"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.