Mommy's Angel (2 page)

H
i, Mom,” I said dryly as I walked in from school. My mom was sitting on the couch staring into the blank television screen. A lit cigarette was hanging on the side of an already filled ashtray on the wooden coffee table in front of her. She was damn near lifeless just like she had been since Curtis died. My brother’s murder affected a lot of people in a lot of ways. Antione moved out. I hardly went outside anymore. The whole block deadened. People were scared to sit on their front porches, fearful of stray bullets. But nobody was more impacted than my mom. She was never the same. The doctors said that she had fell into a depression that some pills would be able to control, but apparently the pills made it worse. She got hooked on them, and when they ran out she turned to alcohol. Eventually when the liquor wasn’t easing her pain, she turned to heroin, her current drug of choice. And on top of that she met a drug-addict-pervert, Marvin, who she called her old man. And for the past nine months, we’ve all been forced to live as a family, which was, as you can imagine,
hell
.

I went straight upstairs to do my usual check on my little brother Kindle. He was only two and a half, so he wasn’t in school yet. And my mom couldn’t afford day care so he stayed home all day with my mom and her boyfriend. For that reason, I made it my business to make sure he had breakfast before I left for school in the morning and I checked in on him and spent a little time with him immediately after I got home from school.

“Angel,” Marvin said as he exited the bathroom. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

I ignored him and proceeded to enter my little brother’s room.

“Kindle is sleep,” Marvin informed me, stopping me in my tracks. “Come here, though. I want you to read something for me,” Marvin said, reaching out for my hand.

“Can’t you bring it out here?” I asked, trying to be loud enough for my mother to hear me.

Marvin gripped my wrist and gave me the look that meant I’d better do as he said or else, so I went. Once inside my mom’s barely furnished room, Marvin forcefully threw me on top of a mattress that my mother and him called their bed. He closed the bedroom door, first placing a towel between the door’s lock and its frame, to keep it shut. Afterward he dragged his skeletal frame over to me casually. He began to unfasten his pants as he stood looking down on me as if I were a juicy steak dinner. His eyes were glassy and only halfway open. Droplets of sweat began to gather at his temples. He started licking his lips slowly. I closed my eyes to avoid the sight of him. I wanted to cry, but it wouldn’t do anything but make him happier—so I didn’t. I just laid there on my back and prayed while he had his way with me once more.

“Naja Chanel Washington,
where have you been?
” My mother’s high-pitched voice woke me out of my sleep.

I turned over slowly and looked at the purple alarm clock that sat on the computer desk in my room. It was 9:25 at night and my little sister was just coming in from school.

“I was over Aunt Jackie’s.” Naja replied, with much attitude.

“You’s a damn lie!” my mother retorted. Then she provided evidence. “I called Jackie and she said she ain’t seened you all day! Now, I’m gonna ask you one more time,
where have you been?
”

“None of your business,” Naja mumbled as I heard her attempt to dart up the steps. Naja lost more and more respect for my mom by the day. The next thing I knew, I heard tumbling and screaming, and by the time I was able to force myself out of bed Naja came storming into our bedroom, holding her anger-stricken face in her tiny rough hands. Before I could say a word, Marvin appeared at our doorway. He stood silent at first and picked his teeth with a toothpick. Seeing Marvin, I closed my legs tight and rested my arms in my lap. I could still feel the burning sensation he had caused hours earlier and I didn’t want to give him any thoughts about doing it again.

“That’s what the hell you get, runnin’ around with those boys, comin’ in here this time of night. You need to be more like your sister and come straight home from school!” Marvin had the nerve to say.

Meanwhile my mom was yelling, “Come on, let’s go,” to Marvin, and my sister was lying in her twin bed across the room crying. All I could think at that moment was how much I hated home.

B
oom! Boom! Boom!
The loud knock on my bedroom wall woke me up bright and early, as it did every weekday morning. Shortly after, the phone rang. I turned over in my bed and reached my hand down, grabbing the phone off the receiver. I knew to answer. I knew it was for me.

“Good morning,” I said, clearing my throat.

“You up?” Jamal asked in an upbeat tone.

I could hear loud rap music in the background.

“I’m not going to school today,” I told him.

“Why not?” Jamal asked.

“Because yesterday I got into a fight and the principal said if I get into one more altercation this year they goin’ kick me out. And I know if I go to school today that girl is gonna say somethin’ slick out her mouth and Ima have to hit ’er.”

“That’s bullshit. You just started that school. They can’t kick you out already,” Jamal said in a know-it-all kind of way.

“Jamal, eight fights already—I’m surprised I’m still in the school as it is,” I shot back at him.

“Damn, I ain’t know it been that many. You been holdin’ out on me, huh? You do need to chill out then, before they do kick ya ass out,” Jamal said.

“I know,” I said. “That’s why I’m not goin’ today. I need time to calm down and clear my head.”

“Well, let’s get together then,” Jamal suggested, making plans with my time.

“What time do you get off? I can meet you at your house.”

“I get off at six, but call up to the job at like one and act like you my mom. Tell ’em I got a family emergency and you need me to come home. You got the number,” Jamal instructed.

“Okay,” I responded, going along.

“I’m ’bout to bounce up outta here. I love you, boo,” he said.

“I love you, too,” I replied.

“Bye.” He hung up.

Jamal had been my boyfriend for the longest. We lived right next door to each other our whole lives. We started out as childhood playmates and then we became best friends, and as we grew up we started really feeling each other. He was the only one who fully understood my situation. After all, he’d been there from the beginning, before Curtis died and my mom got strung out. So in addition to liking me, he felt sorry for me and he always made it his business to look out for me. I could talk to him about anything—well, except for Marvin, but that was only to protect him. I knew if Jamal ever found out about what Marvin did to me he would have probably killed him without thinking twice, and I didn’t want Jamal going to jail for me or anybody, especially not no damn Marvin, so that was one thing I kept to myself. But for real though, I loved Jamal to death. He wasn’t like most guys. He really cared about me. He was always on my case about school, and basically he picked up where my mom left off.

Speaking of school, on my list of places I hated most school came second to home. And it wasn’t because I was like most people and just didn’t like school because to be real school was all right to me. I mean, I got good grades and never had problems with my classes. It was just that it was high school, which meant it was a fashion show. Everybody dressed fly, well, at least all the girls. They wore only name-brand clothes and jewelry and their hair and nails stayed done. So for somebody like me, whose mom was smokin’, it was hard for me to compete with them. I hardly wore name-brand clothes and when I did it was the off-the-rack kind, the defected stuff that got sold for cheap in the secondhand stores. And all the nice clothes I had when my brother was alive and we had money were too small, so whenever I tried to wear any of them, I got laughed at. I was constantly fighting to defend myself. So, no, I was not a troublemaker, but I was damned if I let those girls, specifically, Marie and her squad, call me all kinds of names. That explained the fights.

After hanging up with Jamal, I laid in bed a little longer contemplating what I was going to do that day. Through my half-open eyes I watched my little sister get ready for school. Naja was a shorter version of me, except she was a shade lighter than my golden complexion and she had a pair of dimples that were the only telltale sign of her being twelve years old. Her hair was as curly and jet-black as mine and she was as thick and overdeveloped as me, too. She sat on the edge of her bed and began digging through a trash bag of dirty clothes. She pulled out a pair of dingy jeans, shook them, and placed them on her bed. She then retrieved a pair of socks from the same bag. I turned over in my bed and faced the wall. The pictures of Jamal that were taped to the chipping paint made me grin. I felt tingly as I imagined hearing Jamal’s knock sound through that wall. Whenever I heard that knock I knew it was a new day and everything that had happened before then didn’t matter. It was out of my head. It was the past.

“Angel,” Naja said as she gently nudged me on my arm.

“What?” I asked as I turned toward my sister.

“You got fifty cents so I can get a bagel?” she asked.

“Didn’t Mommy go food shopping?” I questioned.

“No,” Naja said with twisted lips and attitude. “She got her money yesterday, but she gave her card to Aunt Jackie,” Naja explained.

I knew what that meant. Aunt Jackie let somebody spend all the money on the card for half the amount and her and my mom used the cash to get high. This happened often, at least every other month. It was only a few times that my mom actually had willpower enough to use her money on food as it was for.

“Naja, pass me my jeans,” I said as I motioned for her to give me the pair of jeans that were draped over the foot of my bed frame.

I dug in all of the pockets and gathered the loose change. It totaled eighty-five cents. I dumped it into Naja’s palm.

“Here.”

“Thanks,” she said as she headed out of our room. “I’ll pay you back,” she added as she left, possibly headed for school.

I closed my eyes to keep from crying. I couldn’t believe how bad our situation had gotten in just a couple years. It was crazy how one day we had everything and hardly any worries and the next we were barely able to eat.

I decided just then that I would look for a job that day. I was not about to spend a whole day in the house with my mom and Marvin anyway. I got up, took a stand-up bath, put on some clothes, and left out.

The air was brisk and the wind was blowing hard. For a minute I wanted to turn around and get back into my bed, but I had a plan and I didn’t want to put it off until another day. Besides, it was almost winter, so every day was bound to be that cold or colder. My plan was to go to all of the fast-food restaurants and fill out applications. I had to get a job. It was the only way I would be able to take care of Naja and Kindle, even if I only made enough to buy food. I stopped in Wendy’s first, being as though that was my favorite place to eat. I would love to work at Wendy’s just to get free Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers and Frosties all the time.

I walked in the door and it was just a few people inside eating. I went up to the counter and approached an older gentleman.

“Hi, are y’all hiring?” I asked him.

“Actually we are. Do you have working papers?”

I looked at him dumbfounded. I wasn’t sure what to say because I didn’t know what working papers were. He must have figured that much out, too, because he followed up with a second question.

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen,” I said quickly, happy to be asked something I knew the answer to.

“Oh,” he sighed. “You have to be sixteen to work here. Sorry. Come back and see us on your next birthday.”

I thanked him and walked back out into the cold. At that point my stomach started growling. I guess smelling all that good food in Wendy’s reminded me that I hadn’t eaten yet. I walked across the busy street and tried my luck at Dunkin’ Donuts. Like I thought, they gave me the same sixteen-with-working papers routine.

Having no luck with the chain stores, I decided to try a few of the neighborhood mom-and-pop stores to see if they needed help, but they all told me that business was too slow for them to hire any more workers, part time or otherwise. I was about ready to give up on looking for a job. It was cold, I was hungry, and everybody was turning me away. I was upset because I felt stuck. I looked around and saw people walking and talking, driving and working. Everybody was going about their business, not thinking about me. I was nobody’s concern. Whether me and my sister and brother ate or not didn’t matter to any of them. I was on my own. And that was the first time I had ever felt a survival instinct. It seemed like my mind went into a whole other mode. I followed my instinct and raced up Flatbush Avenue to South Oxford. I walked two blocks up and reached my last resort. I was hesitant about knocking on doors because I had forgotten which house Antione lived in. Lucky for me, while I was contemplating, a black Porsche SUV came speeding down South Oxford. The driver swiftly maneuvered the truck into a parking space and out jumped Antione.

The last time Antione and I saw each other was two years ago at my brother’s funeral. And even though we lived a hop, skip, and a jump away from each other, somehow I never ran into him and he never ran into me.

“Ant Man?” I asked reluctantly.

The tall, skinny, brown-skinned guy squinted his eyes as he walked in my direction.

“Angel?” he asked back.

“Yeah,” I said with a smile on my face.

“What’s up?” he asked as he cheerfully gave me a bear hug. “Look at you all grown up.” He cracked a boyish smile.

I gave him a slight laugh and said, “I know.”

“So what’s up? What you doin’ around here?” Antione asked. But before I could respond he said, “Let’s get out of the cold first.”

I followed behind Antione as he approached his brownstone and unlocked his door.

“The hawk is out that ma’ fucka,” he said as he led me inside of his two-story apartment.

“Sit down, warm up,” Antione said as he put the bag he was carrying on the bar that separated his kitchen and dining room.

I took a seat on Antione’s white leather sectional.

“You want something to eat or drink?” he asked as he took off his tan Carhartt jacket.

“No, I’m all right,” I said, lying, as I looked around the apartment.

Antione proceeded to take a platter of breakfast food out of the bag. He opened the top and steam floated from the food. The turkey bacon, cheese eggs, grits, home fries, and toast looked so good, and my stomach was empty, so I told the truth.

“You know what, I am kinda hungry,” I said with a childish smile. I was embarrassed for some reason. I shouldn’t have been, because Antione was like family.

“Come over here and get some of this food then. Don’t be actin’ shy,” he said, making me feel a little more comfortable.

“So what’s up, Angel. How you been? How’s your mom and everybody?” Antione quizzed as he scooped food from his platter onto a paper plate he had gotten from off the counter.

I chuckled. I felt so silly. I didn’t know why I was acting so bashful around somebody I had knew my whole life.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, giving me a fork.

I immediately took a forkful of scrambled eggs to my mouth. The taste of those eggs could have made me sing. I haven’t had breakfast like that in a while. I was used to eating cereal. Or if I had some change left over from lunch money Jamal would give me I would get a bagel and a juice.

“Ant Man, I need a huge favor,” I blurted out after swallowing my food.

Antione looked at me confused. “What’s that?” he asked.

I put on that stupid smile again and said, “I need a job.”

“A job? You came down here after all this time to ask me about a job? Man, I thought you was coming to visit,” Antione said as he dunked his toast in his grits and put the whole piece in his mouth. “Anyway, you too young to be workin’. Ain’t you like fourteen, fifteen? You don’t need to be worryin’ about no job right now. You should be focused on school,” he said in between chewing the toast and grits.

“I
need
a job, Ant Man,” I said, sipping the orange juice he had poured for me.

Knowing exactly what I was getting at, Antione looked at me and said, “I don’t know anybody that hire fourteen and fifteen year olds.”

“That’s why it would be a favor,” I said.

Antione put his eating on hold and took a napkin from the bag the food came out of. He wiped his mouth and said, “Angel, you’re like my little sister. I can’t put you out there like that.”

I understood Antione completely, hell, I didn’t want to put
myself
out there like that, but my home situation was getting the best of me, and my choices were very limited—if there were any at all.

“Ant Man, listen, you don’t know how hard it’s been on me, Naja, and Kindle since Curt died. My mom is gettin’ worse, and somebody has to feed us,” I told him. “You know I wouldn’t even be comin’ at you about nothing like this if I didn’t desperately need it,” I added.

“Yeah, but Curt wouldn’t want me to put you onto somethin’ like that,” Antione said.

“I know, but he damn sure wouldn’t want me in the position I’m in,” I said, keeping it real. Antione knew like I knew that my brother took good care of us. We weren’t rich or anything, but when he had money we had money. We never went without food and we always had nice clothes. “Ant Man, I ain’t goin’ lie to you, we goin’ through hell over there. My house might as well be a crack house. The same house you damn near grew up in. My mom and her dude be gettin’ high in there day and night. And Kindle be around it all the time ’cause he ain’t in school yet. It don’t be no food half the time. And look at me. Look at my clothes. I’m tellin’ you, Ant Man, this is a cry for help. I tried the fast-food thing but they said I had to be sixteen. I just don’t know what else to do,” I pled my case.