Crossroads

by Nikita Lynnette Nichols

  “Something like that,” Amaris answered while picking at her newly coated acrylic fingernails.

  Michelle inhaled the smell of nicotine. “Have you been smoking?”

  “Maybe.”

  Right then and there, Michelle decided that it would be best if she didn’t continue the conversation with her daughter in the car. The temptation of going upside the disrespectful girl’s head was too great. Amaris’s nonchalant attitude was pushing Michelle over the edge. The wise thing to do would be to wait until they got home. Michelle thought that being behind closed doors where there were no witnesses would be the best way to deal with her hot-to-trot daughter.

  As she drove home in silence, she spoke to the Lord. Father, I was a virgin until marriage. I’ve served You all of my life and stayed true to You. I’ve never given Daddy any trouble whatsoever. I was an honor student and graduated at the top of my class. I’m a successful lawyer, and I pay my tithes and offerings faithfully, Lord. What did I do to deserve a replica of my sister?

  Michelle and James were ecstatic when Amaris was born. Amaryllis and Charles, who eventually married, had flown from Chicago to Las Vegas for the birth of Amaryllis’s niece. They were sitting in the waiting area when James came and told Amaryllis that her niece had been born and she could go see her. When Amaryllis walked into Michelle’s delivery room, the first thing she said was, “Oh my God. She’s a mini me, Michelle.”

  The seven-pound three-ounce baby girl was light skinned with a head full of black curly hair. She had inherited her aunt’s color, pinched nose, and full lips. Both Michelle and James were dark skinned, and Michelle didn’t understand where her baby had gotten her high yellow skin from until her sister had walked into the delivery room. It wasn’t until Amaryllis said those words that she realized that she had just given birth to another Amaryllis.

  When their father, Nicholas, walked into the delivery room and saw his granddaughter for the first time, he said, “That’s Amaryllis all over again.”

  For months prior to the delivery, Michelle and James had disagreed on what name to give their baby girl. Even on the day of her birth they still hadn’t come to an agreement. Grateful that Amaryllis had come from Chicago for the birth of her niece, Michelle and James had allowed her to name their daughter.

  Amaryllis sat in a chair next to Michelle’s bed and held her niece and thought about a fitting name.

  “All I ask is that you don’t name her anything freakish like Margarita, Alize’, or anything pertaining to liquor,” James said.

  “And don’t give her any of your ghetto friends’ names like Sharylonda, TyQuandra, Bodrene, or Saturn,” Nicholas added.

  “Oh, God. Please don’t name her anything like that,” James begged.

  “I agree with Daddy and James. Don’t give her any name that’ll be too hard for the world to pronounce or spell,” Michelle added.

  “Like mine?” Amaryllis asked them all.

  James laughed. “Yes, like yours. Haven’t you ever noticed that I always call you, ‘Sis’? That’s because I can’t pronounce your name correctly.”

  Amaryllis looked down into her niece’s sweet, little face. “You’re a mini me. I shall call you, Amaris.”

  Amaryllis looked at James’s face, then Michelle’s face, and then her father’s face.

  They didn’t say a word, but they all looked at each other, then back at her.

  “Her name is Amaris Denise Bradley,” Amaryllis stated loudly.

  “I like it,” Nicholas said.

  Michelle smiled. “It’s cute. Thanks for giving her my middle name.”

  Amaryllis looked at her brother-in-law. “Well, Papa?”

  James caressed his beard. “Amaris Denise Bradley, huh?” He contemplated for a long ten seconds. “I guess I can live with that.”

  Michelle and James had no clue that when Amaryllis had said that their baby girl was a mini version of herself that Amaryllis was speaking prophetically. In the years to come, Amaris would take them on a journey. A journey that her aunt Amaryllis had taken. A journey of promiscuity, deception, lies, secrets, and plenty of heartache. The name “Amaris” was indeed short for “Amaryllis.”

  Michelle stood in her living room and thought back sixteen years prior to when their grandmother in Baton Rouge had informed her that any offspring born to their family would be witches and warlocks. Michelle often wondered if it had been a mistake allowing Amaryllis to name her daughter after her.

  If Amaris was indeed cursed, Michelle vowed to break it by any means necessary. Either she’d break the generational curse, or she’d break Amaris’s behind.

  Loud rap music had begun to play from the upstairs bedroom, and Michelle was on her way up the stairs to silence the noise when her cellular phone rang. She took her phone out of her purse and saw James’s cellular number on the caller identification. So, instead, she plopped down on the sofa, then answered her husband’s call. “Hi, honey.”

  Michelle wasn’t chipper like she normally was whenever she answered his call and, James knew it.

  “Uh-oh” was all he said.

  “Uh-oh is right. We got problems.”

  “I called the law office, and Chantal told me that you had gone to Amaris’s school. So, what did our lovely junior in high school do this time? No, wait! Don’t tell me. Let me guess. She got into another fight?”

  Michelle ran her hands through her hair. “Nope.”

  “Did she disrespect one of her teachers again?”

  The music coming from upstairs made it difficult for Michelle to hear James clearly. “Hold on a minute, honey.” Michelle yelled toward the stairs. “Amaris, turn that dog-gone music off, right now!” She brought the telephone back to her ear. “I’m getting ready to go to jail, James. I’m going to kill her.”

  “What did she do, Mickey?”

  “She ditched school again. I found her sitting on Slash’s front porch.”

  “What?”

  “And I don’t even wanna tell you what she was wearing. She may as well have been naked. And, James, she wasn’t wearing a bra.”

  Years before, James had lost his mind when Michelle informed him that their eight-year-old daughter was ready for a training bra.

  “She’s only in the third-grade, Mickey.”

  “I know that, James. But have you taken a good look at your daughter lately? We gotta face it. Her breasts are developing fast, and we can’t let her continue to walk around without some type of support.”

  James had begged Michelle to wait awhile longer before she took their daughter bra shopping. Buying a bra told him that his daughter was becoming a woman, and that was a fact he didn’t want to accept. But when Amaris had walked into the kitchen the next morning wearing a thin T-shirt, James saw that her breasts were standing at attention.

  “Are you cold?” he asked her.

  Amaris looked at her father with a weird expression on her face. “No. Why did you ask me that?”

  He looked at her breasts again. It was indeed time for a bra. He told Michelle to make sure to buy padded bras.

  James, a homicide detective, was in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, on business. “I’m coming home, Mickey.”

  “James, you can’t come home. I can handle our daughter just fine.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t be there to help you with this.”

  Michelle ran her hands through her hair again and exhaled. “I just gotta do what I gotta do, honey.”

  Those words worried James. He had to constantly play referee between his daughter and his wife. If it weren’t for him, Michelle would have indeed been locked up a long time ago. “What does that mean, Mickey?”

  “That means that by the time you get back home, I’ll be incarcerated and your daughter will be six feet under.”

  Michelle ended her call with James and marched up the steps to her daughter’s room. Amaris was lying on her bed with her hands extended behind her head. Michelle walked over and sat next to her.

  “What’s going on with yo
u, Amaris?”

  Amaris looked at her mother but didn’t offer a response.

  Michelle looked at her daughter’s face. In spite of the makeup, Amaris was very beautiful with soft features. It worried Michelle that she was seeking validity from boys when she didn’t have to. Both she and James often told her that she was a beautiful girl.

  “Why can’t you see that Slash is no good for you? He didn’t graduate from high school, he doesn’t have a job, and he has no future. Why would you wanna throw your life away for a bum? He’s not worth it, sweetheart.”

  Amaris turned to stare at the wall.

  “Don’t you want a respectable boyfriend?” Michelle continued. “Don’t you want a boy that sets goals and strives to achieve those goals?”

  Still no response from Amaris, so Michelle tried another approach. “Tell me what you like about Slash. Help me to understand your attraction to him.”

  Amaris sat up and swung her legs around to place her feet on the floor. “Slash is fun. He’s just cool to hang around with. You and Daddy won’t even give him a chance to prove himself because the first time you saw me talking to him at school, you didn’t like his appearance.”

  What Amaris had said was true. The first time Michelle saw Slash, she had driven up to the front of the high school to pick up Amaris. Michelle saw her daughter hanging on to every word that the boy was saying to her. He wore his hair in French braids. He had earrings in both ears. His jeans were sagging so that everyone could see his briefs. Tattoos covered his entire neck area, and a cigarette dangled from his lips. When Michelle honked her horn, Amaris grabbed him by the hand and proceeded toward the car.

  Amaris opened the passenger door and asked Michelle a question. “Ma, can you give my friend a ride home?”

  Michelle examined the boy up close. His braids were long overdue to be redone, his eyes were glazed, and fresh wounds on his arms were visible. To Michelle, the wounds looked like cuts.

  “Does your friend have a name?” Michelle asked Amaris but kept her focus on the boy.

  “His name is Slash.”

  Michelle looked at Slash from his overgrown hair to his feet. “Is that your birth name, young man?”

  “Nah, it ain’t the name my moms gave me, know what I’m sayin’? It’s a name I picked up from around the way, know what I’m sayin’?”

  When Slash opened his mouth to speak, Michelle saw nothing but gold. “Uh, no, I really don’t know what you’re saying. Are you a student here?”

  “Nah, I gave that up a long time ago, know what I’m sayin’? I couldn’t get with the whole school thing, you know what I’m sayin’?”

  Michelle looked at Amaris. “Get in the car.”

  Slash attempted to open the passenger rear door, but Michelle stopped him. “Uh, not you.” She looked at Amaris again. “I was talking to you.”

  “Well, can we give Slash a ri—” Amaris started.

  “No, we can not!” Michelle answered sternly.

  Amaris stared at her mother in disbelief. “Why? He doesn’t live far.”

  Michelle became upset that her daughter wouldn’t obey and do what she’d been told. “Because I said so, that’s why. Now get your behind in this car. I’m not gonna say it again, Amaris.”

  Amaris exhaled loudly and turned to Slash. “I’ll catch up with you later, Slash.”

  “It’s all good, cutie. You know where I’ll be, you know what I’m sayin’?”

  Finally, Amaris got in the car and looked at Michelle. “Thanks for embarrassing me, Mother. That was rude. I don’t know if I can face Slash again.”

  “Well, that won’t even be a problem because you will not see him again.”

  “Oh, so now you’re gonna pick my friends for me?”

  “Look into my eyes, Amaris,” Michelle ordered. She waited until her daughter met her eyeball for eyeball before she spoke. “He’s not a student here, therefore, he shouldn’t be hanging around. He’s a lowlife, a bum, a degenerate, and you are not permitted to talk to him ever again. Is that understood?”

  “So, uh, let me get this straight. Just because Slash dropped out of school and has tattoos and wears baggy pants, he’s a lowlife? Oh, that’s classy, Mother. You’re judging Slash before you even get to know him.”

  “What makes him a lowlife is going by the name of Slash with cuts on his arms to complement the name. And he’s a school dropout that looks like he hasn’t had a bath in months. You are not to see him again, and that’s all I have to say about it.”

  “You never gave him a chance,” Amaris whined.

  “Because he won’t give himself a chance. He’s throwing his life away, and I refuse to let you go down his path.”

  “Whatever, Ma.”

  And “whatever” was the attitude Amaris still seemed to have today.

  Michelle stood up from the bed. “Wash that makeup off your face, take that skirt off, and put on some decent clothes.”

  “But I like this skirt.”

  Michelle’s eyes grew wide. The disrespect had to stop. “I don’t give a rat’s behind what you like. I didn’t buy that skirt for you. It’s too short. Who gave it to you?”

  “A friend.”

  Michelle placed her hands on her hips. “What friend, Amaris?”

  Amaris exhaled and looked at her mother. “Just a friend. Dang.”

  Michelle closed her eyes and prayed. With every breath she took, her nostrils swelled. “Take…it…off!”

  “Okaaaaay. Dang,” Amaris stated but didn’t remove the skirt. She stood still looking at Michelle. “Can I have some privacy?”

  Michelle took two steps closer to her daughter and folded her arms across her chest. “Not in my house. Take the skirt off—Now!” she ordered.

  Amaris unbuttoned the skirt and slowly slipped it down her thighs. That’s when Michelle let out a loud scream.

  Chapter 28

  Forty-five minutes later, Michelle sat next to Amaris as her gynecologist examined her daughter. When the exam was completed, Amaris was asked to get dressed and wait in the lobby while the doctor spoke privately to Michelle.

  “She hasn’t been touched,” Michelle’s doctor confirmed.

  Michelle released a sigh of relief. “Thank God. There’s still time then.”

  “Time for what?” the doctor asked.

  “I want you to write her a prescription for birth control pills.” The doctor saw Michelle’s hands shaking. “Are you sure you want to do that? How can you be sure she’ll take the pills daily?”

  “Because I’m gonna shove them down her throat myself. That’s how I’ll know.”

  “But there’s still the matter of sexually transmitted diseases,” the doctor said. “You know that birth control pills alone won’t prevent her from contracting a disease. And she’s still a virgin, Michelle. Amaris is a good girl. I’m sure you can advise her against intercourse.”

  Tears dripped from Michelle’s eyes. “You don’t understand, Doctor. My daughter is living my sister’s life.”

  The doctor didn’t understand what Michelle meant. “And that means what?”

  Michelle wiped the tears from her face. “She’s cursed.”

  Michelle and Amaris rode home from the doctor’s office in silence. When they arrived home, Amaris marched straight upstairs to her room. Michelle sat on the sofa and cried openly. When Amaris revealed that she wasn’t wearing any panties, Michelle panicked and drove her straight to the clinic.

  She was still a virgin, but Michelle knew that it was only a matter of time before that changed. She got up from the sofa and went into the bathroom for tissue to blow her nose. Michelle looked at her reflection in the mirror. “Where have I gone wrong?” she asked herself.

  Michelle left the clinic with a prescription for birth control pills, but she hadn’t gotten it filled. Putting Amaris on the pill would clearly give her the green light to have sex, and Michelle didn’t want to do that. Besides, James would blow a gasket if he found out that his daughter was taking birth con
trol pills and Michelle hadn’t consulted with him.

  She walked into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. After she filled the teapot with water and set it on the open flame on top of the stove, she opened a cabinet and grabbed a mug and placed it on the counter. From a container in another cabinet, she pulled out a chamomile tea bag and placed it inside the cup. Michelle then sat at the kitchen table to wait for the kettle to sing. Her telephone rang, and she slowly stood to answer the cordless telephone on the wall.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “Michelle?”

  At the sound of her pastor’s wife’s voice, Michelle started to cry openly again. “Cookie, I don’t know what to do. James is not here, and I just don’t know what to do with this girl.”

  “Calm down. I’m on my way,” Cookie said.

  Later in the afternoon, Michelle told Cookie the events of the day.

  “Well, you and James certainly have your hands full, Michelle. But nothing is too hard for God,” Cookie encouraged her. “You have to keep Amaris lifted in prayer. She’s at that age when young girls act out.”

  “I understand that. But we’re not talking about Amaris not cleaning her room or not doing the dinner dishes. Cookie, she didn’t have on any underwear. And don’t forget she had been smoking. To me, that surpasses acting out.” Michelle paused before she spoke again. “I got Amaris a birth control pill prescription.”

  Cookie quickly shook her head from side to side. “Putting that girl on the pill is absolutely the wrong thing to do. You may as well say, ‘Amaris, you have my permission to have sex just as long as you don’t get pregnant.’”

  Michelle threw her hands in the air. “Well, then, tell me what I’m supposed to do, First Lady. Being darn near naked with that boy tells me that my daughter won’t be a virgin for much longer. And the more James and I fuss about her seeing Slash, the more defiant she gets. I mean, besides birth control, what other choices do I have?”