Right Before My Eyes

by Michelle Robinson

  Right Before

  My Eyes

  Michelle Robinson

  AuthorHouse™

  1663 Liberty Drive

  Bloomington, IN 47403

  www.authorhouse.com

  Phone: 1-800-839-8640

  © 2012 by Michelle Robinson. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

  Published by AuthorHouse 07/31/2012

  ISBN: 978-1-4634-3033-7 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4634-3034-4 (e)

  Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

  Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  This book is dedicated to YOU!

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Acknowledgements

  First, I give all praises to God for seeing me through the completion of this book and also blessing me with the gift to write. Thanks mommy for always believing in me and supporting my dreams. Pop, I wish you were here to see this, but I still can hear your voice coming from the clouds. This book was encouraged by two individuals that told me I need to write a book on the same day! So thanks to one of my clients, Heather Gersh and one of my BFF’s, Reggie Matthews for giving me the courage to begin writing. Another thanks to Reggie Matthews for lending your ears when I needed your input, your brain is amazing. Thanks to my other BFF, Shalonda Anderson for being there to read a paragraph, proofread it or just listen. You have such a caring spirit and I thank you for always going the distance with me. Thanks to all of my clients that got a chance to read the first 3 chapters of the book when I was trying to see if I could do this. Y’all gave me the go ahead. Thanks for your enthusiasm, laughter, and giggles. I want to thank my neighbor who was the only person who read the completion of my book. Damier Xandrine I’m glad all of your feedback was wonderful. I was nervous to hear what you had to say. I want to thank authors and my fellow friends Anita Payne, Andretta Greer and Olayinka Aikens. I appreciate your support, knowledge and all of your advice ladies. Andretta, you are a great mentor, thank you for coming to my every beck and call and thanks for all the lunches, dinners and seminars we’ve shared. I want to thank my cousin Deandre Lemon-Hooker for encouraging me to keep writing and not to give up when I wanted to so badly. Special shout out to another cousin, Andrey Lemon-Pryor for enlightening me and making my story much richer with your details. I want to thank the staff at The Al Dro Show for letting me grace your mics and advertise my book for FREE! All love to you Al Dro and The Peanut Gallery. Hey Nutz!!! Thanks to Tyora Moody of Tywebbin Creations for your gift and talents with my book cover. Thanks for advising me not to settle. So glad I listened to you girl. Chris Guthrie of Red Pen, thanks for working on my edits and falling in love with the story. The back and forth drove me crazy. If there are any errors left in this book, it’s your fault! Daniel Spikes of Visual Knock Outs, thank you for rescuing my dream the night before and making it a reality in less than an hour. Special thanks to the models on the cover, Chaundra Dixon, for your first modeling gig, you nailed it. Je’Nein White and Geormel Benson, I thank you for making the images of the story come to life. The three of you made my vision picture perfect! Special shout out to all my family and friends (you know who you are) who thought they needed a role in my book or threatened me because they thought this story would be about them, you wish! To all of my readers, I am grateful.

  Chapter 1

  ALRIGHT

  I can’t believe it… and don’t get none of this twisted with the Lil Wayne and T-Pain song. I couldn’t believe how things changed on such a lovely and warm sunny mid-May morning—Saturday to be exact. I was feeling wonderfully blessed. My day was full. I had a girlfriend’s brunch to go to with Chelsea. It was given by the Women’s Department at her church, Acts Full Gospel. After that, it was Kalena’s graduation from Holy Names College that afternoon. I lay in the bed with my blackberry in hand checking my Facebook page. I called my cell my “crackberry”.

  After I updated my status, letting all 281 of my friends know what I was doing for the day, it read, Journee “Nee” Faith Bell is looking forward to this blessed day of fellowship and celebrations. Congratulations Kalena, you “smart” diva.

  I checked out what everyone’s status read.

  Nothing too exciting. People were either complaining about how hot it was going to be or praising the Lord for their blessings. I could always find some encouraging words from my Facebook friends. That was when I remembered that I put my crackberry before my daily prayer. Lord, forgive me.

  I jumped up and starting praying on my way to the shower, thanking God for another day and asking Him to protect me. Then I prayed for everyone else like I always do. I was fresh out of the shower and listening to the quiet storm, 102.9 FM KBLX, and Sterling James was announcing the next song. It was Oakland’s own, Ledisi.

  I loved her new hit song Alright. I turned my Bose speakers up just a little trying to get my groove on. I didn’t know, but it was something about being clean and butt naked that just made me wanna dance; especially, when I got the house to myself.

  My male best friend, Derrick, moved in after his divorce and was the best roommate a sista could ask for. He was rarely here, knew how to fix things around the house, and gave that good manly advice.

  Derrick must have spent the night at one of his many chicks’ house. I told him about that. I said, “if you are just having a fling, don’t spend the night ’cause when the two of you finish up, one falls asleep and the other one falls in love.”

  I had just got off the phone chopping it up with mama. My parents were doing fine. My pop and twin sister, Jordyn, went fishing last night and mama was lounging, getting ready to watch The Cosby Show marathon. Jordyn and I bought her the whole eight seasons on DVD for her birthday last year and we hadn’t seen her since. Pops didn’t mind. He enjoyed watching the Huxtables with her. Calling to check in with my parents was the first thing I did on Saturday mornings.

  Ok, the second thing, since I joined Facebook. Checking on my parents determined how I was going to be doing that weekend.

  I was two-stepping and shaking my naked behind all the way into m
y walk-in closet to pick the right outfit for the day. A chocolate and turquoise sleeveless dress was my choice. It had jewels on the V-neck so I didn’t need to pick out a necklace for today. Even though I bought a new turquoise necklace from Macy’s the other day. I picked out my turquoise chandelier earrings and two albacore bracelets in two different shades of turquoise. One was darker than the other so they both served a purpose. I then paired my “Ross Special” dress with my Marc Fisher turquoise and brown strap-up sandals. These sandals made my French tip pedi pop.

  I reached for my turquoise satin clutch purse when the house phone rang. I wasn’t in any rush to answer it, because I didn’t have message center, so I didn’t have to catch the phone before the fourth or fifth ring. I picked up the phone and looked at the caller I.D.

  It said GTL, then the number displayed started with the 707 area code.

  I never looked at the telephone number because it was not like if I dialed the number, he was gonna ever answer my call. It was my baby! My heart rate just went up and I was feeling all girly inside! Maybe we could have some phone sex before I left. I could surprise him with my moans and groans as soon as the call connected. I pressed talk to hear the male voice recorder that I’d been hearing for the last 12 years:

  “This is GlobalTel Link, this call and your telephone number will be recorded and monitored. I have a collect call from Drew, an inmate at the California State Prison Solano in Vacaville California. To accept this call dial or say five and hold.”

  Drew switched his greetings up so much, sometimes he would say “Daddy” or “Drew” or “Hey baby, what’s up?” or “Baby, I’ve been missing you.” So hearing just “Drew” didn’t spark my attention that something was wrong. I pressed the number five, and we were connected. There was always a beep in the background just so you knew that the conversation was being recorded and someone was listening.

  I answered as I took a deep breath, “hey baby,” in my seductive voice, trying to spark his flame. It was something that was easy to do.

  I was only greeted with his angry voice. It was deeper and slower than normal.

  “What?” he asked.

  “What?” I said. “I told you to call me earlier in the morning ’cause I had to be at the dentist at 9:00 am!”

  “Naw, fuck that!” he snapped. “I’m tired of you, bitch. You think I’m one of them punk-ass niccas you fuck with out there? I’m from the streets and I ain’t stupid. You was probably fucking some dude when I called and couldn’t answer. I’m not fuckin’ wit you no more, Nee!”

  His words after “naw, fuck that” ripped through me like someone stabbing me with a long sharp knife. That’s when my life just changed right before my eyes.

  Drew was my first love. We had been in love ever since June of 1991. Even though he was serving time in jail, it had been almost 12 years. He got caught up in a crazy drug bust that he had nothing to do with ’cause he didn’t sell drugs. Someone lied on him and planted drugs and guns in his car at his parents’ house to protect themselves, so he pretty much got framed for it. His sentence was 15 years to life. But I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone else.

  Well, until I met Jason Moses Smith.

  I had been Drew’s ride-or-die chick since we met at the top of Najah’s porch a week after she and I graduated from Bret Harte Jr. High. She was french-braiding my hair, using the white and clear bone beads with the foil on the ends. I’d always had long, thick, coal-black hair, so it was going to take all day to get my hair braided. We were sitting at the top of the stairs, trying to keep out of the direct sunlight. It was a hot and sunny day, and actually pretty peaceful at Najah’s house because her parents were at work. Her dad was a loud drunk, and her mama spent all her nights trying to calm him down. Poor Mrs. Joseph. Najah didn’t have a boom box to put on the porch like some of us black folks did, so we jammed to the current videos on channel 37.

  SoulBeat was Oakland’s only network channel, owned by Chuck Johnson. They played more commercials than anything,just the same commercials over and over again:

  Family Cleaners located on High Street, the Video Network and New Revelations inside of Foothill Square Mall, the Real McCoy’s BBQ joint on Foothill Blvd., Moler’s Barber College over there by MacArthur-Broadway Mall, and Golden Touch Beauty Salon on 73rd Avenue.

  We would run in the house to see a video if we hadn’t seen it before. Well, me, that is, because we didn’t have cable in the Bell household. The rotation was: Cameo’s Candy (Larry Blackmon and that red dick-cup thing was a little bizarre for a 15-year-old to watch), LL Cool J’s I’m Bad, Whodini’s One Love (we would have to stop doing my hair to do the dance steps to that song and sing it in unison: One love, one love, ya lucky just to have just one love); but when Janet Jackson’s Pleasure Principle video came on, I sat down on the living room couch and watched her dance. She was wearing black Guess? jeans and dancing with a chair. It was amazing choreography. This video instantly became my favorite. Janet Jackson was just grooving and I was feeling what she was feeling. Simple dance steps but fierce and powerful in every way. Her hair was banging too.

  After hours and hours, I was just sitting on the porch surrendering my hair to Najah, trying to get through my first braiding experience. But what do two fifteen-year-olds have better to do?

  We were laughing and talking when two guys came around the corner walked towards us carrying Jack ‘n the Box bags. Najah told me who they are, and I quickly remembered her talking about them and how crazy they were, so I was excited to meet them. She always talked about the butt on Andrew, how big and round it was. They were some of the teenage boys in her neighborhood. They lived on the same block, just a couple houses down on 84th Avenue. Both were tall and dark. One was smiling so hard you could count all his teeth.

  His name was Andrew Lee Mills. He was the one Najah talked about a lot. They had that playful, brother and sister relationship. The other one’s name was Kevin Scott.

  Andrew approached me and I started smiling. He was smiling, and so was Cupid. After Najah introduced us, he pulled me over to the side and we talked a little.

  I was so shy about talking to him with my hair all over the place. He understood and said he liked my smile and my braces too. I thanked him and quickly told him that my braces were coming off in four months. He asked for my number and went on up the street towards Plymouth Avenue. I liked him.

  He was 16 years old, and 6-foot-3 with smooth dark skin. He wore a fade haircut and was as cute as he wanted to be. He wore a blue, red and white Fila sweatsuit and blue and matching red Fila tennis shoes. He had the build of a basketball player and his butt was nice and round. He had confidence and bedroom eyes. His eyebrows had a perfect arch and his teeth were white.

  To me, he was perfect.

  Later on, my Pop and Jordyn picked me up from Najah’s when my hair was finished. He liked my braids a lot.

  “Is that aluminum foil on the ends?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Pop laughed. “Foil is more useful than I thought.”

  Pop and I were hungry and Najah’s Mama didn’t cook, so all of us stopped at Lake Merritt Bakery for some of that good ole fried chicken. Jordyn ordered a grilled cheese sandwich with fries and the apple pie a la mode.

  When we finally got home late that night, Mama told me that Andrew called twice. I was blushing and she was asking questions.

  “How old is he? Where did you meet him? Who is he?

  Who are his parents? What does he look like?” Mama raised us to be like, “don’t call the boy, let him call you.”

  I had to wait for his call.

  He called the next afternoon. He apologized for calling twice the night before, because he didn’t realize that it took a long time to get your hair braided.

  We would talk for hours at a time, or until one of our family members needed to use the p
hone. He would get to come over and visit me as long as somebody was home.

  We had to sit in the living room and watch TV.

  We got our privacy though, ’cause I used to have monkey bites all the time. Jordyn and I kept a spoon hidden in the freezer. That was the best way to get rid of a hickey.

  Mama would let him stay for dinner and he would go to church with us too.

  Then it was a Friday night. He was about to go to church with his family and I was also. He asked me to be his girlfriend, and to hurry up and answer because his parents were ready and waiting in the car for him.

  “Journee, will you go with me. Please?”

  All I could do was laugh, and he asked again and again. I ended up saying, “yes!” I was flattered and excited all at the same time.

  August 2, 1991 was our anniversary.

  That summer was fun too. Love was in the air. Come September I was entering my sophomore year at Oakland High School and he was going into his junior year at Castlemont High School. He would come to my school dances and games.

  I remember when we got in trouble for dancing too close to Hi-Five’s I Like The Way (The Kissing Game).