Dysfunctional (The Root of Betrayal)

by Tameka Hicks

  She worked seven days for sixteen years, zero absence for this company, and before she started having car trouble and Lasha’s appointments; they loved her-so she thought. She didn’t mind because she could get her unemployment benefits and was able to be at home with the “Little Whiner,” but I have to see after her because once she goes to sleep, she’s out like a turn signal light bulb.

  Charles is becoming a little nerve wrecking; he’s mad because I still don’t want to be boyfriend and girlfriend. I really don’t have time to be a girlfriend because I’m too busy playing mother. That’s why whenever I’m able to get away to grandma’s house I run like a quarterback. Alexis and I still agree to disagree on everything when I go and visit. Ashley, her daughter, came out weighing twelve pounds and eleven ounces, ripping her mother a new asshole. Ashley is a good baby in comparison to “Little Whiner,” feed her, and she’s sleep for a while. Grandma keeps Ashley while Alexis goes to work and school, but I’m stuck with big mouth. Juan hasn’t seen as much as a picture of his baby. Kelly had her baby and Juan found out that the baby wasn’t his. It was his cousin’s Bam Bam. Do you see how karma works?

  Paul; his brother comes over to see and bring Ashley gifts, but I think he’s coming to visit Alexis also. I heard that he had liked Alexis, but Juan got next to her first. Snooze, you lose.

  Lynette continues to strip and I get hush money from her every month because grandma still is in the dark about that. Jeanette had the house fixed up before Lasha was released from the hospital. She had to stay in the hospital for eight weeks because her lungs weren’t strong enough to breathe without oxygen. It took for Princess Lasha to be born before she worked on the house. I have to do homework and study for a test that I will probably fail. Well, until next time.

  DOOMS DAY

  September 10, 1991

  Tuesday-7:45 a.m.

  Today was another gloomy, boring, rainy day. The streets were filled with puddles of water from the rain. You couldn’t tell that it was morning because it was still dark outside. Jeanette’s window was cracked wide enough for a small breeze to come through and ruffle the blinds. Tamara relaxed in the bed listening to the raindrops hit the awning and the windowsill outside. She counted the seconds after the flash of lightning struck to see how long it took for the thunder to come.

  “The storm was moving along.”

  The windows shook so she decided to put on her headphones to listen to some music. She loved when it rained, but hated the thundering and lightning that followed. What she loved most was the scent of fresh rain once it aired out her small (stuffy) room.

  Jeanette was downstairs dead to the world. She was a terrible person to have to occupy a bed with. When she was younger she had the entire bed to herself because no one wanted to sleep beside her. She snored, kicked, punched and pissed excessively over herself and the unlucky guest who had to sleep with her. That’s why Lasha slept in a crib, in the bedroom upstairs next to Tamara’s room because she slept light.

  One day last week, Tamara heard a loud boom, and then a loud cry, because Lasha had rolled out of the bed, or Jeanette kicked her out. Either way her sleeping arrangements had to change from that day forward. She had a big knot on her head for a few days and was more irritable all that week.

  The rain fell harder making it impossible to see the house across the street, and the thunder made the windows tremor. If you hadn’t known any better you would’ve sworn that it had struck the house. The loud sound of thunder startled Jeanette and she snapped out of her coma.

  Have I been up yet to feed Lasha? What time is it? She wondered as she rubbed her burning eyes. She rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock. It was one of those days that you wanted to stay in bed all day and not be disturbed by anyone, maybe grab a bite to eat and head straight back to bed.

  Tamara was stretched out across the bed listening to Al Green’s “Love and Happiness” she hugged her Winnie the Pooh teddy bear. She’d bought Lasha a matching teddy bear from the dollar store on Gratiot three days ago. Al Green’s voice started to drag because the batteries were dying. Good thing she had followed her mind and bought two packs of batteries the other day. A huge percentage of her allowance (if not all of it) went on batteries, candy and cassette tapes.

  “Oh shit! I’ve overslept and my baby is probably starving.” Jeanette ran into the kitchen and took out an eight-ounce bottle from the refrigerator. She loved having a reason to open her new refrigerator. She was so proud of her gift from her baby sister.

  She wondered where Lynette got the money for this expensive gift, but she’d accepted it gratefully. She went into the kitchen drawer to take out the purple lighter for the stove. She smiled to herself; she forgot she had a new stove too.

  “Oh shoot-I forgot that I don’t have to use the lighter anymore.” She tested the bottle on the back of her hand. “Ouch, that’s too hot!”

  She immersed the bottle into a cup of cold water. She walked up the stairs humming, Shirley Murdock’s song “As We Lay.” The song played on the radio last night, and she hadn’t been able to get it out of her head. That was her mother’s favorite song. She peeped into the room.

  “Good she’s still sleeping,” she whispered. Lasha was lying in the crib with her face towards the teddy bears. “She was really tired. Good morning, Mama’s Pooh Bear. Time to get up and eat little mama,” she walked over to the diaper changing table to get a diaper. She must’ve been real tired because she has never slept past six thirty before, thought Jeanette. She reached into the crib and picked her up, but there was no sign of life in her little body. She immediately started CPR.

  “This can’t be happening!” Her body had lain limp, cold and non-responsive. Her face was a dark blue color. She softly shook her hoping that would wake her up. Nothing worked.

  “Tamara!!! OH MY GOD! LASHA. Tamara!"

  She started giving the baby CPR again. Maybe I wasn’t doing it right. She rehearsed the CPR steps that she’d learned when she took the class at American Red Cross.

  Tamara removed the headphones because she thought she heard Jeanette’s voice. “What does she want now?” she mumbled.

  She stood in the hallway as Jeanette lost her mind. “What are you doing?” she yelled.

  “My baby, she’s not breathing!” Jeanette hysterically had given her two quick breaths followed by thirty chest compressions using her two fingers like she was trained to do. “Come on baby girl,” she mumbled.

  “What happened to her,” Tamara screamed.

  “Call for help! Oh Lord! It’s not working!”

  Tamara called for help and then she called her grandmother. “Grandma something’s wrong with Lasha. She’s not breathing,” Tamara said nervously.

  “WHAT?”

  “I just called the ambulance, and they’re on their way. Grandma! She’s not breathing! Come over here!”

  “Here I come,” Barbara replied troubled.

  Jeanette sobbed, rocking back and forth as she held Lasha in her arms on the floor. “What happened to my baby? What did you do to my baby?”

  “What did I do? You were the last one in here with her so what did YOU do to her?”

  Jeanette yelled. “I HATE YOU! I didn’t do anything! You did something to my baby!”

  “When I laid her down she was fine last night,” Tamara explained.

  Tamara heard the sirens from the ambulance truck in front of the house. She went downstairs and opened the door. Jeanette sat there rocking her with this mortified (crazed) look upon her face.

  “Lasha, wake up for mama!”

  “I can’t believe the same male technician from last time is back,” she mumbled. “Are you the only EMT working on the eastside?”

  “No, we were the closest to the scene,” said Head. Murkowski and Head stormed into the house carrying their equipment. “Where’s the baby?” asked Murkowski.

  “Go upstairs the first room on your left.” Tamara stood there with her eyes full of tears. “Oh, what have-?”


  “What’s the matter with the baby ma’am? Can I see her,” asked Head.

  She snatched away from Head. “No, she’s gone. Don’t touch my baby!” she yelled. Murkowski held out her hands. “Give us the baby.”

  “You’re just trying to take her away from me! Get your hands off of me!”

  Tamara leaned up against the wall in the hallway by the room as a thousand different emotions ran through her mind and body.

  “Oh no, I can’t breathe,” Jeanette fainted. She hit her head hard on the floor as the reality of her baby dying hit her.

  Head ran over to her. “What’s her name?”

  “Jeanette.”

  He tapped her shoulder. “Jeanette, are you okay?” He placed an oxygen mask over her face. A few seconds passed and she woke up yelling and screaming. “Where’s my baby?” She snatched the mask off her face as she jumped up and went over to her baby. “NO!”

  She yelled for everyone to get out of the room. “You weren’t here to save my baby so all of you get the hell out this room! Don’t touch my baby!” She slammed the door.

  “Let’s step over her.” Murkowski asked Tamara, “What happened?”

  “Are you the police too?”

  “No,” answered Head.

  “I didn’t think so,’ she sarcastically replied.

  Murkowski was already on her CB notifying the authorities. It was Standard Operating Procedure whenever someone was D.O.A when “they” arrived. She was not in the mood to deal with Tamara’s sarcasm today.

  “Do what you have to do first, and then ask me questions,” she said sarcastically as she started to clean her nails out.

  “We have to fill out a report about what happened here that’s all honey,” Head explained.

  “So what happened?” he asked again.

  “All I know is this morning, Jeanette woke up-"

  He interrupted. “Is Jeanette your mother?”

  “Are you going to let me finish or not?”

  “Sorry,” he smiled.

  She rolled her eyes at him. “When she woke up Lasha wasn’t breathing. Her face was all blue and Jeanette started screaming. I called y’all and that’s all I know.”

  “Okay, thank-you ma’am. We’re going to stay outside until the examiner arrives.”

  “My name is Tamara. I’m not a ma’am.”

  Tamara cracked the door wide enough to see that she was changing the baby’s diaper talking to her. “Oh Jesus, Jeanette’s going nuts,” she mumbled.

  Barbara, Aunt Ann and Uncle Jay stormed into the house because the door was wide open. “Jeanette!”

  “We’re up here grandma!”

  You heard Barbara screaming once she caught a glimpse of her grandchild lying in her mother’s arms lifeless. They all held each other as Jeanette stood in the middle holding the baby.

  “Mama, why did this happen? Mama! Oh Mama! Why did this happen to my baby?”

  “Dear God help us,” said Barbara.

  I have to go outside somewhere and smoke, thought Tamara. “I’ll be back.”

  Damaurcus' mother, Charisse burst into the house almost knocking Tamara down.

  “Where’s Jeanette?” Tamara pointed upstairs.

  She didn’t know actually what was wrong because a neighbor called telling her that the ambulance was at Jeanette’s house.

  “No, not my baby,” Charisse started to scratch herself like she had fleas. She did this when she was really nervous about something. Tamara couldn’t stomach the sounds that came from upstairs any longer. She stood on the side of the house in her pajamas underneath her umbrella in the rain.

  The medical examiner pulled in front of the house writing something down on a notepad. She put out the cigarette and walked onto the front porch.

  “Hello,” he said.

  She waved. He walked towards the door wearing a black raincoat carrying his doctor bag looking like Dr. Death himself. Tamara felt a spooky aura about him.

  “Go right in. Go to the first room to the left, but let someone know that you’re here before you go up there, or you’ll need a medical examiner for yourself.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” he snickered.

  He took heed and knocked on the door, and Barbara answered it.

  “Who is it?” she yelled, peeping out the window.

  He explained who he was, and she let him in to do his job. However, it wasn’t going to be easy. Everyone vacated the room except for Jeanette. He examined Lasha, and asked her a series of questions. He came to the preliminary conclusion that suffocation was the cause of death. She must’ve turned over on her teddy bears and couldn’t turn back over, and she suffocated. Jeanette held her hands over her face as he explained what he determined had happened.

  “I’ve seen tragedies like this happen before, and I’m so sorry. There was another possibility as well; her baby could have died from SIDS. That’s when the infant’s brain forgets how to breathe naturally, and they suffocate.”

  She relaxed on the twin-sized bed next to Lasha, rocking back and forth crying. This was too much for her to handle.

  The doctor thought, I hate my job at times like this. I feel so bad for the family. He opened the door.

  “I’ll be back.” He touched Barbara’s shoulder, and asked her, “Can I speak to you alone?’’

  “Sure.”

  “I represent Swanson’s Funeral Home.” He passed her a business card. “You can call Mr. Nestle to get the arrangements together if you didn’t have a place in mind. You have my deepest condolences. I just buried my own mother two weeks ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Barbara said.

  He forced a smile. “She lived a good life.” He went out to the van and brought back the Gurney and a body bag. “I’m going to leave this down here so she won’t see me put the baby in it. I have to take her and that’s always the hardest part for the parents.”

  “It’ll be okay. She has us.”

  “I’m sorry Shay. Mama’s sorry. I couldn’t help you.”

  Ann and Jay tried to get Jeanette off the floor with the baby, but she refused.

  “I don’t want to get up now.”

  Barbara wiped her tears. “Baby, get up. He’s here to get the baby.”

  She held her tighter. “No one’s taking my baby from me. I’m going with her. I want to go with her!”

  Aunt Ann said, “What about Tamara?”

  “She doesn’t love me. She did this!”

  Everyone in the house had to grab a limb because she started to kick and scream. She bit the medical examiner on his right hand and kicked Charisse in the stomach. Ann and Barbara grabbed Jeanette as he took the baby downstairs. Jeanette tried with all her strength to break loose but they sat on her. “I want to look out and see my baby!”

  “You don’t need to see her,” said Charisse.

  “Don’t tell me what I need to see!”

  “Let her go,” explained Barb. “Let her look out of the window.”

  The medical examiner pulled off in a hurry, leaving the gurney behind. All he had time for was to get the baby and place her in the bag before Jeanette had gotten loose.

  They released her. Jeanette was irritated; she had broken everything that she had touched. She ran into the bathroom and locked the door.

  “Jeanette!” called Barbara. “Open the door.”

  She searched in the medicine cabinet for any pills to take. “Go away Mama.”

  “Please open up the door.”

  THE MISSI G PAGES

  DIARY E TRY

  Sunday

  Dear Diary,

  Grandma stayed a week over to the house after Lasha died. The family constantly came to visit Jeanette and grandma. I stayed in my room because I have never seen so many people under one small roof before in all my years. I didn’t recognize half of those people. They just wanted to be nosey and hear what had happened to the baby. Everyone who came to the house brought plenty of food. We had enough fish, chicken and spaghetti to last an entire
year. Grandma stored most of the food in the freezer for a later date. I believed that Jeanette honestly appreciated the fact that people came to see about her, but she wasn’t in the frame of mind for guests, but they kept coming anyway. Monday, Grandma and William went to the funeral home to make the arrangements. I overheard grandma saying that she decided on a closed casket because she didn’t think that Jeanette would be able to handle it being open.

  On Tuesday, Nia and Nikki came over to see about me. I told them that I was all right, but they insisted that I was trying to put up a strong shield for them. Nia hadn’t been over here in months, I told her that she should’ve have stayed where she was and that made her cry. Like always, I hurt her little sensitive ass feelings again. I told them that I didn’t feel like being bothered; so whatever I say, so be it. Everyone has days that they’d rather not be bothered. I have more of those days than normal people I guess, but that’s just me.

  This morning Jeanette was doing a little better, or so we thought, but she had us fooled. She ate some breakfast today for the first time since Lasha died. She even laughed and spoke a few words to Diane and Marion. When night time came, grandma went downstairs into the kitchen to get some water, and she found Jeanette stretched out on the floor. I heard grandma screaming and then Diane.

  “Call for help!” Next to Jeanette laid an empty prescription bottle of Motrin 600 pills. I just closed my eyes and turned up the music in my headset. I know she has every right to be upset because she had lost her child, but she’s grieving worse than grandma did when granddaddy died. And she knew him longer than Jeanette knew Lasha. Okay, that sounds a little heartless. I wondered would she have acted this way if it was me who had died, instead of her precious little baby. After the ambulance people came, thank goodness it wasn’t Head and Murkowski. They had to pump Jeanette’s stomach because she had taken thirteen pills. It was a good thing that grandma had gone downstairs at that precise moment or Jeanette would’ve been "a goner", especially if we were here alone because I never go around the house like that. Jeanette’s not going to stop until she kills her foolish self.