Under the Peach Tree (4 page)

Once Momma and Faith fell asleep, I snuck into Faith's room and took her dress. I slowly opened her window and climbed out of her room. I wanted her to think someone had snuck in and stolen it. Maybe I was wrong for doing it, but I felt they owed me that dress. I walked a few miles down the dark street until I saw headlights. Once the car was close enough, I started waving my arms.

The car slowed down beside me. A white man with half his teeth missing smiled at me. “What you doin' out here at one in the mornin'?”

“I got lost. I need a ride into the city,” I told him. “I got this expensive dress that I can give you, it's Vera Wang.”

“Hot diggity!” he exclaimed. “I'll ride you to the border and back for that dress. You got any idea how much that dress costs?”

I got into his car and set the dress on my lap. “I don't know and I don't care. It's yours.”

He smiled and sped off.

An hour later we were in the city. The bright lights shined beautifully in the night sky. I marveled out of the window as we passed houses and buildings. We were in the heart of city. People were still out, walking about as if it were still daytime. I noticed a line of people in skimpy clothes waiting to get inside of a club called Fire. I memorized everything about the building, hoping one day I'd be able to go to a place like that.

The man pulled up to the curb. “Where do you want me to take you?”

I thought about the bank John worked at and remembered him telling me it was the largest bank downtown. I turned to the old man. “Can you take me to National Bank? The big one downtown?”

“It's right around the corner,” he grunted, and pushed on the gas.

A few minutes later, we were sitting in front of a black skyscraper with a big sign that read N
ATIONAL
B
ANK.
I got out of the car and thanked the man. I watched as he drove off.

It was two in the morning and chilly out. I would have to wait outside the building all night until John came in to work. I had no plan. I remember thinking,
What will I say to him? Come home?
He probably would freak out before I got the chance to explain why I was there. I doubted it would change a thing.

I spent that whole night sitting by the building, wondering if my plan to get him home would work. Around five, I dozed off, but was quickly awakened when the first employee showed up to open the bank. It was a middle-aged Asian man with short black hair and a small frame. The man looked down at me with furrowed brows. “Did you sleep out here all night?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Does John Davis still work here?”

“He'll be in around ten. Are you his family?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Come inside, we'll get you something to drink. There's a lobby on the third floor. You can rest there until he comes in. I'll let him know you're up here as soon as he walks in.”

“Thanks.”

I found my way up to the lobby and nestled into a chair and dozed off. I dreamed about fame and fortune and everyone loving me. I dreamed of singing at Madison Square Garden in front of millions, hearing them chant my name. Yes, they'd all chant my name. They got louder, they kept chanting.

“Hope!” I was startled awake. John stood over me, looking ten years older from stress. “Hope, wake up! What are you doing here? Did something happen? Is your mom okay? Faith, is she—”

“She's fine, they're both fine.” I was so happy to see him. I immediately jumped into his arms, forcing him into a seat, crushing him. “John, I missed you. Come home!”

“Did you come all the way to my job to tell me this?”

“No.” I shook my head, remembering my lie. I worked up some fake tears and noticed how John's face softened. “We got robbed.” I shuddered. “Somebody snuck in Faith's room while she was sleeping and took some of her things. I heard them leave through her window and ran outside to see what was going on. The man had her new dress and so I tried to fight him but he grabbed me and threw me in his car. I was so scared, John!”

“How did you get away?”

“He rode into the city and kicked me out of his car and kept going. I was only a few blocks away from your job. I remembered you worked in the biggest bank downtown and asked some people for directions and I ended up here. John, we need you to come home!” I cried.

John nodded once and stood up. “Come on, I'm taking you home.”

John didn't say a word to me on the way home. I didn't expect him to. Most likely he was blaming himself for letting this happen. If he had been there, he would've killed the intruder and I'd still be safe at home. I hated that my lie was eating away at him, but I had no choice. I would do anything I needed to, to bring that little piece of happiness back into my life.

John pulled up in the driveway. Momma was already sitting out on the porch looking slightly worried. Her face hardened when she saw him. She noticed me in the passenger seat and stood up.

“Faith!” she called.

Faith came to the door as John and I got out of the car. Faith immediately ran down the steps and threw herself into my arms, crying. “Hope, I was so scared! My window was opened and my dress was missing and so were you!”

Momma walked to the edge of the porch with her arms folded. “Hope, what did you do with that girl's dress, and why did you bring him here?”

I looked to John for reassurance. I needed to know that he was there to help and protect me if things got ugly. He nodded, sending me a wave of encouragement.

“Momma, somebody came in through Faith's window and stole her dress. I heard them by my bedroom window and ran outside. I stopped him before he could come into my room but he snatched me up, rode into the city, and dumped me on the street!”

I expected my momma to react differently, but all she said was, “You dumber than you look, Hope. And that still don't explain why the hell this man is in my yard with that sad puppy face!”

“She came to my job, Juanita. She didn't have anywhere else to go,” John explained.

“She should've walked her black butt home!” Momma told him.

“Momma, this wouldn't have happened if John was still here!”

Momma lowered her eyes at me. “You think you slick, trying to make me feel guilty for kicking him out?”

I shook my head. “No, Momma. It's the truth. The man is supposed to be the protector.”

“Juanita, what if somebody would've killed Hope?” Momma frowned but didn't really seem affected by what John had said until he continued. “What if they would've killed Faith?”

Momma stepped back and looked at the both of us but her eyes lingered on Faith. Of course, Momma reacted like a mother when he mentioned Faith. John walked slowly toward my momma with his hands out, pleading. “I don't care if you don't ever want to touch me again, Juanita. But let's make it work for the kids. Let's think about them.” He was now standing directly in front of Momma. She thought for a moment and then nodded.

“Well heck. I s'pose you're right.” Momma finally smiled. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” John brought her into his arms.

My plan worked. I brought John back home and it was the happiest day of my life.

Things went back to how they were. It did take a few days for Momma's anger toward John to vanish, but once it did, she was singing around the house again. I loved her voice. It sounded a lot like mine when I would sing. Momma told me that when I was a little girl, I would sing so loud the neighborhood could hear me. And then she said I had a big mouth and that singing wasn't going to get me anywhere in life. She told me to keep my head in the books like Faith. Everything I did was compared to Faith.

“Why don't you be polite like Faith?”

“Faith is such a good girl, why can't you be like your sister?”

“Everyone says they love Faith. Why you gotta be so unlovable?”

“Faith looks just like an angel. You should look more like Faith.”

I spent many years wondering why I couldn't be like Faith. I used to follow her around the house trying to walk like she did. I watched the way her mouth moved when she talked. I tried to put my hair in buns like Faith did, but my hair wasn't long enough because it broke off from Momma's neglect. She never took care of my hair the way she did with Faith. Once when I was younger, I cut Faith's hair off when she was sleeping and put it on my hair. I finally had a bun. I ran out to Momma to show her what I did, to let her know that I was finally pretty, like Faith. I had never gotten beaten so badly in my life. Of course Faith's hair grew back, but my self-image never did.

One day, I decided to stop trying to be my perfect sister. I'd cringe anytime someone mentioned her name. I didn't want any comparison to her. I started to distance myself, barely saying a word, keeping myself locked up in my bedroom. I could tell that she was hurt by it, but I didn't care. I'd felt pain my whole life; she could handle it too. That's when Faith started to focus more and more on church. After school, she went to the middle school to go tutor for free. On Sundays, she'd stay longer at church to help out with whatever she could. When we did see each other, we barely spoke. When I distanced myself from her, it only hurt me worse. I thought being mean to her would satisfy me, but it only made me angrier. If John hadn't come into our lives, Lord knows what I would've done once I finally exploded.

I admired John. It was innocent. I'd sit in the kitchen and watch him make breakfast. I was fascinated whenever he shaved. I'd sit on the sink and watch in awe. One time, he took the shaving cream and squirted it all over my face. I retaliated by squirting toothpaste in his hair. Momma came barging into the bathroom when she heard all the ruckus. When she left, John and I cracked up and continued our bathroom war.

John was closer to me than he was with Faith, partly because I demanded all of his attention. Faith couldn't have him. He was mine. I was the one who brought him back after Momma broke up with him. Nobody else accomplished it. I was somewhat possessive over John. I had never known what it was like to have a father figure, to have a man tell me that he loved me. I bathed in the attention that he showed me. He was the only person who was able to brighten the dark spots in my life.

One night, I burst into Faith's room and locked the door behind me. I was bursting at the seams with excitement. I had talked to one of my male friends at school who said one of his cousins was having a house party in the city. Faith and I had never been to a house party before and I thought she'd be as thrilled as I was.

“House party?” Faith's mouth dropped open after I told her of my plans. “And in the city? No. There's gonna be a lot of crazy boys looking to prey on freshmen like us! No! I'm not going!”

“Stop being a Bible hugger and live for once.”

“I can breathe, I can eat, I can walk, I can see. That's living,” she said.

“Faith, we gonna be sixteen in a few days, let's party!”

“No.”

“Jesus went to parties.”

“Not the same kind of party you're talking about!” Faith screamed. She would get so angry whenever people were blasphemous. It made me laugh. “It's not funny.”

“Fine, Faith. Don't go. Waste away your life. Just tell Mom that I'm sick and not to bother me.”

“So you're still going?”

“Heck yeah, regardless. I have a ride. What can go wrong?”

Faith's face squinted up, which was what she did whenever battling a demon, as she called it. “Fine.”

“Fine, what?”

“I'll go. But only because I want to make sure you're okay.”

I jumped up and down in excitement.

Later that day, we pulled up to the party in a beat-down Cadillac that was two seconds from breaking down. It belonged to Mike, a friend of ours from school. He agreed to let us ride with him to the party. I got out of the car feeling sexy. I had tied my shirt in the back to show off my stomach. I drew a little heart just above my waistline. I cut some old, tight-fitting jeans into some booty shorts and cleaned my gym shoes until they looked brand new. Momma had bought a knock-off Chanel purse, and it hung from my shoulder. Faith, on the other hand, had on an unflattering, long flowered dress, no makeup, and a bun. She didn't look fit for a party.

I headed to the door with Faith trailing shyly behind me. A few girls were on the side of us, walking up to the party. They all had their noses turned up at me. It made me smile; it meant I was doing something right.

I walked into the party and was greeted by loud music blasting from the speakers. Two dozen people were crowded into the living room, dancing; a few couples leaned against the wall, talking or making out; and a bunch of boys were drinking liquor and partying in the kitchen. I decided that was where I wanted to be.

“I'm going to the kitchen. Just sit on the couch or something,” I yelled to Faith over the music. I watched her hesitantly walk over to the couch and sit by a couple making out. I wanted to laugh at her expression.

I headed for the kitchen, glowing with confidence. I was looking good, my weave was flowing down my back, and my butt looked even bigger in the tight shorts. I noticed every head that turned in my direction. It was me they were looking at, not Faith. Me.

“What's good, cutie?” one of the boys asked as I walked into the kitchen. He was the cutest one with long dreads and a bright grill. He looked like he had money. “What you drinkin' on?”

“Give me whatever you got.”

The guys laughed. “So if I give you one hundred proof liquor, you'd down it?”

I rolled my eyes. “Like I said, I'll drink whatever you got.”

He smiled. “I like you already, sexy.” He poured me a shot of liquor. “Drink up.”

I took the glass from his hands and swallowed the liquor. I tried my hardest not to make a face as it burned down my throat. I slammed the shot down on the countertop. “Give me another one.”

His eyes widened as if impressed and gave his friends a look. “Shorty mean!”

“Ay, and she got a fatty!” one of the ugly ones called from behind me. I smiled and turned around for him to see.

“Dang, they don't breed 'em like this except down South. Thin waist, big butt, long hair . . . And I don't care if it's weave! I bet I'll still pull on it,” he said to his friends, who agreed in unison. He handed me my second shot.

I stared deeply into his dark eyes and slowly raised the shot glass to my lips. I wanted to play with him, keep him watching my every move, make him want me. He licked his lips and the liquor went down. I looked around, noticing that they were all looking at me like they wanted to devour me. It made me feel so good.

“Oh!” I said, recognizing the song that came on. “This is my jam! Come dance with me!” I grabbed his hand and pulled him into the living room. I noticed I was slightly off balance, but I felt good inside. I had no worries.

I started grinding on him slowly and built my way up into the beat. I grabbed his arms and wrapped them around my waist. I glanced over at Faith; her look was of pure disapproval, which was normal for her. Nothing I did was up to her “Christian” expectations. But I didn't live to please her or my mother at that time, and especially not God. It was finally my time to feel happy.

I turned around to face the boy with a smile. “You want a private dance?” I asked.

“Yeah, we can go to my room.”

“You live here?” I asked, surprised. He only nodded and quickly pulled me along. I didn't look to see Faith's expression; I already knew. Another disappointment.

We kissed on the way up the stairs, tugging at each other's clothing, me moving away and laughing whenever he tried to take anything off. He kicked open his bedroom door and cut the light on. His room was simple, but it matched his personality. He had a king-sized bed with red silk sheets and a few posters of rappers on either wall. He walked over to his bed and sat down, watching my every move. He didn't have to say a word for me to know what he wanted. I shut the door behind me and began to dance.

“Naw, don't dance. Come here.”

“But I thought you wanted a dance.”

“Just come here,” he said, and I obeyed. I took a seat next to him, suddenly feeling very conscious of myself. It was the first time that I was alone in a room with a boy.

He put his hands on my leg and slowly started trailing circles up my thigh. I shifted and grabbed his hand and kissed it. I didn't want him touching me in that way. I thought he only wanted a dance. Suddenly, he pushed me back on the bed and climbed on top of me. He was careful not to crush me with his weight.

“How old are you?” he asked.

I could've lied, but I didn't want to. Not in such a heavy situation in which I had no experience. I said, “Fifteen.”

He smiled and started kissing my neck. “Old enough. You a virgin?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to push him off of me. I wasn't ready for what he had in mind. The room started spinning around me. I tried to focus on the ceiling above, but I couldn't. My stomach started turning. I was going to be sick. “Move.”

“Naw,” he said, pushing down on me. He started unbuckling his pants and parted my legs. His hands found my zipper and he began tugging at it.

“Please.” I covered my mouth. I couldn't hold it down and I didn't want to be in this situation. It was going too far. I wasn't ready. Stupid of me to go into a room with a boy and think the only thing he wanted was a dance.

“I said no!”

He slid his hands inside of my shorts. I tried to move his hands, but he was too strong. He slid my shorts down to my knees.

“Stop!” I closed my eyes. I felt the vomit come up my throat and I threw up, spitting bile all over the place.

“Did you just throw up on me?” he asked incredulously.

My eyes focused on him, watching as he jumped off the bed covered in my vomit. He took his shirt off, threw it on the ground, and ran into his bathroom. I didn't feel bad; in fact, I laughed all the way to his bedroom door and stumbled to the stairs. I heard shouting below and the music abruptly stopped.

“Police!”

I silently cursed and stumbled down the stairs. All around me was chaos. The front door was busted open. A few police men were standing around, checking cups for alcohol, trying to catch drunken kids, assessing the situation. Half of the house had emptied through the back door and a few kids were still running around, trying to find their friends.

Faith.

My heart dropped.
Where did she go?
I hit the last step and started to panic. I had a few seconds to grab her before the police got me. I ran to the bathroom, which was empty. I looked in the kitchen, but a police officer was standing in there, testing the punch. He turned around and saw me standing there. I quickly ran away.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Get back here!”

It was too late.
Faith must've run outside with the rest of the kids.
I needed to find her. I felt so regretful, wishing I hadn't dragged her out here. She hadn't wanted to come. It was all my fault. I ran out the back door, looking for my twin, and ran into a few girls walking away from the party. I stopped them as they were getting into their car.

“Hey, y'all seen a light-skinned chick with a long flowered dress?” They shook their heads and got into the car. Felling hopeless, I ran up to a boy with a red afro. “You seen a light-skinned girl with a flowered dress?” He shook his head no too. I walked around to the front of the house. A few police officers were standing on the porch; one had a dark-skinned boy in handcuffs, escorting him to one of the three police cars. Another police officer stood on the side of the first car, pushing a girl inside. I studied the floral print dress she wore. It was the same as Faith's. My heart stopped.

I ran closer, but stayed far enough away so that I could run if the police tried to question me. I waited for the officer to move away from her door and walk to the driver's side, but even then her face was turned away. I prayed like crazy, hoping that it wasn't Faith. It couldn't be. It wasn't her fault, she hadn't drunk anything, and she'd just sat there all innocent.

“God, she's a good girl, please don't let it be her,” I prayed, but even if it wasn't, then where was she? The police car roared to life and pulled off, but just before it drove out of view, I saw the most delicate face turn toward the window. I couldn't believe my eyes.

They had Faith.

 

 

It took four hours to walk home. Four long, arduous hours. I spent the time crying and praying, and when I wasn't crying or praying, I was running through all of the things that could've happened to her. Maybe they took her to prison where she'd have to fight to keep her goodies away from raging lesbian prisoners. Maybe she escaped from the police car and ran for it. Maybe they took her to jail and Momma would have to bail her out. Or maybe it wasn't Faith. Maybe someone else had that same hideous dress and looked similar. Regardless of what happened, I was a dead girl walking.