And You Call Yourself A Christian

by E. N. Joy

  A rage rose up in Unique like never before. The heat surrounding her was so hot she could barely breathe. Never, ever had she called her sister out of her name, but the B-word slipped from her tongue so quick, there was nothing Unique could do to reel it back in.

  “I know you did not just call me that,” Renee declared.

  “You suppose to be my sister and you trippin’ over your car being impounded and my boys are laid up in a casket dead. Really, Renee? Oh, trust me, I can think of some other names to call you.” And as Unique thought of those words, she allowed them too to spill from her tongue.

  Renee shot the F-word at Unique, followed by the word “you,” and then slammed the phone down. But not before shooting the B-word back at her too.

  “You stinking ... son of a ... black ...” Unique spat as she pounded the phone receiver against the hook.

  “Hey, if you break that phone before I get a chance to use it, I’ma break your freakin’ neck.” Of course, the word “freakin’” wasn’t the actual word spit out by the inmate next in line behind Unique.

  Unique was too fired up and hotheaded to even hear the threat, let alone take heed to it. She continued beating the hook with the receiver until finally someone grabbed her wrist.

  “Cut it out! Are you crazy? You wanna mess with these broads’ only means of communication to the outside world besides funky letters?” Shaking her head, Kiki, Unique’s cell mate, added, “I don’t think so.” Kiki made an attempt to remove the receiver from Unique’s hand.

  “No! I’m ’bout to call that ho back and cuss her out,” Unique yelled. She was so angry that tears fell from her eyes.

  By now, a couple of guards were making their way toward Unique.

  “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Kiki said, trying to keep them at bay. “Her kids’ funeral was today, and they didn’t let her out to go. Give her a break. I got this. For real, she’s good.”

  Convinced it was all good, the guards backed off.

  Kiki yoked Unique up by her shirt and spoke through clenched teeth. “Calm down before you end up in solitary before you even go to trial. Then what is that gon’ look like to the judge?”

  “I don’t care what things look like. I know people think my boys are dead because of me, but I didn’t kill ’em. I didn’t leave my boys for dead. Okay, so they found some dope on me; charge me for that, but don’t charge me for the death of my boys,” Unique yelled as snot ran from her nose.

  “Are you crazy?” Kiki couldn’t believe what was coming out of Unique’s mouth.

  “You’d rather go to jail for the drug rap than the charges against your boys?” She chuckled. “You a single black woman who they think covering for your baby daddy who is supposed to be some big drug kingpin.” She chuckled again. “Girl, don’t you know that’s what you should be worrying about? If I were you, I’d rather go with the charges of killing my boys. Get the sympathy of the jury and you’ll probably get less time.”

  Unique was lost. There was no way what Kiki was saying was logical. “You mean I could spend less time in jail for killing my boys than for selling crack? No way.” Unique refused to believe a crack rock held more value than the life of a child.

  “Hey, can you two go somewhere else and play Doctor Phil and Oprah? I need to make a call here,” the woman next in line shouted.

  Kiki shot the woman a menacing glare, causing her to fall back a little. She then turned her attention back to Unique. “Humph, so you don’t believe me, do you? Come here.” Kiki grabbed Unique by the arm and took her back to their cell. “Looky here.”

  Kiki pulled her thin mattress up and newspapers were layered under it. She dug around until she could find the one she was looking for. Picking up a paper, she scanned it momentarily. “Yep, this is the one I was looking for.” She handed it to Unique. “Here, you take it and read that, then tell me what charge you’re more willing to take.” She headed out of the cell. “Now, I gotta go get my place back in the phone line. My chick is waiting on my call.”

  Unique looked down at the Washington Post newspaper Kiki had handed her. “How in the world did she get this?” She began to scan the article. The more she read, the more interesting it got; she got what Kiki had been trying to tell her. By the time she finished reading the article, she was convinced that she would rather admit to killing her boys than to selling drugs. She made up her mind what she was going to have to do.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I must advise you as my client, that I feel what you want to do is not in your best interest,” the suited-up woman said to Unique as she sat across from her at the same table Unique had visited the attorney before her.

  Unique’s attorney nodded. The public defender that was initially assigned to her had been replaced by the woman sitting across from her. New Day had raised money to pay the retainer fee, but then after reading the case and talking to the former attorney, she decided the notoriety that would come from the case was worth more than anything they could have paid her. Besides that, and more important, she felt Unique was innocent, and that to some degree, she was a victim. Unique didn’t care what the attorney’s reasons were for taking over her case for no additional monies. She knew it was nothing but favor from God.

  “Pleading guilty to causing the death of your boys could be the worst possible mistake you make in your life,” her attorney told her.

  “No, ma’am,” Unique replied. “I think I’ve already made the worst possible mistake in my life when I left my boys in that car for what I thought was only going to be a couple of minutes.”

  There was a brief silence. Unique had her attorney on that one.

  “Anyway,” Unique continued, “the last attorney told me that the prosecuting attorney assigned to this case had already suggested the idea of a plea bargain. They said if I plead guilty to some charge, I can’t remember what it was but it had something to do with indirectly causing the death of my boys, that they might possibly drop the drug charges.” Unique sounded adamant that her mind had already been made up.

  “Unique, statements from some of the other defendants who were busted in that crack house, including your son’s father, indicate that was pretty much your first time ever even stepping foot inside that house.” She flipped through the case file that the other attorney had turned over to her. “They all are saying the same thing; that you and ... Gerald were arguing about money—child support.”

  “That’s true. I told you that already. I’ve told everybody that already, but it doesn’t seem to matter.” Unique sounded exasperated. “That’s why I’m just ready to cop this plea and be done with it. I’m tired.”

  Unique’s lawyer got intense as she leaned in and looked Unique in the eyes. “From what you’ve told me, from what you’ve told the last attorney, your story has not wavered. What these other people are saying, even the woman who owns the house, most of them didn’t even know you. I believe you, Unique. I believe your story. I believe that at the time, on that unimaginable day, you felt taking those boys inside the crack house was the worst of two evils. Your intentions were to go get what your son’s father rightly owed you, and then get back to your boys as soon as possible. No mother in her worst nightmare could have foreseen such a horrific thing occurring. No mother!”

  The attorney slammed her fist down, making Unique jump. She didn’t know how much more of this table pounding her nerves could take.

  “It sounds all good, but who’s going to buy it? Who cares about the truth anymore? Certainly not the media.” Unique rolled her eyes and pouted her lips.

  “Forget about the media.” Her attorney appeared to be thinking. “Let’s work an angle that has always worked for me.”

  “And what angle is that?” Unique leaned in with anticipation and curiosity.

  “The truth,” her attorney said, plain and simple.

  That was not what Unique wanted to hear. She thought her attorney was coming up with something much more creative than the truth. “I can’t take that chance
.”

  “What chance are you talking about? I’m still not understanding why you’re hell-bent on spending the rest of your life having people think you are responsible for the death of your children versus being a dope dealer.” Annoyance and confusion displayed itself on the attorney’s face.

  “Because of what I read in the Washington Post, that’s why.” Now Unique banged her fist against the table. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.

  “Washington Post? This story made Washington Post news?”

  Unique could see the attorney about to get all Hollywood on her. “No, not my case.” Unique rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. “I read an article about the harsh penalties for crack cocaine that were introduced back in the ’80s. I read that Congress approved the law back then to discourage all the crimes that were taking place as a result of the selling of crack. It said that if someone was caught with five grams of crack cocaine, they could get a mandatory minimum sentence of five years. That possession of fifty grams of crack got them ten years minimum. I mean, fifty grams, that’s like what? The weight of a couple of pennies? Is that true?”

  “Yes, those laws were specifically for crack cocaine, which is what was found in your possession. Had it been powder cocaine, then it would have been a different story,” her attorney told her. “But all that is going to start changing, hopefully, with the latest Fair Sentencing Act.”

  “Yeah, I read about that too. That’s the bill that eliminates a mandatory minimum sentence for simple possession. It said that an offender would have to be convicted of the possession of twenty-eight grams or more of crack for the five-year mandatory sentence and 208 grams or more for the ten-year prison term.”

  Once again, Unique’s attorney nodded. She smiled, impressed with Unique’s research.

  “So how much was in that bag I had?”

  Her attorney’s smile faded. “About thirty grams.”

  “Oh, Jesus!” was all Unique could say. Nervousness took over as her hands began to tremble. “I’m hit. I’m done.” Sounding more desperate than she ever had in her life, and feeling more desperate too, she said to her attorney, “Get me a plea. I don’t care what you, my mama, sisters, brothers, or anybody else in this world thinks. I’m not about to let them throw the book at me. No way, no how. Now I’m done talking. Come back and see me when there’s a deal on the table.” Unique looked over her shoulder at the door with the window behind her. “Guard, this visit is over!” she shouted, stood up, and then walked over to the door.

  Her attorney slammed the case file closed. “Okay, Ms. Gray, if you say so.” The attorney stood. “I’ll go get to wheeling and dealing on your behalf just as soon as I leave here.” Sarcasm laced the attorney’s voice as she gathered up her things and walked over to the door just as the guard opened it. Before exiting, the attorney stopped in front of Unique. “This is a first for me; a client doubtful of my abilities in the courtroom, forcing me to run out and make a deal with the devil.” She looked Unique up and down. “Oh ye of little faith.” She sucked her teeth and twisted up her lips. “And you call yourself a Christian.” On that note, the attorney exited the room.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “How are my little angels?” Lorain placed kisses all over her twin daughters’ foreheads. With the death of her grandsons, she was not taking any given moment for granted. Tomorrow was not promised. Heck, not even tonight was promised.

  “Your little angels just about ran their granny ragged.” Eleanor wiped invisible sweat off of her forehead as she sat down on her couch. “Lord, it’s so cute when they start walking, but I don’t know about chasing they little behinds all over my house. And they get into everything.” She looked at the chubby faces of her grandchildren, who were in all actuality her great-grandchildren.

  At first, Eleanor was anything but pleased with the idea that her only child was expecting a baby; but not one that she would be giving birth to herself. Out of all the random women at New Day Temple of Faith Lorain could have asked to carry her child, she’d picked, according to Eleanor’s standards, the most ghetto thing up in there. And besides, allowing another woman to carry her child for her just didn’t seem natural in Eleanor’s eyes.

  As if that weren’t enough to deal with, through a little church gossip, word got back to Eleanor that Unique wasn’t some random woman at all; she was actually Lorain’s child. She was the child Eleanor never knew her daughter had because she’d hid her teenage pregnancy. And when the baby was born, Lorain threw it in the trash can, leaving the baby for dead. As a matter of fact, for years Lorain had thought the baby had died, but she would learn otherwise.

  To add salt to the wound, Eleanor had to deal with the fact that not only had Lorain gotten pregnant and had a child at the age of thirteen, but it had been by a grown man; a trusted school counselor. If that wasn’t enough to handle, unbeknownst to Eleanor, the retired principal she’d just married was that man. Eleanor didn’t find all of this out until her late husband’s death, and it had been a hard pill to swallow. But now, as she looked at the twins, her grandchildren legally but her great-grandchildren biologically, nothing else mattered anymore.

  “So, y’all been giving Granny Eleanor a hard time?” Lorain said to the twins in between kisses. “Did y’all?” She began tickling them. The smiles on each of their little faces were priceless.

  Tears formed in Lorain’s eyes as she squeezed the girls close to her. She was holding them so close, so tightly, that she squeezed the smiles right off their faces. The girls began fidgeting and clawing at Lorain.

  “Lorain, honey, you’re smothering them.” Eleanor got back up off the couch and went over and rescued her grandchildren. Shooting Lorain a half-evil, half-concerned eye, Eleanor grabbed each twin by the hand and began escorting them into the kitchen. “Come on, Granny’s babies. Let me go put y’all in y’all’s highchair and give you another snack before Mommy whisks you away.” Eleanor and the twins disappeared behind the kitchen door.

  Mommy. I’m somebody’s Mommy, Lorain thought. She sat there on the couch, picked up a throw pillow, and hugged it like it was a real person. She might have been somebody’s Mommy, but Korica would always be there to remind her that she wasn’t Unique’s. Korica had even made that very clear at the funeral.

  “You didn’t leave a stone unturned,” Korica had said to Lorain after the burial, when everyone else was making their way to their cars. Just the two of them stood over the triple graves.

  “It’s everything Unique wanted,” Lorain sniffed, wiping her eyes with the handkerchief someone had slipped into her hand while at the viewing earlier that day.

  “Everything she ever wanted, huh?” Korica never took her eyes off the boys’ graves. She stared straight on, as if looking at the woman standing next to her was the last thing she wanted to do. “And you don’t think it’s a little too late for that; giving Unique everything she wants? After all, the girl will be twenty-six years old before we know it. She’s not a baby anymore. You missed those years.”

  Korica seemed to have enjoyed saying that very last statement far too much. Too much for Lorain to do the Christian thing and let it slide.

  “And from what I hear, so did you,” Lorain shot back. “How old was she when you bought her? Or was she sold to you? I can’t remember.”

  “Oh, so you want to go there, do you?” Korica bobbed her head up and down slowly as she allowed her tongue to make a popping noise against the roof of her mouth. “I guess the fact of whether I bought her or sold her is irrelevant. She would have never ended up in foster care in the first place had you not thrown her away like she was garbage. Everything she wants included the love and the care of a mother, which is what I gave her.”

  “Yeah, you and the woman who sold her to you in the first place; or whatever arrangement it was the two of you schemed up.” Lorain put her index finger to her temple and began tapping, as if trying to recollect something. “Oh yeah; I remember. The real foster mother and her husband moved away, only
they didn’t want to take Unique with them. Only they didn’t want to give up the check the state was paying them either. So that’s when you decided you’d keep Unique and the check. The system was so messed up that you got away with it. But I bet had that check stopped, you would have—”

  “Thrown her away like her birth mother did?” Korica snarled, this time staring right into Lorain’s eyes. “Never. You might have been able to live with yourself knowing that this,” she pointed to one of the graves, “that this right here could have been your baby ... could have been my Unique, but I couldn’t.” She looked Lorain up and down. “And you call yourself a Christian. Well, maybe you and your mama should have asked what would Jesus do, because I’m sure He wouldn’t have thrown out the baby for dead, like a murderer.”

  “Stop it! Stop it right there!” Lorain yelled. Her pastor, who was quite a few feet away talking to the funeral director, looked Lorain’s way momentarily, but then continued her conversation.

  “You want me to stop?” Korica was using a whiny voice. “Oh, but baby, I’m just getting started. Trust me, the mommy lion’s fangs are about to show.”

  “But why? I don’t get it. Why are you so bitter toward me?”

  “Why? The fact that you have to ask makes it even worse.” Korica let out a tsk sound. “Aren’t you Christians supposed to serve this all-knowing God?” She lifted her hands up to heaven in a mocking way. “Then ask Him.”

  “I’m choosing to ask the devil instead.” Lorain glared at Korica so that there would be no doubt about whether she was being referred to as the devil. “So what’s your deal?”

  Korica appeared to be filled with so much anger as she turned her body to face Lorain. She began speaking through gritted teeth while pointing in Lorain’s face. “My deal is you waltzing back into Unique’s life like this born-again saint who can do no wrong.” Korica looked over Lorain’s shoulder at her pastor. “Does your reverend know your dirty little secret?”