.  Let her talk."

    "Mother?  What kind of mother is she?  I haven't seen her since I was three.  Why should I care what she has to say ?"

    "Because I am telling you to," said Grandfather.  "Now close your mouth."

    "But she shouldn't even be here," I said.

    "What's your problem?" asked Cathleen.

    "You," I said.  "You're a joke.  You come walking in here like you got rights.  Nobody wants you here.  Why don't you leave?"

    "Be quiet Niara!  You've said enough," said Grandfather.  He then directed his next words to Cathleen, "I've been worried about you."

    "I know," her words trailed off. 

    "I'm glad you called to tell me what happened."

    "You should be here," said Grandfather.

    "You called her!" I screamed.

    "She's your mother, girl," he said lowering his voice.  "You're going to need her now that Nancy's gone."

    "For what?  I don't need her or Nathaniel.  I don't need any of them."

    The man who was supposed to be my father was sitting away from us with his wife and children.  I've only seen him three times in my whole life.  He was a big joke too-- treating me like a stepchild.  He never came to see me or even bothered to waste a quarter to call me.

    "You're always going to need family," said Grandfather. 

`   "Not her," I said.

    "I don't want to argue with you Niara.  Not here.  We can work things out later," said the woman.

    "There's nothing to work out!" I don't know when I stood up  or how I became so loud, but I had to get away from her. 

    "Niara don't open your mouth again," said Grandfather.  "Do you hear me?"

    "But I don't want her here."

    Cathleen spoke up, "Don't you listen to your Grandfather?"

    "Yes, I listen to him."

    "Doesn't seem like it to me.  You're still talking."

    "And you're still here."

    "Niara!  Be quiet!" said Grandfather harshly; his bloodshot eyes were looking at me.  I could see thin veins covering the white parts of his eyes.  He hadn't slept since Grandmother died.  All he did was listen to the radio. 

    "Cathleen sit down.  We can talk about everything else later."

    "Sit down?  What are you talking about?  She can't do that.  She can't sit here-- next to us.  She's not family," I challenged.

    "I think you should remember that you are only a child," she said in a loud voice.  "And, I am family.  I am your mother-- like it or not that's how it is.  I'm the one that gave birth to you."

    "Gave birth to me?  What's that supposed to mean?  You're the one who also gave me away.  You aren't my family.  You are nothing!"  

    "You know?  You are one rude little girl.  But you better watch your mouth, 'cause I can get just as nasty."

    "You get what you deserve," I said.

    "Sit down!" I heard someone from behind us whisper.

    "I'm sorry," said Cathleen maneuvering pass Grandfather.

    "But this isn't right!" I protested.

    "She's here now Niara so move over and make room.  I shouldn't have to tell you that again."

    "But you're not really going to let her sit with us?" I repeated angrily.

    "Yes he is.  Move over," said Cathleen.

    "No. I won't do it."

    "You don't have a choice," said the thin woman.

    "Then I'll move."

    "Sit your butt down girl," she said grasping my arm and pulling me down into the space next to her.

    "Don't you touch me," I said snatching my arm away from her.

    "Girl you're pushing it."

    Cathleen glared at me.  She was angry, but I think she was also a little surprise at how I was treating her.  What did she expect?  Did she think I'd be glad to see her?  Here?  At Grandmother's funeral?  I hadn't seen her in over thirteen years.  She hadn't visited me once in all that time.  Or tried to contact me.  So she shouldn't really be surprised that I didn't want her here.  I don't have a mother.  The woman next to me was a stranger.  Somebody I didn't know or even want to know. 

    "I can tell you one thing.  I'm not going to tolerate this kind of talk in my hou--" she stopped speaking abruptly and looked away quickly.  She would not look at me. 

    "What?  What did you say?"

    "Nothing."

    "Yes you did," I continued to probe.

    "Forget it."

    "You were going to say 'my house’ weren’t you?"

    "Forget it." she said.

    "That's what you meant-- didn't you?" I demanded.

    "Now is not the time for this," said Cathleen.

    "For what?" I asked looking at her.  "What are you talking about?"

   "I can't get into it right now.  This is not the place."

    I then turned to my Grandfather, "What's she talking about Grandpah?"

    "Later girl."

    "Will somebody tell me something?" I said getting louder.

    "Am I supposed to go to your house for a visit?  It that it?  Is that what you are thinking?  If that's it, you are wrong.  You can forget it, because this is the last time I ever wanted to see you."

    "It won't be for a visit Niara," she blurted out probably in an effort to hurt me.  "You will be living with me," she said in a tone equally as mean as mine.

    "You must be tripping," I said.  "I live with Grandpah.  Why should I suddenly go live with you?  I don't even like you."

    "Right now I felt the same way too," she said.

    "That's fine with me, but you must be crazy or something if you think I'm staying with you.  Why should I?"

    "I'm trying not to get angry girl, but you are making it hard.  You better watch who you are talking to."

    "And if I don't?  What are you going to do?"

    "I'm going to make you regret--"

    Before Cathleen could complete her response, Grandfather leaned over in our direction and simply said, "Allow me to say goodbye to my wife.  Show her some respect Niara."

    Then he turned to Cathleen, "Please hold off saying anything else."

    "You're right George.  I'm sorry. I've said too much already."

    Hold off saying what?  I didn't know what they had planned, but I was not going anywhere with her.  I could barely stand being near her.  So living with her was totally out.  They could both forget it.  I glanced in the direction of my father and his family.  He was holding his baby in his lap.  As I stared at him, I could not help but hate him too.  How could he be a father to them and not be one to me?  What did I do that he could hate me for so long?  It was not my fault he didn't want me.  I had no control over any of that.  So I hated him.

    I looked again at the woman seated next to me.  How could she just give me away?  What reason did she have?  I forced my brain to remember--  to go back to when I was three.  I strained and strained until I began to remember something...

    The  memories were sluggish almost refusing to come alive again after so many years of disuse.  but they did come back.  They were the product of what I vaguely remembered on my own and my subconscious.  I began to remember my mother's voice yelling at me.  I was standing in the doorway of her bedroom;  my eyes looking at her tall, slim frame.  My ears were listening to her every word.  The words she spoke were harsh-- uncaring, but I was too young to realize it. 

    "WHY DID I EVEN BOTHER TO HAVE YOU?" I heard my mother say...  "I should've gotten an abortion instead of having that nigger's baby.  "It's my own fault, though.  It was me who said yes and let him do it to me.  I should've known he didn't really want me.  All he wanted was some sex.  Now look at me.  I'm stuck with you!" I said, staring at Niara.

    "I'm tired of living like this.  I got no money for nothing-- I'm the one who's always looking like some damn bum.  Look at my hair, "I said a little louder, startling my daughter.  "It ain't been done in months.  I'm surprised it's not falling out.  And my nails look bad as hell.  I never used to look like this. 

    I walked over to the bedroom window and looked out.  The street below was busy with people going on with their lives.  Ms. Griffin was waiting on the bus with her four children. 

    Cynthia, the nineteen-year-old girl from down the street was carrying her pregnant butt to the corner laundry mat.  She was pushing a cart full of dirty clothes.  Her two dirty children:  ages two and three were running ahead of her; they weren't paying any attention to anybody but themselves.

    I saw a girl sitting on the steps across the street from my apartment building.  It was Paulette.  She was fifteen and kind of pretty.  She was talking to some boy.  I shook my head.  I guess it would just be a matter of time before he or some other boy got her pregnant too.

    I didn’t 't mean to raise the peeling window frame or even stick my head out of it, but that's what I did.  All the hatred I felt for every black man who tread his muddy, stinking feet through my life came out it that instance.  This included my father who helped me to become what I am-- a black bastard; my uncles who encouraged him to be that way, my brothers who didn't have time to love me, and all the other men who came into my life after Nathaniel.  I hated them all!

    "Get the hell way from her!  She don't want any babies by you!" I screamed out.

    The young couple on the steps jerked their heads up in uncoordinated unison.  The girl appeared embarrassed as though I had overheard his sweet, empty promises.  The pledges she would believe for a time until she discovered them to be as worthless as all his, 'I love yous.'

    The boy reacted differently.  He was agitated by my outburst, "Speak on what you know!  I'm nothing like the guy who got your dumb butt pregnant-- so close the window and go back to your pathetic life."

    "Yeah my life is that way, but so will hers be if she gets knocked up by you," I slammed down the window.  "Now think about that!"

    I walked away.  I didn't accomplish a thing.  To them I was probably just some bitter, lonely nut.  At least I tried to warn her which was more than I got.

    I've been living here in West Philly for three years-- every since Niara was born.  I hated it, but I couldn't live any better with the money I was getting from Welfare.  I hated that too.  I also hated being black and being poor.  To me being black meant the same thing as being poor.

    I lived with two other girls just like me.  They were also poor, black and on Welfare.  Our checks all went to different addresses so that we would have no problem collecting them, but we lived together in an attempt to keep some of the money for ourselves.  I wanted to start saving for a house; I wanted a place to raise Niara, but it was not working out because sometimes the other girls would leave their children on me and disappear for days.  Or both the mother and the children would leave when rent was due and come back afterward with some sorry story.  That's why they ain't around today; it's the end of the month.  Rent day.

    I walked over to Niara, snatched her by the hand and dragged her into the bathroom.  She needed a bath, but I wasn't going to give her one.  Let them do it.  They wanted her for the weekend well this was how she came.

    I took a wash rag from the wall and turned on the hot and cold water.  I did not bother letting the sink basin fill up.  I rubbed soap on the rag and then began wiping Niara's face roughly.

    "Mummy that hurts," said the little girl.

    "Ain't nobody hurtin' you-- stand still."

    "Soap in my eye."

    "Then close your eyes.  How do you expect me to clean your face-- just with water?"

    "My eye," Niara tried squirming away from my cleansing hands.  "I don't want it," she said referring to the washing she was receiving.

    "Git back over here," I said.

    "No," she said moving away from me.  "I don't want it."

    "Girl I don't have time for this.  If you want to see your grandmother, you better git over here."

    "No."

    "Who are you talking to?" I said reaching for her.  "I told you about telling me no-- didn't I?"

    I slapped Niara on the leg.  She screamed, jumping up and down in anger.  I couldn't hit her as hard as I wanted because she wasn't in my direct reach, but I got my message across.

    "Git your black butt over here before I give you a real beating."

    "Yes Mummy," she said, but remained standing out of my reach.

    I walked over to her and yanked her back in front of the sink, "Don't you move.  You hear me?"

    "Yes Mummy."

    I stuck the rag under the running water and used a bar of soap to create lather.  I washed her arms next.  I washed her stomach and the front of both legs.  Then I did the same to the back parts of her body.

    "I want brush teeth."

    "I'll do it.  You take too long."

    "No.  I want to do it," she said reaching up for her toothbrush.

    "I said no."

    I smeared green toothpaste onto a brush and hastily brushed Niara's top ones and then her bottom ones.  I tried to brush them at least once a day.  I hated to see children with yellow teeth. 

    "Spit," I said pointing to the sink.  "And don't get it on the floor."

    I watched my daughter spit.  The toothpaste and saliva left her mouth in a drool.  Rinsing was even more messy.

    "Put you panties on."

    Niara attempted to step into them.  She stuffed both legs into one opening.  She then tried pulling them up, but stopped when she heard me shout.  "What are you doing?  Not like that-- take one leg out."

    'Ahhh!" she cried.

    "Cut it out girl.  Ain't nobody hit you." I snatched the underwear from her and directed her to  put one leg in one opening and then the other leg in the second opening.  I helped her pull them up. 

    "Three-years-old and you can't even put on your panties.  Don't make no sense," I mumbled continuing to dress her.  I pulled a red short sleeve shirt over her head and stuffed both of her arms through the sleeves.  From the flat surface of the toilet tank, I picked up red socks and blue shorts.

    "Here, put these on," I said handing Niara the socks.

    I sat on the lid of the toilet and watched impatiently as she sat on the tiled floor and pulled her socks over two small beige feet.  She was successful, but the heels of the socks were in the wrong places. I didn’t have enough patience left to watch Niara put on her shorts so I interrupted her actions.

    “I’ll help you put them on.  Come here.”

    “Why?”

    “ ‘cause you are talking too long.  And your hair’s got to be done,” I said throwing her into the clothing and stuffing her feet into cheap sneakers.

    If they complained about the quality of her footwear, then let them go out and get her something else.  I ain’t got the money—seventy dollar sneakers.  Especially when all the other bills got to be paid.  Why was I thinking like this?  Why was I being hard on myself?  I shouldn’t care what they think?  I still didn’t know why I let them talk my girl every weekend.  Oh yes I did.  So I could get some time to myself.  I looked like crap.  I had no man, but I still needed a rest.

    “Stop pulling your head away—I can’t make a straight part.”

    “No—hurt.” She said tugging against me.

    “Girl be still,” I said popping Niara on the head with the comb.

    She cried, but I ignored her and continued parting her hair and braiding it into long black plaits.  I made another square part and braided that section too.  I did this until all of Niara’s hair was plaited.  She struggled with me and I popped her whenever I got frustrated. 

    “Where Grandmah?” she asked watching me put the comb and brush inside the medicine cabinet.

    “She’ll be here soon.”

    “I’m going to her house?”

    “Don’t look so happy—if you didn’t look the way you did, she probably wouldn’t give a damn about you.  She just wants to show off her pretty granddaughter to all them people in church.  Dressing you up like some doll just so they can say how pretty you are.”

    “Grandmah give me this,” she said pointing to the diamond studded earrings in her ears.  She was so proud.  Sticking out her chest, she danced around in the bathroom touching them and smiling.

    “You better be glad I don’t take them for myself.  I could use them better than some kid.  I ain’t gonna have her spoiling you.  I know that much.  I’m the one whose got to raise you and I ain’t putting up with no nasty, spoiled little girl.”

    “Grandmah’s coming—we go to Toy Z Us?”

    “I don’t want no more toys coming in here.  We ain’t got no more room in this place.”

    Wrapping Niara’s toothbrush in toilet paper, I snatched her towel off the rack and picked up the wet rag on the basin.  I shoved them into the plastic grocery bag on the floor.  It already contained panties, shorts, shirts, and socks.  The wet rag clung to the sides of the bag leaving a moist look.

    “Doorbell Mummy,” said Niara.  “Grandmah?”
        “Yeah it’s her.”  I didn’t have to say come on because Niara was already out of the bathroom and running to the apartment door.

    “It’s Grandmah.  It’s Grandmah,” she sang, running even faster than before.  The apartment wasn’t big so she reached it quickly.  Her ears didn’t absorb my warning because as she reached the door her hands began fumbling with the locks.  Niara played with them until she successfully unlocked all of them.  Then she opened the door to a crack for the woman on the other side.  It was too heavy for her to do more.  Grandmah had to open it the rest of the way.

    “It’s Grandmah!” she said hugging the older woman’s legs.  “How are you?”

    “What’s with the questions?  Don’t Grandmah get a kiss?”

    “Yes,” said Niara waiting for her big, round face to lower so that she could kiss it.

    “Mummah,” was the noise Niara made as her lips pressed into the thick dark skin of her grandmother’s face.

    It was amazing that the older woman’s face was still relatively soft considering the thickness of her skin.  Maybe it was the fatness that laid underneath.  Grandmother’s body was not fat, but her face seemed to have more than its normal share of fat cells.

    “And Mammah to you,” Grandmother said mimicking her grandchild’s kiss. “Are you happy to see me?”

    Niara smiled and nodded her head.  That was all she got a chance to do before she heard, “Didn’t I tell you not to open that door?”

    Niara swung around to look at me; Nancy looked up.

    “Calm yourself Cathleen.  She knew it was me.”

    “I don’t care.  She is not supposed to open the door for anyone.”

    Niara stood rooted to the spot near her Grandmother in the doorway.  She was afraid to move.

    “I told you not to open that door,” I said pulling her into the living room and away from her imaginary protection.  I smacked the backs of her legs with my hand.

    “You better start listening to me—if I tell you not to do something, you better listen.  I don’t care whose at the door.”

    “Arrhhh!  Arrhhgg!” screamed Niara running around me in circles.  She was trying to escape me, but I wouldn’t let go of her hands.

    “Why are you beating her like that?  I’m her  Grandmother.  Stop this mess girl,” she said walking over to us.

    “Don’t get in the middle of this,” I threatened.

    “Arrhh,” Niara continued crying.

    “Next time you gonna listen to me girl?” I asked.

    Niara did not respond; she just continued to cry.

    “Shut up and answer me,” I said raising my hand to hit her again.

    “Yes Mummy—yes, I understand,” said Niara between hiccups and tears.

    “None of this is necessary Cathleen.  She knew it was me.”

    “Look I don’t have to explain myself.  I don’t have to justify anything I do—Niara go get your bag in the bathroom.”

    “Why are you so hard on her?”

    “ ‘cause it didn’t have to be you at the door.”

    “No?  Who do you have coming in here that you need to be afraid to open your own door?  I hope you aren’t letting those other girls bring all kinds of men in here.  Niara doesn’t need to be in that kind of environment.

    “Their boyfriends are their problems.  Niara and I are not around them that much—but what are you trying to say?” I asked.

    “I just don’t want nothing to happen to Niara.  I’m not trying to imply anything.  I know you are doing the best you can.  And I know it hasn’t been easy.”

    “I know how to protect my daughter.  And I don’t need no instructions from anybody—just because I was stupid enough to get pregnant by your son doesn’t mean I’m always gonna be stupid.  I don’t leave her by herself with no men.”

    “I’m not accusing you of being stupid—”

    “So why are you always doing that?  Asking me questions.  I ain’t afraid of nobody coming to that door.  But when I tell Niara something, she’d better listen.”

    “I’m sorry,” said the older woman.  “I just worry about the both of you living here, in this neighborhood.  I suppose it comes out in questions like that sometimes.  I simply want Niara to have a safe, happy childhood.”

    “I don’t know how happy it’s gonna be with a father.  Maybe you should go to your son and ask him some questions.  Like why he ain’t seen his daughter since she’s been born?  Or how come he don’t help support his own kid?”

    “I do not have control over my son any more.  I wish I did.  He doesn’t seem to want to hear anything I have to say about Niara.”

    “It figures.  He’s a fool,” I said dismissing him from my conversation.  “Niara! What are you doing in there?”

    “I here Mummy,” the little girl said walking out of the bathroom.  She had toothpaste smeared all over her face.

    “I brushed teeth again,’ she said

    “Go wipe your face and hurry up.  Your grandmother is waiting.  Don’t forget to go to the pot-pot,” I reminded.

    I turned the radio on and walked into the kitchen.  Nancy followed me.  It wasn’t a long walk.  Our apartment was extremely small.  For the eight people living here, it was almost unbearable.

    “Do you want something to drink?” I asked opening the refrigerator.  I took out a pitcher of kool-aide.  I then took a glass from the dish rack and poured the liquid into it.

    “No.”

    “Fine,” I said.

    “Cathleen?” Nancy began hesitantly.  She was unsure of her position and did not want to offend her granddaughter's mother again.  "I want to talk to you-- about Niara.  I would like to raise her.  I know you are doing a good job, but her grandfather and I think we can give her more.  A house to grow up in, a good education-- all the things somebody like her deserves," she rushed on wanting to finish the statement before I had a chance to interrupt it. 

    I simply looked at her.  No words came from my mouth.  I was not surprised.  I had expected her to get around to it sooner or later.

    "George and I wouldn't be taking her from you.  We would be allowing you to grow up.  You are too young to be doing this all alone.  You need to finish high school.  I know you do not want to be on Welfare all your life.  And that's what will happen if you don't let someone help you."

    "I aint giving you my daughter."

    "I am not asking you to.  I just want to raise her while you get yourself together.  You are only nineteen.  You are very young yourself."

    "No." I said gulping some of my drink down.

    "You can see her any time you want."

    "I know I can 'cause she is gonna be right here with me."

    "Think Cathleen.  What is going to happen if she stays here?  She is going to be trapped.  You are already trapped.  Let me help you.  I want Niara to have a future.  Let me take her.  I can send her to a good public school.  We have a great one down the street from us-- it would be just until you get your diploma."

    "I said no!"

    "If you want to go to college, I could help you."

    "Yeah right.  And how am I going to do that? I got no money."

    "I'll help you with tuition."

    I was startled by this comment.  "Why should you?  I'm nothing to you."

    "You're Niara's mother."

    "That's nothing," I dismissed her answer.

    "At least think about it.  You'll have a chance to start over again.  You made one mistake.  Don't let it ruin your entire life."

    "What about your husband?  What about Nathaniel?"

    I do not care what Nathaniel thinks.  He is off in his own little world.  If when  he does find out, he doesn't like it; well that's too bad.  He has done things I do not approve of either," she said referring to his rejection of Niara.  "My husband simply loves his granddaughter.  He has already begun turning the guest room into a bedroom for her."

    "So you think I'm gonna say yes?"

    "I am hoping you will.  Like I said just think about it for a while."

    I said nothing else.  I walked back into the other room to see what Niara was doing.  She was playing with her blocks. 

    "Git your bag," I said pointing to the plastic grocery bag; its opening had been stuffed with bright colored blocks and hard backed books.  Obviously additions made by Niara and all of them were gifts given to her by Nancy.  I hadn't contributed one educational toy to her small collection:  they had all come from Nancy.  Would she grow up to be just like me, ignorant?  Would she also become pregnant by some knucklehead-- just like me?  I didn't want that, but I did not want to give her up either.

    "Time to go," I said walking over to her and bending down.  "Give Mummy a kiss."

    She did as I said, pressing her tiny lips into mine.  It was a habit I knew I had to break her out of.

    I hugged her hard and asked, "You know Mummy loves you?"

    "Yes," said the little girl.

    "It's just that I got so much on my mind.  All these bills and I don't have--"

    "Money," she completed for me.

    I looked at her with surprise in my eyes.  "What do you know about money?  Have I been complaining about it that much?"

    She looked back at me.  I could see she liked the reaction her words caused.

    "Money Mummy?

    "Yes Mummy needs money," I smiled a little.  Maybe things would get better for Niara and myself if I did what Nancy wanted.  We couldn't continue to live like this.

    I continued talking to my daughter, "I'm sorry about what I said.  I shouldn't blame you for something that's not your fault.  You are the only family I got."

    "Are we going to the park?" she asked oblivious to what I was trying to say.

    "I don't know," I said giving up any further effort to explain my actions.  She was too young to realize what I had said earlier.  I just had to remember not to do it again.  Next time she might understand what I was saying and I didn't want to hurt her.

    "Give me a hug and I'll ask Grandmother if you can go to the park."

    "Okay," she tried to hug me with her short arms. I did hug her with my long ones.  I tried to hug all the hurtful words away.  I felt a choking sensation in my throat.  I want to cry.  How did I get like this?  Was my whole life going to continue on

    "Okay," she tried to hug me with her short arms. I did hug her with my long ones.  I tried to hug all the hurtful words away.  I felt a choking sensation in my throat.  I want to cry.  How did I get like this?  Was my whole life going to continue on this path?  And what about Niara?  I couldn’t' t let this happen to her.

    I knew I was only nineteen, but I wanted to be more of a mother than my own mother had been.  I wanted to be in my daughter's life.  I wanted to teach her-- take her to the zoo, and the library.  I wanted us to go one trips.  I wanted her to have the love my mother didn't bother showing me.

    "See you Monday," I said standing up.

    "Park Grandmah?" Niara asked walking to the older woman.

    "If that is what you want."

    "Yes," said the little girl.

    "Goodbye Mummy." she said looking back at me as she and her grandmother were getting ready to leave.

    "Bye," I said.

    "Take your time thinking about it.  There is no rush," said Nancy.  "I know it's going to be a hard decision to make."

    "I don't know.  Maybe I will think about it."

    "Goodbye Cathleen," said Nancy closing the front door behind her...

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

 

    'Please put some more ice in my glass Niara,"...

    'Could you cut me a slice of that chocolate cake dear?'

    'I need a coupla Tylenols Niara.  This headache is getting worse,'...

    'Any more coffee left?'

 

    If one more Great Aunt or Great Uncle or first cousin, or neighbor or friend of the family told me to get them one more glass of ice or piece of cake or cup of coffee or glass of water or Tylenol because their stomach couldn't tolerate aspirin.  I was going to snap.  Right here, in the middle of this living room.  I was not going to give a warning:  I was just going to tell them to 'get up and get it yourself!'

    All day long, since people have been coming back to the house from the funeral, I have been acting like a servant.  I've been getting them this and getting them that.

    A lot of them acted like a party was going on instead of a funeral. I could hear laughter in many corners of the house.  I knew many of them were grieving over Grandmother's death, but it still made me uncomfortable to hear the cheerfulness in the air.

    I expected the house to be quiet with mourning, I expected more crying, but that was not what was going on.  People were remembering stories of when Grandmother was a little girl or when she first met Grandfather or some other funny event in her life.

    When were they going to leave?  It was already after eleven o'clock.  I understood that many of them traveled far to get here, but I still could not wait until they left.

    I wanted to leave all the noise behind.  I wanted to go into my bedroom and cry.  My grandmother was dead.  The woman who loved me, who took me to the park when I was small, who insisted that I become a girl scout, who signed me up for modern dance class, who cleaned up my vomit whenever I did not make it to the bathroom, who explained my period to me, who bought me my first bra, who told me not to have sex until I got married, who made me go to church whether I felt like it or not... was dead.  She was gone.  And her love for me was gone.  It no longer existed.  I cold feel the tears forming in my eyes and my nose began to run. I sniffed real hard trying to keep the mucus from running out.

    My grandmother was gone; she would never see me go on my senior prom or graduate from high school.  She would never get a chance to inspect my first boyfriend-- and I would never be able to tell her about my first kiss.  I cried at these thoughts.  I looked around the room for a tissue box.

    Why did she have to die?  Why did she have to get breast cancer?  Why didn't anybody feel the lump?  Why didn't the doctors find it earlier?  I thought when they removed both breasts everything was going to be all right, but then the doctors said it had spread too far for them to do anything else.  I hated seeing her in all that pain.  I knew she had to die, but I still had a hard time accepting it.

    I quietly left the living room and headed for the kitchen.  I pushed the glass door blocking its entrance and walked through the threshold.  I felt very drained.  From the moment I got up and got dressed (skipping breakfast), to the funeral and burial, I had not stopped once to rest.  I even helped the women from my church cook the dinner.  We prepared fried chicken, baked chicken, ham, pork chops, collard greens, mustard greens, rice and gravy, potato salad, candied yams...

    It had been a long day and seeing my mother had not helped one bit.  Why had she come?  I was surprised to see her and even more surprised that she had the nerve to sit with Grandfather and me.

    As I thought about Cathleen, I picked up a dirty fork and began scraping the food from the plates that seemed to be everywhere.  It was probably going to take all night to clean the kitchen or even to see the whiteness of the countertop again.  Greasy smudges were on everything: glasses, plates, forks, spoons, cabinets, walls.  Maybe by the time I finished in here all of my family would be gone.  I hoped so.

    I opened the dishwasher door and pulled out the top rack.  Stacking the dirty cups and glasses in the rack was going to be the easy part, because I only had to rinse them.  But the silverware was something else, food particles were sticking to them making it difficult to clean.  I filled the sink with hot water and put the forks, knives and spoons in to soak.  I then grabbed the stack of dishes I had just scraped and put them in the sink.  Most of this stuff needed to soak.

    I was glad I didn't have on long sleeves, because if I did I would be constantly pushing them up in order to keep them out of the dish water.

    "I didn't know you were in here," my Grandfather spoke from the doorway.  He was carrying a cup balanced on a saucer.  He walked over to the stove and lightly touched the kettle. 

    "It's not hot," I said walking over to the kitchen table.  I removed the remainder of dirty dishes and wiped the crumbs onto the floor.  I'd sweep and mop it before I went to bed.

    "Did everybody leave?" I asked.

    "Just about.  My sister and brother have decided to stay a few weeks.-- 'til everything is settled.  The will has to be read."

    "Oh,"I walked back to the sink.  I dipped the dishcloth into the lukewarm water and began wiping the food spills from the countertop.  The kitchen was looking a little better.  I don't know how long it took to get to this point, but I was glad I was making progress.

    He spoke again, "I didn't expect Cathleen to blurt out our decision like that."

    The kettle whistled letting us know the water was hot.  He poured himself a cup and then added two tablespoons of instant coffee.  He lightened it with creamer and took a sip.  Grandfather did not bother to move away from the stove.

    "I wanted to talk to you first-- to explain things."

    I stopped working to look at him.

    "Explain what?"

    "I getting old Niara.  I won't be around forever--"

    "Don't say that.  I don't want to hear it," I wanted to stick my soapy fingers in my ears.  I really didn't want to hear anything else about dying.

    "I know Niara, but one day I am going to die too," he said. "And I do not want to leave you here all alone-- with no family."

    "That wont' happen.  I got family."

    "Most of them are old just like me.  I want to make sure you will be taken care of when I'm gone.  Hadn't really thought about it until Nancy died."

    I wanted to say Grandfather you aren't going anywhere.  You are going to be around for a long time.  But I couldn't say it because, I didn't know if it was true.  So I kept my mouth shut and listened.

    "I always thought your father would step in and eventually take over raising you.  I cannot understand why he's refused to do that.  I know he and your mother don't get along, but that's no reason to ignore you-- whatever their differences are."

    "It doesn't matter anymore.  I don't care about either of them," I said.

    "I hope you don't mean that," he said.

    "Why shouldn't I?  They don't care about me.  Cathleen's never been around for me and the last time I stayed with father  all we did was argue.  He didn't really want me there.  And his wife doesn't like me either.  She didn't want me to touch anything in her precious home.  How was I supposed to stay there for a month and not use her washing machine or dryer?

    "It's ridiculous for an adult to act like that," Grandfather declared.

    "Did she expect me to walk to the laundry mat?  Well I wasn't going to do that.  I don't care what nobody said.  But you know what really gets me?  Not once did father stand up for me.  I was always the one in the wrong.  It was never Shelby.  I was his daughter long before she was his wife.  Don't that count for something?"

    "It should, but we can't change him   He's got to do that by himself."

    "I doubt that will happen-- anyway who cares.  I'll be grown soon."

    "Well don't write him off completely Niara."

    "It's too late.  I've already waited too long."

    "We'll see," said Grandfather. "But right now I think we should talk about your mother.  I want you to spend the summer with her."

    "What-- what did you say?"

    "I think you should get to know her."

    "Is that what she meant when we were back at the church?"  She can forget it.  I don't want to know her."

    "I'm sorry Niara, but it has been decided.  I am going to South Caroline in a few weeks to visit some family.  I need to get out of this house.  It's too depressing here without Nancy."

    "Can I go with you?"

    "It's better that you spend the time with your mother."

    "She wants you to come."

    "Oh after all this time she suddenly wants me to come and stay with her-- just like that?  I won't do it.  I don't want to see her again."

    "Give her a chance Niara.  Things weren't easy for her.  She thought she was doing the right thing by letting us raise you."

    "So where has she been all this time? How come she never been here to see me?  Or even called.?"

    "I don't have an answer for you."

    "And I don't have no rap for a mother who did that to me either."

    "You are being too hard on her."

    "No I'm not.  How else should I feel?

    "I don't know, but  you will need a mother.  I have talked things over with Cathleen and she will be here Friday night.  She is coming to pick you up."

    "Huh? What?" I was totally stunned.  "This Friday?  All this was decided without anybody talking to me?"

    "I am talking to you."

    "What good is that now?  Everything is set."

    "Yes it is, but you still can express how you feel.  I know this is going to be hard on you."

    "So why are you doing it?  She's got no business coming back into my life-- none!"

    "But she's your mother--"

    "It means nothing to me."

    "You may not agree Niara, but reestablishing a relationship with her is important for you."

    "No it is not."

    "One day you might need her," said Grandfather.

    "I hope not.  Because if I do, she'll probably let me down again."

    "You will only be with her for the summer," he said trying to appeal to me.  "That's not a long time.  Try to get to know her.  She might not be all that bad."

    "Can I go now?" I asked wanting to put an end to this conversation.  "I'll finish cleaning the kitchen in the morning."

    "Go ahead Niara. I'll sweep up here and put out the trash."

    "Night," I said walking out of the room with my head down.  He couldn't really be telling me to forgive my mother for not loving me.  If she had, she would not have given me away.  No I didn't want to reestablish anything with her.  She wasn't my mother and she could never be my mother.

    I was too tired to wash my face and hands or do any of my normal preparations for bed.  I just walked into my room and threw myself across the bed; I didn't undress.  Or bother turning out the light.  I just fell asleep with my arms and legs dangling over the sides of the bed.  And, my face was crushed against my pillows.

    If she wanted me to live with her, she was going to have to drag me from this room kicking and screaming.  I wasn't going out any other way.

 

   

CHAPTER THREE

 

 

 

    I wish I had kept my promise.  I wish I had put up a fight-- made Cathleen drag me out of my room, but I didn't.  I couldn't upset Grandfather like that so I left my room like a whipped puppy.  I walked out passively, but I refused to acknowledge her.  There was no way I could say anything to her without me getting really ugly.  So I kept my mouth shut.

    I carried all my boxes and suitcases out to the car and kissed Grandfather goodbye.  I made him swear to call me when he got to South Caroline.  I even begged him to change his mind, but he wouldn't.

    He said, "No Niara.  I think this is best for you," and then kissed me on my cheek.

    I refused to look at the woman who had come for me.  She didn't deserve even that level of respect. So I ignored her.  I got into the passenger's seat and slammed the car door.  I was hoping I'd slammed it so hard that the door would fall off its hinges.  Then maybe she'd change her mind.  Of course, that didn't happen.  So I settled for putting on my earphones and drowning out any awareness of her by turning up the music as high as it would go. 

    She didn't say a word to me.  Instead she started the car; we drove away.  No attempt at speaking was made until she angrily reached across the seat and snatched the earphones out of my walkman.

    "Trying to ignore me is not going to change the situation," said Cathleen, taking her eyes off the street to look at me.

    "I got nothing to say to you."

    "Don't you want to know where we are going?"

    "No."

    "Did your Grandfather tell you anything about me?"

    "Yes."

    "Did he say why you are coming to stay with me?"

    "Yes," I said.  I was anxious to end any communication with this woman.

    "George feels that you and I--"

    "I'm tired of talking.  When are you going to be finished?"

    "Look Niara, I know this isn't easy for you, but let's not start off wrong."

    "Don't tell me how to behave.  We started off wrong years ago."
        "I had my reasons for doing that," she explained.

    "Please, before you even start.  I don't want to hear them.  All that matters is that you did it and that's that."

    "But I want you to understand why."

    "No.  You understand this.  I don't like you and I'm not going to."

    "That's a real nice thing to say.  Is that supposed to make me angry?  Are you trying to make me change my mind about  having you live with me?

    "Have you?"

    "No."

    "Fine," I dismissed her.

    "Aren't you curious about where you'll be living?"

    "No."

    "Well I'm going to tell you anyway.   I have a house in Philadelphia--"

    "Probably in some ghetto," I muttered.

    "I guess you really do hate me?"

    "You don't have to guess."

    "You're got a very nasty mouth Niara.  You weren't that way as a little girl."

    "How do you know?  You wasn’t around that long."

    "I was with you until you were three."

    "Oh now I'm supposed to be impressed?  You were there for me for three whole big years-- how can I thank you Cathleen.  Tell me what I should do."

    "Don't talk to me like that."

    "I'll say what I want.  I'm not a child anymore in case you hadn't noticed," I  plugged my earphones back into the walkman.   If she wanted to talk she could talk to herself.  I was finished with this conversation.

    We continued the rest of the ride in semi-silence.  I listened to the walkman and said nothing.  She drove over some bridge I didn't know the name of and into Philadelphia. 

    The city looked dirty.  Trash was dumped on the sides of the roads.  Littered papers and beer bottles were everywhere.  The trail of debris seemed to follow us all the way to the little row house we eventually pull up in front of.  I definitely was not impressed.  It was a tacky looking house hidden by white aluminum siding.  The steps were severely cracked.  If I wasn't careful, I could see myself falling into them and disappearing forever.

    For the first time I looked directly at her and spoke, "You have got to be kidding?  I'm not supposed to live there, am I?"

    "I haven't been living here long-- I bought the place six months ago.  I am fixing it up a little at a time-- the steps will be the next thing I'll get repaired.

    "I'm going to have to live here for three months?  In this run down dump-- does it look that bad inside?"

    "You have a nice room," she said evading my question.

    "I guess it does."

    "Get your things from the trunk."

    "Do I have to?"

    "Yes," she said as I was walking to the back of her car. 

    I should have known by the gray car she was driving that her house looked bad.  Her car looked like it had been new in 1973.  It had rust all around the trunk and sides.  I hadn't really looked at it before.  I'd been too angry.  But looking at it now, I was embarrassed to even stand next to it.  She must really be poor if she drives something like this.

    It was one car I definitely didn’t want to be seen in again.  And as if to emphasize my feelings, I quickly lifted the trunk and reached inside for my bags.  I brought with me four leather bags full of clothes and a lot of cardboard boxes;  the boxes were full of clothes and shoes and body products...

    By the time I had unloaded the trunk, Cathleen had gotten out and was leading the way up the cracked steps.  I followed her.  She unlocked the door and I walked into the house.  I couldn't see anything until she flipped on the light.  And then, I saw a small living room.  It was neat, but everything looked old.  The carpet, the couch, the wallpaper, the coffee table.  It looked like she had furnished the whole room with stuff she'd bought in a Salvation Army Store.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  Was I supposed to live here?  In this cheap looking house?

    "You can take your things upstairs while I park the car.  Your room is at the end of the hall."

    "I hope it doesn't look as tired as this," I said carrying my heavy bags upstairs.

    I made three trips up and down the stairs before I had everything piled up against one wall in the room; I wasn't about to unpack anything.  I was too tired and I didn't belong here.  I stretched out across the bed and hoped I wouldn't catch anything.  I also hoped Cathleen would leave me alone now that all my stuff was moved in. I didn't want to talk to her-- not tonight.  But I guess my hoping was in vain, because she walked into the room as I was staring down at the floor.  The carpet in here was a tacky blue.  It was just about as flat as my chest was.

    "I'm glad you are here," she said awkwardly.

    "I don't know what for.  I'm not here because I want to be.   Grandpah made me come."

    "I'm still glad you're here."

    "Yeah, okay."

    "Do you have any questions?"

    "Not really," I said disinterested.

    "I guess you are wondering where I've been all these years?"

    "Not anymore," I said.  "I stopped trying to figure that out a long time ago-- it's not important now."

    "Maybe not to you, but I want you to know anyway."

    "Go ahead.  Tell me if you want.  It's not going to make a difference now."

    "I guess you know I was sixteen when I got pregnant?"

    "Yeah I know that.  Grandmah told me."

    "Did she tell you that I had to raise you by myself-- since your father wasn't around?"

    "I know that too."

    "Trying to take care of a small baby is real hard on somebody sixteen-- I did it for a while, but then your grandmother offered to take you for a while.  Until I got myself together--"

    "I can see that never happened," I mumbled.

    She ignored me and continued speaking, "At first I rejected the offer, but later on I realized it was the right thing to do.  I didn't want you to live the same life I did.  I wanted you to finish school-- not be limited 'cause of the place you grew up in."

    "So what happened?  Where have you been?" I asked.

    "In and out of different clinics," she said truthfully.  "I started messing with drugs soon after you left.  I thought it was no big deal-- I did just a little here and there."
        "You became an addict?"  I said incredulously.

    "Not at first.  It didn't seem to affect me, but soon I was using it a lot.  Didn't mean to get hooked."

    "I guess it was crack?" I asked.

    "Yes.  Cocaine is today's problem.  I was depressed.  A few girlfriends were doing it.  Said it would make me forget all about everything, so I tried it."

    "Boy!" I looked at Cathleen. "You really are dumb.  Doing crack?  Didn't you know how bad that stuff was?"

    "No I didn't."

    "You really are stupid!"

    "I know that now."

    "You should have known it back then."

    "Well I didn't," she said defensively.

    "So what happened to you?"

    "I got strung out and that's when your grandmother stopped hearing from me."

    "You've been an addict for twelve years?"

    "No.  I've been clean for four."

    "Does Grandpah know what you are?"

    "Were," she corrected.  "He knows I am recovering."

    "And he still wants me to get to know you?" I asked in obvious disdain.

    "I asked him not to tell you.  I wanted to be the person you heard it from."

    "And he listened to you?"

    "He did, because I've changed.  No more drugs.  I'm not making excuses Niara.  I just want you to know the truth.  My life hasn't been easy."

    "Neither has mine," I said.

    "I'm sorry."

    "Don't be.  I had other people around to help me."

    "I'm not proud of the past, but I want to start over again with you."

    "You are wasting your time. I don't want to start over again with you."

    "I want you to understand things."

    "Does it matter now?"

    "To me," she said.

    "That's your problem then, not mine."

    "I know you are mad at me, but give me a chance.  I know I made a lot of mistakes but, I can't change that.  All I can do is go on from here."

    "I'm not asking you to change.  It was your life.  You did what you wanted."

    "I was only sixteen back then.  I didn't know anything.  I was young and dumb."

    "So I keep hearing," I said rolling onto my back.  I was tired of looking at her and I was tired of hearing excuses.  Let her tell them to somebody else.  I wasn't interested in hearing them anymore.  I'm almost grown and the last thing I needed was a mother coming back into my life.  I didn't need her now.  I wanted to feel sorry for her, but I couldn't.  I couldn't get pass all the years I waited for her to come and get me.  I couldn't get pass all the times I cried because of her.  I refused to forgive her for any of the pain she'd caused me.

    Cathleen spoke, breaking into my thoughts, "Do you spend a lot of time with your father?"

    "Same amount I spend with you," I said sarcastically.  "He's living in New York and he doesn't have time for me either."

    "Oh."

    "Are you finished yet?"

    "I guess I am," she said and walked out of the room.

    I should have been extremely happy that she was leaving me alone, but I wasn't.  I felt a sadness inside that I was reluctant to admit.  I didn't want to understand anything she had to say.  I wanted to continue to hate her as I did for all those years she never bothered to think about me.  I wanted to be invincible where she was concerned.  I could not allow her or anybody else to hurt me again.

    So I laid on the bed watching her leave.  I was being tough.  I would not show her any emotion.  I was not going to be weak or break down because she told me some sad story.  Those were the decisions she chose to make, now she was going to have to live with them.

    I closed my eyes.  I just wanted to rest for a moment; I was tired.  I intended to get up and put on my night clothes, but instead I fell asleep.