Girls From da Hood 9

by Amaleka McCall

  I was the complete opposite of Carlene. My skin was what Nana’s old lady friends called “creamy caramel, almost yella.” My hair was spongy, thick, but soft and would curl nicely with just a little bit of water and grease. It wasn’t real long, but it was “a good grade,” according to Nana. My eyes, Nana said, “is the only thing you got from that damn Carlene.” My eyes were beady and kind of close together: the one thing that linked me to Carlene and also the one thing about my face I always hated.

  The trouble started on my eighth birthday. I was flitting around the apartment Nana and I shared, waiting for my party guests to arrive. I had poked at my Cinderella cake four times already. “Kelsi, by the time the people get here that cake is gonna be poked full of holes.” Nana laughed. I still don’t know how Nana always knew everything. Maybe parents do have eyes in the back of their heads.

  Everyone began arriving at the party around three o’clock; why I remember that time I don’t know. I got so many compliments on the pink lace dress Nana had gotten me. I whirled around and around, like I was Cinderella.

  “Let’s sing ‘Happy Birthday’!” Nana announced about two hours into the party. Everyone crowded around as I kneeled on one of the kitchen chairs, with the cake in front of me.

  “Light the candles!” someone yelled.

  “Hold on, let me get a match,” Nana said, shuffling toward her bedroom. She always hid matches from me. “Just for your safety,” she’d explain. As Nana looked for the matches, there was a loud knock on the door.

  “I’ll get it!” Nana’s friend Ms. Bessie screamed. When she pulled back the door Carlene waltzed into our apartment like it was her birthright to be there.

  She came in like a gust of cold air. The kind that took your breath away in the winter and made tears drain from the corners of your eyes. Carlene’s clear plastic platform heels clicked against the ceramic floor tiles like firecrackers popping. I can remember it like it was yesterday. Her skin gleamed with Vaseline, shining like thick, freshly poured molasses, and her newly pressed hair was pulled into a greasy ponytail with baby hair lying flat with small dips in it around the sides of her head.

  I was in awe of her. Carlene was always like a purple, sparkly unicorn to me or like a rainbow with gold at the end of it. Magical, yet unreal. I eyed her that day in amazement. I wished I had a sparkly, tight red dress like hers. I remember running my hands down my flat chest, wishing I had a set of knockers sitting up under my chin like Carlene did. To me, she looked like a movie star. The skimpy dress showed off much more than it covered, barely coming fully under her ample behind. I smiled at her. I wanted her to smile back at me.

  She never did.

  Carlene’s eyes were dull. All of that sparkle was in her clothes, but none showed in her eyes. I had not seen her in a year and was kind of glad she had come to my birthday party. Nana, on the other hand, wasn’t as happy to see Carlene. At some point, Nana had emerged from the back of the apartment with the matches. Nana’s face had folded in on itself and her eyes hooded over. Nana’s dislike of Carlene could not be contained. Her feelings of disdain were like those trick cans filled with rubber snakes: no matter how many times you closed the lid, it popped right open, letting the snakes jump out at you.

  “Why you coming up in here looking like a whore?” Nana whispered harshly in Carlene’s ear, trying to keep the partygoers from overhearing. “You ain’t got no better clothes than streetwalker clothes?”

  Carlene sucked her teeth and smirked evilly. “No matter what you say you can’t blow my high t’day. It’s my child’s birthday and I came to celebrate,” Carlene trumpeted; then she took a long drag on her Newport. Carlene walked over to the table, flicked her lighter, and lit all eight of my candles.

  Nana dropped her matches on the counter and folded her arms. The singing ensued, but Nana never opened her mouth. I was the only one who could see worry and fear creasing Nana’s perfect face.

  “Now make a wish, big girl,” Carlene sang, cutting her eyes at Nana. Nana stood off in the background, scowling; her jawed rocked feverishly.

  I stood in front of my cake and with my eyes shut real tight I made the same wish I had made year after year since I could understand what wishes were. I would come to understand the meaning of one of Nana’s favorite sayings: “Be careful what you wish for. God don’t answer wishes, and fairies who answer wishes are the devil in disguise.”

  That night, when everyone left, I wondered why Carlene was still there, and so did Nana. Nana and Carlene weren’t like the mothers and daughters you saw on TV. There would be no long talks, laughter, and trips to the mall together. I could tell Nana was agitated; she’d smoked a half a pack of Pall Malls in a matter of a few hours. I just sat in silence, playing with my new birthday gifts and stealing glances at my biological mother, who I didn’t even really know. Carlene tried to make small talk with Nana, but it didn’t work. Nana treated Carlene worse than she treated Ms. Ollie Mae, a nosey, gossipy lady at our church. Now that was bad, because Nana couldn’t stand Ms. Ollie Mae.

  Finally, Carlene had given up trying to make small talk with her mother. It got quiet for a little while—too quiet, if you asked me. Then, Carlene let out a long sigh, like air escaping a hole in a tire. She stood up and smoothed her dress down over her big butt. She interrupted the eerie silence by dropping a bomb on us. Carlene could’ve blown up Pearl Harbor with her announcement. Smacking her shiny, lip-glossy lips, Carlene used her inch-long red-painted thumbnail to flick something from under her equally long pointer nail and calmly said, “I wanted y’all to know that I’m gettin’ married and I’m coming to get Kelsi when I do. We gon’ start living like a family. She gon’ have what I didn’t have . . . a mother and a father.” Carlene put the emphasis on “mother” and “father.”

  As young as I was, I remember feeling like bombs had exploded around me. My ears rang and my stomach knotted up immediately. I clenched my butt cheeks together to keep from shitting on myself. The floor even started shaking underneath me.

  Nana jumped up, ready for battle. Nana’s face was crumpled like one of those devil masks you see in the costume store at Halloween time. She moved in on Carlene like a lion about to take down a fine, sleek gazelle. Nana jutted a finger toward Carlene’s face. “You ain’t takin’ this child nowhere! This here is my baby! You don’t even have a damn place to live. Look at you! All shiny and bright to cover up the dirt and filth that lives in your soul. You ain’t interested in being no mother to nobody. Pushing one out don’t automatically make you the momma. You ain’t interested in being a mother or decent woman, period!” Nana accused cruelly, her pecan face turning dark as it filled with blood.

  I kind of felt bad for Carlene. She looked like Nana had slapped her in the face and kicked her in the gut with those words. I could see Carlene’s neck moving as she swallowed a few times. She inhaled until her chest swelled. Then, Carlene bounced back quick, like she was used to Nana saying stuff like that to her. She raised one side of her mouth into an evil smirk. Her eyes went into slits and she started circling Nana, as if to say she wasn’t backing down.

  Carlene’s heels clacked against the floor each time she said a word. “Let me tell you something.” Clack. “Your insults don’t work on me no more.” Click. “I ain’t a young, dumb kid who cares about what you think of me no more.” Clack. “Let’s not talk about who ain’t fit to be a mother . . . Mother!” Click. Carlene stopped moving.

  I guessed she was going in for the kill and wanted to stand her ground.

  “You always trying to put me down in front of my child! I got a place to live, I’m getting married, and I’m taking my child with me! Ain’t no courts ever gave you that baby. She’s mine and you ain’t using her to get no second chances in life. You had your chance to be a mother and you failed! You a failure just like the failure you raised!” Carlene spat, rushing over and getting close up in Nana’s face.

  Both of them seemed to be on the brink of hysterics. They stood toe-to-toe, eye to eye. I
was hoping no one threw a punch. The tension swirling around the apartment was so thick I could’ve sworn I saw it circling red over the entire place. I continued to twirl the Cinderella figurine from my cake, my little fingers shaking as I tried to act like nothing was happening. But my thundering heart and flaring nostrils probably gave me away. My birthday dress suddenly felt scratchy and too tight against my skin. That was the first time I remember feeling afraid. Not scary-movie afraid, but deathly afraid, like something real bad was going to happen. The kind of fear that knots up your insides so bad you feel like pissing, shitting, and vomiting all at once. There was no more discussion about it that night. Nana and I thought nothing of it after Carlene left. Thought nothing of it, until the day Carlene came back to get me.

  “No! I don’t wanna go! Please!” I screamed through tears, holding on to my Nana’s waist as tight as my little arms could grasp. I locked my fingers behind Nana’s back to make my grip even better. The spot where I buried my face was wet with my tears and snot.

  “You are my child and you are going where I go!” Carlene screamed, grabbing me roughly around my ribcage, tugging me toward her. I felt like my shoulders would pop out of the sockets from me holding on so tight.

  “Please, Carlene! I’ll do anything; just let her stay. Ain’t no reason for you to take her now. She being raised right here with me. Don’t be hateful; please leave this baby be, Carlene, just leave her be,” Nana sobbed, holding on to me equally as tight. She wasn’t going to let Carlene take me. I was sure of that, but I still held on as tight as I could.

  “Don’t make me call the police on you, lady! I did it once and I’ll do it again!” Carlene warned, her voice a high-pitched screech that made the insides of my ears itch. “You making this harder than it gotta be. A child needs to be with the mother who gave birth to ’em. Not a pretender looking for second chances because they couldn’t do it right with their own child they gave birth to. I’m telling you, I’m gonna call the damn cops!”

  “You gon’ have to call them cops tonight or kill me one, ’cause you ain’t takin’ this child from here unless it’s over my dead body!” Nana announced firmly.

  She wasn’t letting go and neither was I. I just knew that would do it. Carlene didn’t look like the type who was into having contact with the cops. She wasn’t going to call no cops. Carlene tugged on my waist again and I felt like I was losing my grip. The bones in my fingers started cracking as I tried in vain to keep them locked together.

  “Please! Nana, don’t let them take me!” I screeched. I could feel my throat burning as I screamed as loud as I could. The salt from my tears was bitter on my tongue.

  “Come on! Let go!” Carlene huffed, pulling some more. “She ain’t none of your momma! I pushed you out into this world and if I want you with me then you gon’ be with me!”

  I buried my face deeper. I held my breath. I would have rather died from not breathing than go with Carlene.

  “Miss, we gotta go. Why don’t you just let Peaches take her child?” Carlene’s new husband said calmly, his voice an even baritone.

  I buried my face deeper into Nana’s soft stomach when I heard his voice. I had forgotten that the scary-looking man had come there with Carlene.

  “Fuck you and your Peaches! I raised this child. The momma didn’t want her! Did your new wife tell you that? Did she tell you she ain’t interested in being nobody’s momma? Did she tell you she ain’t nothing but a two-bit whore?” Nana screamed through tears.

  I couldn’t ever remember seeing Nana cry before then. I was still holding on so tight I could hear Nana’s heart racing in my ear.

  “Two-bit whore? Two-bit whore? If I’m a two-bit whore I was taught by the best!” Carlene hissed at Nana.

  “Please! Carlene, let me stay! I’ll call you Mommy from now on when you come; just please let me stay with my Nana!” I cried some more. The kind of pain I was experiencing felt like someone was dying in my arms. Every muscle in my body ached and my head was pounding. Just the thought of leaving Nana had me gagging on my tears and snot.

  “You ain’t gotta call me Mommy when I come, because you coming with me now!” Carlene screamed, her voice cracking.

  I could tell she was hurt, maybe even a little embarrassed. Now that I think about it, maybe she felt betrayed by me, her only child, who was acting like she was the Grim Reaper coming to take me to hell.

  “I believe the child’s mother said to let her go, old lady,” Carlene’s husband growled loudly.

  Next, I heard a click. When I looked up to Nana’s face, I saw the end of a black gun resting on Nana’s forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face deeper into Nana’s stomach. I inhaled her scent. Maybe something in my little mind told me this was final. Dear God, please don’t let them take me. I will always put my money in the offering at church from now on. I will not steal Nana’s butterscotch candies anymore when she’s sleeping. Please don’t let them take me. I said a quick, silent prayer. It wasn’t enough.

  The man lifted his gun and brought it down on Nana’s head. I heard something crack. Then I felt something dripping on the top of my head.

  “Oh, Lord!” Nana shrieked at first.

  “Aggh! Nana!” I screamed too. We were moving all of a sudden. “God forgive them,” Nana whispered as her body folded to the floor. She involuntarily released her grip on me as she went limp.

  “Nana, wake up! You can’t let them take me!” I still held on to Nana as tight as I could, but I was no match for the man’s huge wrestler’s arms. He swept me off my feet in one swift motion and carried me kicking and screaming to his rusty, old white ragtop Cadillac sedan DeVille.

  He threw me into the back seat roughly and slammed the door. Then, Took, my mother’s husband, walked calmly to the driver’s seat and cranked the car up. I remember that the pungent smell of gasoline that engulfed the car made me dizzy. By the time I scrambled up from the seat, I saw Nana stumbling out of the building. She was going to fight for me. No gun butt was going to keep my Nana from fighting for me. I looked out of the dirty car window at my Nana, who was running beside the car with blood leaking from her head, as Took pulled away from the curb. Nana’s face was covered with blood as she cried and screamed my name.

  “Kelsi! Kelsi! My baby!” she screamed.

  “Nana! Nana! Don’t let them take me!” I belted out, putting my hands up against the glass. She couldn’t keep up. At first, I sat and watched Nana from the window, but eventually I had to get on my knees to see her. The farther we drove, the smaller Nana got. I could hardly see her anymore. Suddenly Nana’s silhouette just disappeared into the distance. I never saw my Nana alive again. I had lost the only person who’d ever really loved me.

  Chapter 3

  I had never been out of the Bronx in my life before Carlene and Took snatched me from Nana. I cried for the entire ride. Sitting on the hot, busted-up leather of Took’s car, I could hardly breathe from the wind blowing in my face. Tears and snot were everywhere. I had white dried and crusted streaks extending from the corners of my eyes like war paint and running down my cheeks like the makeup on a sad clown. I continued to bawl out of control. I didn’t care; I wanted my Nana. A few times during the eternity-long ride, Took turned his pale face around toward me and screamed, “Shut the fuck up, kid!” I had never seen anyone who looked like Took. His skin was so white it was almost transparent. His hair was thick and nappy, but it was a golden, brassy blond like it belonged on the head of a white person. Took’s eyeballs were red with a black center. I pondered his features as I cried. I thought only white people had blond hair and pinky, whitish skin. At first, I thought Took was white, but his huge flat nose and nappy-ass hair quickly changed my mind. Anyone with red eyeballs had to be the devil, I surmised, but as I grew up I found out he was just what I heard people call albino.

  I could smell the difference in the air between the Bronx and Brooklyn as soon as we crossed the bridge. I put my arm over my nose. The funny smell made me want to throw up. I
t was like the ocean mixed with garbage . . . Yeah, that was the best I could describe it. Brooklyn was flat compared to the hills I was used to in the Bronx. I hated Brooklyn already, no hills to ride my bike down. No bike to even ride. No Nana to watch me ride. I hated Brooklyn right away. Nothing good could ever come from this place. I had decided that at eight years old. Nana used to say, “Out of the mouths of babes comes the pure truth.”

  I was still crying as we pulled up on the strange block. My head pounded and I had to pee badly. I peered out the window at an orange and blue sign, posted in a small patch of grass, that read WELCOME TO CAREY GARDENS, N.Y.C.H.A. The building was very tall, not like the four-story walkup where Nana and me lived in the Bronx. There were so many people outside, kids and adults. I could hear music blasting from a large boom box sitting on a bench.

  “Here comes the brand new flava in ya ear! Time for new flava in ya ear! I’m kicking new flava in ya ear!” The Craig Mack lyrics had everyone outside jumping.

  “Ow!” Carlene shouted, raising her hands over her head and clapping. “That’s my shit. This remix be having me going.” She rocked her head up and down.

  I just wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up. It wasn’t nothing to fucking celebrate about. Nana wouldn’t like me thinking about curses in my head, but I couldn’t help it.