Under the Peach Tree (3 page)

I was afraid that John would treat my momma wrong. I heard too many stories about abusive, drunken men. As much as I hated my momma, I loved her enough to only want the best for her. John had been staying with us for a month and seemed to make Momma happy, so I slowly began to accept him as an addition to our house.

Momma seemed happier with him around. She was always walking around the house, humming and cleaning. Treating me just like my sister. Being the mom she should've been from day one. I didn't buy it. Soon the honeymoon phase of her relationship would die down, she'd no longer be as happy, and would return to her usual bitter ways. I kept myself prepared. Faith, on the other hand, was too naïve, and fell right into the trap from day one. I couldn't blame her. We seemed like a family for once. A real, good family.

Most of the time, John was working at a bank. He came home around seven, just in time for dinner, and would amuse us with his eventful day. We all would sit around the dinner table and laugh. John was good at making people feel at ease with him.

“So, how's school, Hope?” he asked, gravely interested. I was taken by surprise at the fact that he had asked me and not Faith. I was used to everyone giving Faith all of the attention. John was different. He tried harder with me, because he knew how differently Momma treated Faith and me, and he would always try to balance it out by showing me more attention. I also believed he just wanted my approval.

“Um.” I swallowed a huge bite of spaghetti. “School's okay.”

“I got an A on my math test,” Faith exclaimed.

I almost choked on another forkful of spaghetti. Leave it up to Faith to brag and turn all heads toward her. I was sure John was going to congratulate her but his eyes stayed focused on me.

“And you, Hope? What grade did you get?”

I eyed John quizzically. “I got a D.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because math is my weakest subject.” I sighed.

I heard Momma's fork drop on her plate. “Hope, now what I tell you about them grades? I'm 'bout tired of you failing every class. You—”

“Juanita, let me handle this,” John said calmly as he looked at Momma. He watched her as if waiting for her to continue overreacting, and when she didn't, he continued. “Hope, are all of your grades bad?”

“No,” I said. I didn't consider C to be a bad grade.

“What's your favorite class?”

That was easy. “Choir.”

“You like to sing?”

I nodded.

“How about this, if you get that math grade up to a C, I'll take you and your sister to a concert in the city.”

Our eyes lit up. “Really?” I asked.

He nodded. “I am a man of my word.”

I looked to Momma for approval and she reluctantly nodded. I jumped up from my seat in excitement. “John, thank you! This is the bomb! I ain't never been to a concert before and I always wanted to go. I want to perform on stage in front of millions one day, like Mariah Carey. I promise I'll get my grades up. I'll make it a B!”

John smiled at my momma and pointed his fork in her direction. “You got to give them motivation. Yelling and screaming at them won't help a thing.”

And he was right. A month later, I brought my grade up to a B and John took us to go see Mariah Carey live. It was one of the best moments of my childhood. That day, I really began to admire the man who walked into all of our lives.

When the winter came, so did the cold that threatened all of our sanity. And I don't mean the kind of cold that makes a person turn their heat up; this was a cold that came from the mind and, if not contained, could devour the body. John had now been around for five months and I noticed Momma's edge coming back. Their honeymoon phase was definitely over. John and Momma started to argue a lot about some of the stupidest things.

John and I were in a middle of playing a card game on the floor when Momma burst through the front door, hot and heavy and ready to attack. My heart stopped. I ran through all the things I did in the past week that would upset her. I had finally got into a fight with Dee Dee, Jordan's sister; I had stolen some donuts from the corner store; and I kissed a boy behind the high school. Did anyone see these things? I had made sure to be careful.

Momma's eyes skipped over me and settled on John. She burned holes into him. “John, what's the real reason you moved out here to the country?”

He froze. “Because I wanted to be with you.”

“You got one more time to lie to me.” Momma pointed a firm finger at John and took another step toward him. “Why did you move out here to the country?”

John swallowed hard and stood up slowly. “Because I love you.”

Momma screamed and lunged at John, swinging wildly. “I heard about your gambling problem! I know you fled the city so that they wouldn't kill you! You don't love me. You're using me!” She further explained that a man came up to her, showing her a picture of John, and told her that he was looking for John Davis, who owed him money. Said rumor had it that John was hiding out in our part of the country until things blew over.

“Baby, I promise!” John said while pushing Momma against the wall. He had both of her hands pinned against the wall and was struggling to contain her. “Yes, I got into some trouble, but that was after you asked me to move in with you. That's not why I'm here!”

Momma pushed herself away from him. “You won't lie to me. Get out of my house.”

John's eyes focused on me. They were so pleading. He was silently begging for me to believe him. And I did. I loved John. It took months, but once I trusted him, once I saw his dedication to me, I flocked to him. I had never had a daddy or any man love me like John did.

“Momma, please,” I begged. “Don't make him go. Please!”

“Hope . . .” She looked at me, her eyes a raging fire. She shook her head and then turned toward the hallway. “Faith!” she screamed out and waited for Faith to come into the room. “Go pack his clothes and sit them on the porch.” Faith looked from Momma, to John, and then to me. I could see the worry lines etched in her forehead but she didn't dare ask what was going on. Faith simply nodded but she didn't move. Momma returned her attention to John. “You can come get your stuff in the morning but I want you gone. Now!”

“Momma, no!” I ran to John and wrapped my arms around him. My tears stole my vision, but I only hugged John tighter. “Don't make him leave!”

John's hands found my hair and caressed me softly. “It's okay, baby.”

“No, it's not!” I yelled, clinging tighter to his torso. I tried everything I could to make it hard for him to walk as he started to head toward the door. “John, don't go! Please, I'll talk to Momma. I'll make her listen.”

I looked at Faith, my eyes begging hers for help, but she just stood in the kitchen doorway; she hadn't moved or said a word. I hated her for just standing there. I hated that she didn't love John like I did. He was the glue that mended my happiness. He was the only thing that kept Momma from mistreating me. How could Faith stand there and not come to his defense?

John managed get out of the house and down the porch steps with me tugging and pulling him back to the house. He pried my hands from his shirt and gently pushed me away. “You're making this harder, Hope. Stop acting like a child. You're fifteen!” he said.

“John, don't leave me!” I cried, clinging to his shirt. He sighed and wiped the snot from my nose with a handkerchief and kissed my cheek. “John, if you leave, who's gonna love me?”

I struck a nerve and watched as a single tear paved a line down his face. He took my face into his hands and said, “Your sister will love you.”

I shook my head. “She's too consumed in her Bible to worry about me like she used to when we were kids.”

“Your momma wi—”

“She only loves Faith.”

John sighed but he wore an expression of determination. “Hope, I am a man of my word. Do you remember when I took you and your sister to that concert? Have I ever lied to you?” I shook my head. “Then believe me when I tell you this, I will be back. Give your momma time to calm down and think things through. Give it two weeks. I'll be back. I promise.”

“How do you know?”

John smiled. “Because when a woman loves, she loves.” He let go of my face and got into his car.

I watched him drive away, holding on to that promise.

I slowly walked back up to the house, knowing that Momma was ready to take all of her anger out on me for taking John's side. I didn't care. I'd welcome her slap across my face or the punch to my stomach. It was a distraction from the pain I felt inside.

“How dare you pick his side over mine? I'm your momma!” She stormed toward me, smacking me back against the front door. “Go in my room and start helping your sister pack his stuff. And no dinner for you. Go to bed hungry and miserable for all I care.”

Faith already had half of John's things packed away when I entered Momma's room. She froze when she saw my swollen cheek. I felt her condolences through unspoken words. I sat beside her and finished packing his stuff. I hid one of his shirts under my momma's bed and made a mental note to come back for it. I needed something to remember him by in case Momma didn't take him back. Faith once told me that only God keeps true to His word.

The next week was hell. Momma started drinking the moonshine our neighbors made, and would come home in a drunken fit, yelling at me for no reason at all. One night, as I sat watching TV with Faith, Momma came stumbling into the house with a long bag. I could already tell there was a dress inside of it. And obviously so could Faith, because she jumped off of the couch immediately.

“Momma, what is that?” she asked as Momma clumsily shut the door behind her.

“I bought you a dress,” she slurred. “For homecoming.”

“Homecoming?” I frowned. “She don't got a date!”

“Yeah, she does, and mind your business!” Momma yelled. “She going with Jordan.”

I almost threw up. “What? Faith, you know I hate him!”

“Well, Jordan gonna be a big basketball player one day and I want at least one of my daughters to be well off.” Momma's words stung but I didn't show the hurt that I felt. “Me and his momma got to talkin' and started arrangin' everything!”

Faith was oblivious to my hurt. She started ripping the bag away from the dress and held it in the air. It was a beautiful pink dress with multicolored rhinestones embedded in the waistline. The bottom of the dress was form fitting and was long enough to create a train that flowed behind her as she walked. It was by far the most beautiful dress I'd seen. Momma had to have paid a fortune for it, most likely the electric bill money.

“Where's my dress?” I felt silly to even ask.

“You got a date? No! So you don't get a dress.”

“Well, what if I got a date to homecoming?” I asked.

Momma laughed as if I'd said something stupid. “Girl, I told you that you can't date until you're eighteen.”

“And you told Faith she can't date until she's sixteen! It's not fair!”

“Well, she gonna marry Jordan one day, and y'all gonna be sixteen in a few weeks. Why are you even questioning me?” Momma asked. “Get out of my presence. You disturb me.”

“Fine.” I stumped back into my bedroom and slammed my door.

If Momma hadn't been preoccupied with Faith, she would've charged into my room and choked me for slamming doors in her house. I wanted to cry because her words hurt so badly. It was a poison that I unwillingly had to swallow. My stomach churned due to the side effects. I missed John. He would've bought us both a dress. The thought of him being gone brought tears to my eyes. Only a week had past but I was counting down the days until Momma changed her mind about him. Somehow I blamed myself for him leaving even though it had nothing to do with me. I was so used to everything being blamed on me; it was almost natural to self-loathe.

Faith came into my room a half hour later with her dress on. It fit perfectly on her small frame. As she spun around my room, the light reflected off of the rhinestones, making her look magical. I wanted to hate her for being the favorite, even though it wasn't her fault.

“It's beautiful,” she said. Her smile quickly turned into a frown. “But I'm gonna tell Momma to take it back.”

“Why? You deserve it.” I smiled, but it didn't meet my eyes.

“And you don't? Hope, when we were younger we couldn't stand up for ourselves. We didn't know how to tell Momma that she was wrong! But now we can. I ain't accepting another gift from her unless she gets you one too.”

“Faith, I'm used to it. It don't faze me no more,” I lied. The truth was I was crushed. It opened old scars that never healed properly. “Plus I ain't never wore a dress a day in my life and I ain't 'bout to start wearing one now.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I don't wanna go without you.”

“You got Jordan.”

She tried to hold back a smile. I knew she liked him deep down. There was nothing I could do about it.

“I do. Oh, I feel so special!” she said, twirling around the room again. “I'm gonna go change before I get it dirty.”

The cold around me returned once she left the room. I let my tears fall freely but held a pillow over my head so that no one could hear me cry. I wanted to run away, have a rich family with no kids adopt me, and buy me all the dresses my heart desired. I wanted to go to homecoming and dance. I wanted to be free.

All my life I was told I was the bad twin, the rotten one. I had so much anger sitting at the bottom of my heart, slowly rising. I envied my sister and hated my mother. If they thought I was bad as a child, they hadn't seen a thing. I'd show all of them how bad a girl could get. I'd be ruthless. A girl who no longer cared. I'd treat everyone as badly as I had been treated and I'd blame it all on Momma. She'd created a monster.