Life (19 page)

the morning. It wasn’t until I was older, years later, that I would

learn just how precious my college experience, along with Nandi’s

helpful advice, would be.

At eleven the next day my other roommate, Rober ta, woke

me. She was my homegirl from Miami. On campus they call her

the Mouth of the South. She could talk non-stop for hours with

that big-ass gold tooth in her mouth. She often dressed slatternly,

to put it mildly, with as little clothes as possible. She was over-

weight and short. I don’t know what she saw when she looked in

the mirror, but it made her feel good about herself. So I guess that

is what’s important about life.

“
I woke you up cause I’m finna go to the flea market and get

me some shoes. You wanna go?” she asked knowing damn well

how evil I get when I’m awakened from my sleep. I had trouble

going back to sleep.

I tossed the covers over my head, and grumbled something

about being tired and rolled over on my stomach. I heard the door

shut. I lay there in the dark and could not go back to sleep. I

thought about my picture being on the news, and heard Nandi’s

voice,

the only lawyer you’re going to be is a jailhouse lawyer.

The gun flashed in my mind. I sprung up in bed thinking

about Life’s sly ploy to get with me.

I took a quick shower, got dressed, did my hair, placed the gun

and the money in my book bag and drove to his hotel. Today the

Tallahassee heat was sweltering. I wore a pink halter top and white

shorts. I drove with the windows down trying to save gas. Halfway

to the hotel I was hit by the reality of what I was doing. Like a rit-

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ual of mating, boy meets girl, I was allured by this thug. He could

possibly ruin my future, my life, and deep down inside, I knew

that I was attracted to this man and his ravenous lovemaking

skills. He was rough, but sensitive in a way that a woman could

appreciate, and yet he was a damn thug that wore his pants sag-

ging and referred to me as ‘Shouty’. Yet in my mind, I couldn’t

help comparing him to Marcus who came up short in ways that

mattered to a woman at times. Marcus was sweet, that’s what I

told myself. He treated me like a lady.

*****

I knocked on the hotel door. Finally he answered, wearing

only his boxer shorts and his thang pointed right at me. The room

reeked of weed and something that could pass for sex. I stormed

in, a sista with a serious attitude.

“
You’re going to get me arrested! Did you see the news? And

that was not cute what you did by leaving that gun in the car!” I

was talking so fast that my tongue had a hard time tr ying to keep

up with my mouth. Life was not paying me the least bit of atten-

tion. He walked over to the rug examining a cer tain spot in the

carpet. I thought I heard him mumble something about that bitch

beat me for my stash but by then, I was in his facing ranting about

how he tried me. Finally, I dug in my pocket. “I don’t need your

money either,” I said with more contempt than I actually felt. I

was just trying to strike a ner ve, you know how we sistas can do

so well. Life completely ignored me. There was no fight in his

eyes. Surprised the hell out of me. He just took the money from

my hand and tossed it on the dresser with his shoulders hunched

as he padded over to the bed and sat down running his fingers

across the waves in his head. “Hope could you please leave now?”

There wasn’t an iota of fight in his voice. I swallowed the dry lump

in my throat that gave birth to my emotions as I heard a fire truck

somewhere in the distance. This wasn’t what I expected, not from

him. I found myself lost for words. For some reason I thought

about the singer, Prince, and the song, “When Doves Cr y.” I won-

dered if thugs cry, too. I reached into my purse retrieving the two

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books that I told myself I was going to give him. Nandi gave them

to me when I was lost and searching for who I was. One of the

books was,

The Destruction of Black Civilization

by Chancellor

Williams and the other one was

Black, Single, Absolute and

Dangerous,

by M.

“
I was hoping you would call the station last night,” I said,

looking down at him, my voice resonating into a soft cadence that

moved me closer to him gnawing at his resistance. No response.

His eyes looked away from me, and I swear to God it looked like

that brotha was bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders.

I thought about what Nandi warned me about, being too pas-

sionate. I picked up my dejected emotions and carried them to the

door for the first time realizing that I felt something deep for this

brotha. I would have at least liked a good-bye kiss or a hug because

I knew that I would never be coming back.

“
Hope.” He called my name. It sounded sad coming from his

lips. I turned real slow as the light from the open door beamed in

his eyes and he squinted at me. “Thanks for the books Shouty, I’ll

read them. Um, do you know where Trina lives?” His question

caught me off guard. I’ll admit, I was tinged with a little jealousy

too.

“
I heard she lives somewhere near campus.” I wanted to ask

him what he wanted with Trina of all people. She was poison. Her

last boyfriend was doing time in the feds. I just shook my head

and walked out of the door as I heard him yell behind me,

“
Tomorrow I’ma go to the unemployment office.”

I walked to my car with a feeling of uneasiness. Maybe it was

guilt–there were all kinds of feelings going through my young

mind. I mostly wondered what Trina did to him. She must have

come back to his room. I thought I heard him mumble something

about his stash. He sure did not argue about taking that money

back. It was almost as if he needed it.

What a shame that a brotha

could be so fine and sexy and be our people’s worst enemy

, I thought.

*****

As scheduled I drove to the Tallahassee Children’s Hospital to

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meet with Nandi to work with the children. I became attached to

a special little girl that I really tried to give my attention to. She

was 7 years old and over 90 percent of her body had been severe-

ly burned. Her mother, father and three younger brothers all died

on Christmas Day due to a fire that started from a electric heater

that malfunctioned. The little girl was a mask of gor y pain. She

had no relatives and already experienced over twenty skin grafts,

and was scheduled for dozens more. The first day I met her, she

held my hand while I read her stories. When it was time for me to

leave she would not let my hand go. The next day, I cried for the

world, and for the first time, I questioned my God. Nandi apolo-

gized, but she could not go anywhere near that little girl. The hor-

rible sight of her charred body was hard to grasp, even for the

nurses. Afterward, it made us feel good helping mostly impover-

ished Black children that were abandoned and neglected by their

families.

*****

The days quickly turned to weeks and with it came the reality

that I missed my period, which wasn’t unusual because it had been

late before; however, on the second week, I sent out a search party

lookin’ for it. I went to Walgreen’s and bought one of them little

test kits, you know the ones where you wait for the color to change

to see if you are pregnant. School was in full blast. My roommate

primped for hours in front of the mirror getting dressed to go to

a club called The Moon. It was a hot popular spot where the

young folks hung out on the weekends. A rap group called Poison

Clan and J.T. Money were performing. I watched as Shanana got

dressed hoping that she would hurry up and leave. The anticipa-

tion of taking the pregnancy test was burning me up inside.

Shanana put on a tiny outfit and high heels. For the life of me I

could not understand why some big people tried to wear clothes

that they knew were too damn small for them.

“
How do I look in this?” Shanana asked, as she paraded in

front of me with one of her stomachs protruding over the other.

She looked like a Black version of Ms. Piggy. However, Shanana

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was blessed with a congenial personality, the kind that could wring

the last smile from your lips on your worst day. I just shrugged my

shoulders, nodding my head as if to say, no comment. Shanana

already knew how I felt about her hoochie mama dress code.

Determined not to have her jovial spirits dampened, animated as

usual she responded, hands on hips, “Big girls need love too,” she

said flippantly, and at the same time, she turned around and toot-

ed her butt up in the air and strutted out of the door. I couldn’t

help but laugh at her antics as she bounced away on a mission. As

soon as she was gone, I tore into the box of the pregnancy test, my

hands trembling badly, my heart racing in my chest. When the

test showed the results, I could not believe it. The damn thing said

I was pregnant.

I was tempted to go to the store and buy another one, or bet-

ter yet, go see a doctor and let him charge me to tell me what I

already knew. I plunged down in my chair thinking this couldn’t

possibly be happening to me. Fucking men! Fucking Marcus! I

was tempted to call his sorr y ass and make him fork over the

money for an abortion. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” I exasperated, banging

my fists on the table. I was finally about to achieve my dream of

entering law school, now my life was r uined. I began to sob

uncontrollably. I thought about all the girls that I went to high

school with that had got knocked up and were shunned in a way

that society does when you’re a failure. I used to feel sorry for them

and in some strange way, it made me feel proud that I made the

right choices and never fell victim to the lures of the streets. When

I went home, all my family and friends often referred to me as

“
Hope, the future lawyer.” This reference made me hold my head

dignified. For a woman, especially a young Black woman, there

can be no other personal devastation than an unwanted pregnan-

cy, for it entails the complete solitude of misery and despair that

renders a woman powerless over her own body. The unwanted

burden of a life, God’s bliss to a woman, is often viewed as some

cruel evil curse bestowed upon her.

I had to get a grip on myself. I was a wreck. I got dressed in a

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daze without combing my hair and I meandered down the hall in