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