“Where is she? Where’s your daughter?” Simmy barked, the vein in her neck pulsing so fiercely she was sure it could be seen from a distance.
“You better calm down, little girl,” Serita shot back. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Jalissa took my brand new stuff and you know it. I want it back. Now.” Simmy tapped her foot impatiently, her chest moving up and down like someone was pumping on it.
“First off, she doesn’t need your stuff. We give her plenty, and we give our kids plenty,” Serita retorted, moving closer to Simmy. “And what stuff are you talking about?”
“Jalissa asked me to borrow an outfit this morning, and I told her no. I left my door unlocked by accident, and now my stuff is gone. There’s no one else in here who would take it. The boys sure can’t wear it. It’s no coincidence that she asked me, I said no, and now it’s all missing.” Simmy argued.
Serita laughed at her like she was a big joke. “Listen, crazy child. My daughter doesn’t steal. Furthermore, she doesn’t even like the stuff you wear. And, she can’t fit into your clothes. If you haven’t noticed, Jalissa has a much more shapely body than yours. Now please get out of our apartment acting crazy before I do something that you and me will regret,” Serita said firmly.
Simmy’s body temperature went up at least ten degrees. She felt like her blood was boiling in her veins and something throbbed behind her eye sockets. “I’m not going nowhere until I get my stuff back. Where’s my stuff?” Simmy yelled, pushing past Serita and storming farther into the basement space. Simmy pushed over the standing, foldable partition wall they used to make a makeshift bedroom for Jalissa. She threw open Jalissa’s drawers and plastic bins and began pulling stuff from them and tossing it onto the floor. “I want my stuff! She’s nothing but a snooty little thief! I want my stuff now!”
“Simone! I’m telling you, you better stop right all this before you regret it!”
“What’s going on?” Marcus seemed to appear out of nowhere as Simmy went through Jalissa’s room like a cyclone.
“You better get her, Marcus. I’m telling you if I put my hands on that girl . . .” Serita threatened.
“Simone, what are you doing?” Marcus yelled, grabbing Simmy, halting her movement. He clamped down on her arm until it was painful, but that didn’t seem to faze her.
“Your thief of a daughter stole my Gucci jacket, my Chanel boots, and a Givenchy skirt that I just bought. All of it still had tags on it. She asked me to borrow my clothes, and I told her no! She still went in my stuff and took it! She’s a thief!” Simmy screamed, angry tears in her eyes.
“She didn’t take it,” Marcus said firmly. “Now get out.” He pulled Simmy toward the steps. She tried to resist, but she was no match for his strength. He released her in front of the steps with a shove.
“And don’t bring no noise down here again,” Marcus grumbled.
Reluctantly, Simmy went stomping up each step. She stormed past the kitchen and out of the doors. This wasn’t the end of it. This bitch is gonna come home eventually.
Jalissa didn’t arrive home until three o’clock in the morning. Her rowdy group of friends pulled up in a raggedy Honda Accord, and she climbed out being just as raucous. Jalissa laughed loudly and screamed profanities at her friends jokingly, but not for long.
“Ow!” Jalissa shrieked. Her hands flew up to her head. She clearly didn’t know what had hit her.
Simmy gripped Jalissa’s weave so tight it rendered her powerless. Simmy had been waiting all night for Jalissa to get home.
“I asked you not to touch my stuff,” Simmy said through gritted teeth, dragging Jalissa down to the ground by her stitched-in hair. Jalissa tried to scream, but a fist to the mouth sent the sound back down her throat.
Jalissa’s friends exited the car and started screaming and jeering. They were trying to encourage Jalissa to get up and fight, but she couldn’t get up. Simmy’s anger had given her brute strength that even she didn’t recognize she had. Simmy grabbed her Gucci jacket with one hand and began yanking it off of Jalissa’s back.
Jalissa finally managed to scream. And scream she did. The way she was yelling out someone would have thought she was being murdered. Simmy kicked Jalissa in the stomach and wound her other hand tighter into Jalissa’s hair. When the jacket was off, Simmy began tugging on the Givenchy skirt. Simmy didn’t care if the clothes ripped at this point. She was more pissed off at the fact that Jalissa had the nerve to steal from her. That kind of disrespect was unforgivable.
“Fucking thief.” Simmy gritted her teeth. “I’ma leave your bum ass out here naked.”
Jalissa continued shrieking like she was being slaughtered. Not one of her ratchet friends dared to try to help her. As late as it was, in Brooklyn there were always people outside, so it didn’t take long before a big crowd had gathered to watch. Simmy heard people screaming, “WorldStar!”
By the time Simmy was done, Jalissa had nothing left on but her bra and one shoe. She had obviously worn Simmy’s skirt without panties underneath. Jalissa’s weave was ripped out in patches and lay scattered on the ground. Some stray pieces blew down the block like tumbleweed in the desert.
Jalissa ran screaming into the house. “She attacked me! She attacked me for nothing!” she screeched, holding her head.
Simmy followed her inside but stomped up to her bedroom. She paced the floor, trying to will herself to calm down. Even she didn’t recognize the person she was at that moment: chest heaving, eyes wild and roving, nostrils flaring like a bull on the charge. Simmy couldn’t decipher if the blind fit of rage was about the clothes, the principle of the matter, or just pent-up anger for everything coming down at once.
“Don’t try to take shit from me. I told you no, and I meant it. That stuff was mine. Don’t take my stuff. They already took everything I had.” Simmy gritted her teeth through tears, raising both of her hands to either side of her head, tugging hard on her hair as she walked in circles grumbling.
“Simone!” Mummy Pat burst into Simmy’s room, her usually butter-colored face the color of cooked beets, her eyes hooded over. “Did you leave Jalissa naked outside in front of all those people? Did you attack her like a stranger in the street?”
“She took my stuff, Mummy!”
“I don’t care!” Mummy Pat boomed, walking into Simmy with the force of a wrecking ball. Simmy fell flat on her butt. Pain shot straight up her back. “We are a family! You don’t attack your own family over material things!” Mummy Pat boomed, throwing wild slaps at Simmy’s face and head.
Simmy threw her arms up to shield her head from her grandmother’s blows. With each slap and punch she took, Simmy felt her heart breaking more and more. Her grandmother had never raised a hand to her like that. The shock of it all made Simmy feel like her heart would explode. She imagined this was what dying felt like.
“If you can’t get along in my house with my family then find yourself on the streets,” Mummy Pat said with finality, ending her assault. Her words exploded like small bombs in Simmy’s ears.
Simmy cried so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. She kept her head covered and rocked back and forth on the floor.
“Mummy! You’re wrong!” Sheryl burst into the room and stepped right in Mummy Pat’s path.
“Move.” Mummy Pat gritted her teeth. “I’m in no mood for you this morning, Sheryl.”
“No! You’re going to hear me out!” Sheryl barked, pushing Mummy Pat hard in her chest. Mummy Pat stumbled backward a few steps.
Simmy sat up. “Forget it, Sheryl,” Simmy cried out. “I’ll just leave. If she wants me gone, then I’ll go!”
“It’s not right, Mummy! That girl stole Simone’s things. You told me yourself that Simone is working hard for her stuff. Why is it okay for Jalissa to take her things like that? Why? I’ll tell you why. Because she’s Marcus’s stepdaughter, that’s why! Right, Mummy? He and his devil spawns can’t do no wrong in your eyes, right? Right? You’re going to toss this poor girl on
the streets over the likes of them?” Sheryl preached, her voice so loud it sounded like she was speaking through a microphone. Simmy couldn’t believe her aunt, who usually gave her a hard time, was taking up for her.
“You know what, Sheryl? Anybody who don’t like what I do in my house can leave, including you. If Simone can’t keep her hands to herself, then yes, she has to leave. It don’t have nothing to do with Marcus,” Mummy Pat exclaimed in her heavy Jamaican Patois.
“It has everything to do with Marcus! You’ve been babying him since we were kids and that’s why he’s a no bumbaclot good now!”
Mummy Pat lurched back and slapped Sheryl across the face. The sound was so loud, Simmy sprang to her feet and rushed between them. The tension was so thick it was like a thick, stifling cloud of polluted air surrounding them, choking them.
“Now. If you both want to leave, then leave.” Mummy Pat gritted her teeth. Simmy saw a fire flashing in her eyes that she’d never seen in her life.
“You don’t know what you just did,” Sheryl huffed, holding her cheek. “You just don’t know.”
Mummy Pat walked out of the room and left Sheryl and Simmy standing there in silence.
“I’m sorry, Simone. I know you’ve always thought that I don’t like you but that is far from the truth. And I know I come off like a bitch and I’ve said some messed-up things to you. But, the truth is, I’ve been hurt all my life, and I don’t know any other way to talk but with pain. You’re gonna leave now but be careful what you get into. Your cousin Jayla is bad news, Simone. If you take anything of what I am saying to you right now, take this: stay away from Jayla. She is going to bring you down.” Having said that, Sheryl walked out of the room.
* * *
Simmy could not stop the tears from running in streams down her cheeks as she paced outside, her bags at the curb, waiting for Jayla to pick her up. She had thought about calling Kyan but decided Jayla was the better choice. She’d heard everything her aunt said to her in the room, but she couldn’t understand why her aunt was so against Jayla. Jayla was the only one who really looked out for her, and she hadn’t given Simmy a reason not to trust her.
Jayla pulled up to the curb, tires squealing. She scrambled out of the car in a fury, her face drawn tight into a frown.
“Where the fuck is that little bum bitch?” Jayla gritted her teeth, heading for the house. “This shit ain’t over.”
Simmy grabbed her arm before she could make it to Mummy Pat’s stoop. “It’s not even worth it, Jay. I don’t want you to get involved. I’m just going to leave and never come back. They showed me where I stand today,” Simmy said, her voice cracking with pain.
“Ew, that makes me so fucking mad.” Jayla punched at the air. “Ain’t shit change in that fucking house but the day and year. Same shit, different day. Mummy Pat always did have her fucking favorites. For some reason that bitch Serita—who, mind you, hasn’t fucking worked or brought a dime in that house in twelve fucking years—always gets a pass. And, forget about Marcus’s weed-head, shiftless, ten-illegitimate-kids-having ass. He can’t do no wrong in the eyes of Patricia Jones. Oh, not her baby fucking boy,” Jayla ranted as she snatched up Simmy’s bags from the curb and tossed them into the trunk.
“I’m so hurt,” Simmy cried, burying her face in her hands. “I’m just so hurt.” Jayla grabbed her around the shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace. “I know, boo. I know,” Jayla comforted her, her jaw rocking feverishly against Simmy’s shoulder as they hugged. “But, in life, things fall apart. You just got to always be ready to put shit back together when they do.”
“She was supposed to be there for me and love me while Mommy and Daddy are gone.” Simmy hiccupped a sob. The pain was evident behind every one of her shaky words. “She actually hit me. She hit me, Jay. She took that girl’s side. She’s not even her blood, and she still took her side. It was my stuff. She took my stuff.”
“Oh, I know how shit goes up in that hell hole, little cousin. Why do you think I’ve been gone? Same thing they used to do to me for years. Just jealous shit. I love Mummy Pat, but she’s definitely got her favorites. That shit will never change, either. You and me, we can’t do no right in their eyes. We are not the chosen ones. Never have and never will be. That’s why we have to make our own way in the world.”
That made Simmy cry harder. Without her parents, her grandmother was really all she had, and now she was gone too.
“Okay. Okay.” Jayla patted her back. “C’mon. Get in. You’re coming to live with me. My house is your house, Simmy. You already know this,” Jayla comforted her. She opened the car door and helped Simmy into the passenger seat.
Simmy swiped hard at her tears and cleared her vision for a few seconds. She looked out of the window at the brownstone one last time before Jayla sped away from the curb.
“You ain’t never coming back here. Fuck that,” Jayla said.
Simmy felt a void open up inside of her like a gaping sinkhole on a street in a Midwestern state. She felt like she’d left a big part of herself behind. She knew from here on out, things would never be the same for her.
Chapter 7
Alone
A fresh coat of snow had blanketed New York City, and the view outside of Jayla’s apartment window resembled a Christmas card. Simmy stood at the window in Jayla’s guestroom, which had become her room for the month and half she’d been staying there. She watched all of the snowflakes fall, wishing she was outside so she could open her mouth and catch a few on her tongue like she used to as a kid. Winter had always been her favorite season. When she was little, her father would take her snow sledding in the large open field at the side of their house. Simmy could remember falling over into the snow and feeling it, cold and wet, against her face.
Simmy also loved winter fashion. She loved fur coats and warm, chunky sweaters, too. But, she hated being stuck in the house. She was missing Kyan something terrible. He’d been upset to learn that she’d moved all the way to Harlem. They definitely couldn’t see each other as much as they did when she was in Brooklyn; and since Simmy had been missing more and more school after the move, Kyan wasn’t happy about that, either. He was concerned that she might not graduate if she kept up like this. She was worried about how much school she’d missed too. And she didn’t like how mad Kyan was about it, but she just couldn’t say no to Jayla. Jayla had done so much to help her out. She felt like she owed it to her to do all the jobs Jayla would have her do.
Her relationship with Jayla had changed since she’d gone to live with her, though. It was a little different now that they shared an apartment and were around each other twenty-four hours a day. When Simmy had first gotten there, Jayla had indulged her, introducing her to the big girl life. Every night they’d hit up a different club in the city. Simmy didn’t know people even partied on Monday and Tuesday nights like that. But the partying got old fast for Simmy. She wasn’t into the partying and drinking all the time. She was more of a homebody. She preferred to just stay in, curl up in a blanket, and read a good book. Whenever she’d get a chance to go see Kyan, they would order takeout and watch movies. She loved that he was homebody too.
Kyan had been trying to convince her to move in with him so she’d be able to make it school, but she didn’t feel comfortable doing that. Jayla was always warning Simmy about not giving a man too much power over her. Jayla told her if she moved in with Kyan, he was most likely going to change up on her and start telling her what to do.
“He’s already doing it to you, and you don’t even see it,” Jayla exclaimed. The two cousins had just come home from doing another job and were sitting in the living room eating pizza.
“No, he’s not,” Simmy replied defensively. She had just revealed to Jayla that Kyan asked her to move in with him.
“Simmy, you need to open your eyes, baby cousin. He asked you to move in because he wants to be able to see everything you’re doing. Didn’t you tell me he’s already riding you about going to school and shit?�
�
“Yes. But that’s different,” Simmy tried to defend her man.
“No, it ain’t. It’s all the same shit, Simmy. He’s trying to tell you what to do with your life. Last time I checked, you only had one daddy, and he’s locked up, so why is Kyan trying to act like he’s your daddy telling you what to do?”
Simmy was at a loss for words. What her cousin was saying made sense. She didn’t want to believe that Kyan was the controlling type but, for the most part, Jayla was right about the things she spoke about.
“Your best bet is to just keep working to get your paper up and keep doing you,” she’d told Simmy.
“Hey,” Jayla called from the doorway. “Going stir crazy?”
Simmy turned toward her cousin. “Pretty much.” She eyed Jayla suspiciously and then brushed her own nose: a signal. Jayla was too high to even catch on.
“Chick, me too. Hate being in this house. Can’t go make no money. Nothing,” Jayla said, although she was grinning.
Simmy cleared her throat. “You have something on your nose,” Simmy said, slightly annoyed.
Embarrassment flashed across Jayla’s face. She brushed her nose vigorously and chuckled nervously. “A little something to chase away the boredom. Completely under control,” she said.
Simmy just nodded, but she didn’t return Jayla’s guilty smile. The cocaine use was just one of many things Simmy had learned about Jayla since being there. The constant parade of different men was another thing that bothered Simmy. Every night there was someone different in Jayla’s bed. It didn’t sit right with Simmy at all. Some nights she was so uneasy about it, she’d just lie awake until she heard Jayla letting the flavor of the night out the apartment door. It shocked Simmy to learn just how much of a mess Jayla was. Simmy had always held her in such high esteem and thought she wanted to be just like Jayla. That had definitely changed.
Simmy was powerless. Until she could save up enough money for a place, she would have to bite her tongue and deal with Jayla’s lifestyle. She’d thought about asking Kyan to help her get a place, but that would just be another thing to make him think he had power over her. It was bad enough he’d found out from one of Jalissa’s friends that Simmy was a high-end booster. He wasn’t happy about it, either. Simmy had gotten defensive and told him not to judge her, just like she hadn’t judged him for selling drugs.
Magic Touch Page 7