That Girl Is Poison

by Tia Hines

“Yeah, I wish. Nothing’s ever all right for me.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s the truth. I don’t have a place to live, I don’t have any money, and I’m pregnant.”

  “You’re pregnant?”

  “Yes,” I answered, ashamed. “I didn’t mean to get pregnant though. I was”—I started boohooing.

  “Okay, okay, we can get through this. Don’t cry. How many months are you?”

  “Four, five months, I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “No, I mean yes . . . well not really.”

  “Desire, why? What are you doing? What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What’s Frank’s phone number?” He picked up the phone.

  “No, don’t call them, please.”

  “Desire, you have to go back home.”

  “No, I can’t. My aunt, she won’t let me back since I ran away.”

  “You ran away?”

  “Yes, I told you I’m pregnant.”

  “But what does that have to do with you running away?”

  “Because my aunt told me don’t ever step foot in her house pregnant.”

  “I’m pretty sure they are worried sick about you.”

  “Believe me, they’re not. I called them already.”

  “What’s the number?”

  “They don’t know I’m pregnant.”

  “I kind of figured that.”

  He paced the floor like he had just heard the worst news of his life. He picked up Greg’s picture and stared at it.

  “Give me the number, Desire. I promise I won’t mention that you’re pregnant, okay. I just need to let them know you’re with me. You may think they don’t care about where you are, but they do.”

  He thought he knew, y’all, but he didn’t know the half. Since he was promising not to mention my pregnancy, I went ahead and decided to trust him. After all, he was my father, and he did seem to be genuine.

  He dialed and got through. I was sure it was about to be “bad-mouthing Desire time.” I knew they weren’t going to have anything good to say about me.

  While he talked, I settled in. I had calmed my nerves a bit but not too much because I knew the phone conversation was going to throw salt in my game.

  After my father got off the phone after a long conversation with Uncle Frank and Auntie Linda, he laid the law down. He told me every detail about my behavior. He mentioned everything from punishment, to whuppin’s, to stealing my aunt’s money. And he was not a happy camper. I was the bad person from that point on.

  He didn’t even know my full side of the story. He didn’t bother to ask, and I didn’t bother to tell either. I figured it was a battle I’d never win. I had to remember, he was the parent and I was the child. Come on now y’all. He didn’t know why I did the things I did. I had good reason for most of it. For the other half, I was still trying to figure out why. Shit, some things were for attention, others were “just because.”

  “When is the last time you’ve been to school?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Listen to me and listen to me good. Don’t think you’re going to get over here and do what you want ’cause I can’t deal with that buckwild stuff. I am going to get you a tutor so you can catch up with your schoolwork. You’re not allowed to go anywhere without my permission. You cannot have friends over without my permission. All I ask is that you be respectful and responsible. I don’t know what you call yourself doing at Frank’s house, but you won’t get away with it here. The decision is yours. You can reside in my home and follow these simple rules, or go back to what you may feel was a hellhole and snake it out.”

  James was serious, and since I had a little bit of sense, I decided to stay with him. A part of me wanted to leave, but I had nowhere to go. I definitely wasn’t going back to the dungeon house or the streets. I was staying where I was. I had to follow rules some way or another.

  He didn’t have to take me in. Then again, yeah, he did. I was his only daughter. The one he didn’t care to father in the early years or even mention to his son, my deceased best friend. It was only right he took me in.

  Chapter 18

  I got home tutoring for the remainder of the school year. I progressed well too. I made it to the ninth grade, thank God. It was looking like summer school, but I got the job done. So for the summer, I was school-free. I was indoors all day every day. My father didn’t want me to go anywhere as my due date was slowly but surely approaching.

  Jen and I kept in touch. He allowed her to visit here and there. I didn’t speak to my aunt or uncle. It was like they never existed. Oh well. At that time, that’s what it needed to be, I guess. I was a little disappointed that my uncle didn’t call and check up on me.

  Now that I think about it, it was probably a good idea that he didn’t. He would have asked what I had been up to. Then what was I going to say? Oh nothing, just sitting around waiting to have my baby. Yeah, right. He didn’t know I was pregnant, and he wasn’t going to know.

  Staying with my dad was like hideout season for me. No school, a tutor, no friends except Jen. No family except him. I’m grateful he took me in and all, but that’s all it was. He provided me with food, shelter, and an education. We hardly talked. Shoot, we barely uttered a word to each other, unless necessary. So much for building a relationship with him.

  By my eighth month in July, he got rid of me. He shipped me down South in the care of other family, his sister to be exact. He wanted her to deliver the baby at what he claimed was the best hospital in South Carolina. I couldn’t complain or say no.

  The day before I left for Greenville, South Carolina, I snuck out and decided to pay my baby’s daddy, Malik, a visit. I hadn’t heard, spoke to or even mentioned him since the day I had gone to confess my pregnancy to him. I’d heard through the grapevine that he had been accepted to Alabama State down in Montgomery, Alabama. He was due to leave for school in the next month or so, and I wanted to catch him before he left.

  I should have probably not even bothered though. The thought of visiting him should have remained just that, a thought. My girl Jen tagged along with me over to his house.

  “Well, if it isn’t Prego and Flo-Jo!”

  “Well, if it isn’t the already deadbeat baby daddy,” Jen responded.

  “I don’t recall having any kids,” he said.

  Jen pointed to my stomach to remind him.

  “Man, I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

  “You created the problem,” I said.

  “You let me.”

  “Actually, she’s too young to let you. You took advantage of her. There is something called statutory rape.”

  “Bitch, please!”

  “Who you calling a bitch? You disease-infested muthafucka! I ain’t Desire. I don’t bite my tongue for nobody. I’ll—”

  I put my hand over Jen’s mouth. “I just want to know if you’re going to have something to do with the baby.”

  “No.”

  Jen blurted removing my hand from covering her mouth. “What the fuck you mean, no?”

  “Just what I said, bitch!” He violated in Jen’s face.

  I balled up my fist and muscled up the nerve to hit Malik with a powerful blow to his left eye. He swung his fist to hit me back, but Jen stepped in the way. He jabbed her in the shoulder as she threw a kick to his stomach. He caught her leg and held it, and she struggled to get loose. I tried to shake him off without getting hit in my stomach.

  Then, out of nowhere, my father appeared and sent Malik flying to the ground.

  “Damn, Uncle Jim! I didn’t mean to hit her.”

  “I ain’t your uncle, you little punk. And, you, what are you doing here? You didn’t have permission to leave the house, and I follow you and find you here chasing behind a boy, this boy at that.”

  The attention was all on me now. I just looked at my father speechless ’cause I knew I was in trouble. He had asked the right question to
o. What the hell was I doing at Malik’s house? I had unfinished business, but of course, he didn’t know that. How would he know? We never discussed who I was pregnant by. He’d never asked, and I had never volunteered the information. He was about to know now though, with the help of Jen, since I couldn’t find the words to tell the story myself.

  “Malik’s her baby daddy,” Jen blurted.

  My father gave me this odd look and then extended his focus to Malik, who put his head down.

  “Plain and simple, do you plan on being in this baby’s life?”

  “I don’t know if it’s mine.”

  “What?” Jen blurted.

  “You were the only nasty dog she was sleeping with.”

  Malik lashed out at Jen. “Shut up!”

  My father moved closer to Malik, snatched him up by his shirt, and got all up in his grill.

  “I’m sure you can’t give a damn about this baby right now and that’s all right because that’s how you operate. One thing I won’t allow is you lying to my face. I’ve known you for too long, and there is no doubt in my mind that you are the father of this child. Therefore, I expect you to do the right thing whether you want to or not. There is no choice to be made because I made the decision for you. You will be notified as well as your mother when the baby is born. Got it?”

  “Yeah, man, I got it.”

  My father released him, and we went on our merry way. I walked away with no looking back at Malik. Me, Jen, and my dad got in his car and drove off. I felt a bit relieved that my father took a stand for me. The moment kind of reminded me of the first time I’d met Greg.

  “So, Desire, I hope you don’t think that just because I stuck up for you back there, you’re let off the hook. You just earned yourself a school year in South Carolina. Boston is not for you. You have too much drama here.”

  I didn’t say anything. I was stuck on why I let myself get involved with the son of a bitch Malik anyway, despite Greg’s advice. I was told to stay away, but my hardheaded ass didn’t listen.

  “This is the bed you made, and guess what? You’re lying in it alone.”

  Chapter 19

  It was South Carolina here I come. I rode on that Amtrak train for hours and can surely say never again. I had butt sores from sitting so long. Luckily, I didn’t go into labor from being stressed out during the ride.

  For the long, boring ride it was, it gave me time to think. At a young age, it’s sad to say, but I had tons of shit to think about. I was still juggling with the pain of being abandoned and wondering why my mother never bothered to check up on me. It hurt not knowing why. Shit, it hurt not knowing why to a lot of things in my life. Why was I pregnant at thirteen? Why did I act out for attention? Why did I yearn for love outside of where it was being given?

  I sailed through that train ride in deep thought, on the verge of tears, but I was strong enough to hold them back. As I thought about my life though, I could think of nothing good. The only moment worthwhile at the time was finding my father.

  When I arrived at the train station, my father’s brother Jarret, aka Juggie, greeted me on the platform. He was a character. As soon as I stepped off the train, this guy with silver fronts came running toward me smiling, a tilted yellow Kangol on his head. Of course, I had no idea this was going to be my uncle. But I caught on after he grabbed a hold of me, hugging me. He hugged me so tight, I felt like I was being flattened.

  “I’m yo’ Uncle Jarret, but call me Juggie, Uncle Juggie.”

  “Okay,” I whispered, suffering from the pressure of his hug.

  He let go when he heard me speak. I guess he figured out that I was two seconds away from being breathless.

  “I’m sorry, kid. I’m ’bout to kill yah befo’ yah meet yah kin folk.”

  I laughed at his comment, while pointing to my bags. He grabbed all three of them, and we made our way to his pickup truck.

  His ride was a character too. He was styling in a gray, pint-sized Ford Ranger with silver spinning rims. Not bad for an older man. I got the hint that silver was his color, and that he clearly wasn’t a broke uncle.

  “You like my ride?”

  “It’s nice.”

  “Nice?” he screeched, jerking his head back. “Girl, you see dem silva twennies?”

  I laughed.

  “Ya betta ask somebody,” he joked.

  He helped me in the truck, and we made our way down the road. We had little conversation while listening to the radio play the latest hits. It took about twenty minutes or so to get to my Aunt Millie’s house, which was where I was gonna stay.

  Boy, was she the aunt from Comedy Central. That lady was hilarious. She was a trip with her alcoholic behind. She greeted me with open arms, sipping her Hennessy the entire time. She was a functioning alcoholic, I tell you. And she was supposed to be delivering my baby?

  I had my first visit with a midwife at one of the local clinics, and all went well. She was the last doctor I had to see before my due date. She was also the backup deliverer to my Aunt Millie ’cause if my aunt was drunk, she was delivering no baby of mine. I made sure of that. I had enough to worry about anyway, especially since that HIV thing was worrying the hell out of me.

  I had blocked it out of my mind, but my visit to the midwife rekindled the issue. She was pressing me to take a test, but I kept declining. I told her I had already taken one, the results were negative, and there was no need for another. Besides, it was optional anyway. She was pissing me off ’cause she was nagging me about it. I didn’t want it. What about that didn’t she get? I told the bitch point-blank to back off, and she left it alone. But she sure resurrected some old wounds.

  I thought heavily about having HIV and passing it to my child. I thought about Greg dying, and my mother being gone. And I was missing Uncle Frank. My mind was just cluttered. I could hardly sleep at night. I was so bothered that every night, at the same time, I got up and paced the floor. It got so bad that my cousins started calling me the pregnant zombie.

  The stress and the late nights lasted for about a week and a half. Then my baby boy was kicking to come out. This was when I experienced the live definition of contractions. Oh, that pain was excruciating. Talk about a new form of cramps. I was in so much pain, I couldn’t even cry.

  My aunt was too drunk to deliver the baby, so the midwife had to step in. Good thing, ’cause my aunt ended up passing out. She missed my entire delivery of a seven-pound chocolate drop baby boy.

  I was scared half to death when I first saw my son. I almost told the nurse I didn’t want to hold him, but I held him anyway. As she placed him in my arms, I got this cold chill that ran up my spine. It was real. It had happened. I had given birth to a baby boy.

  He was the spittin’ image of his father, who I grew to hate with a passion. I started thinking heavy about how naïve I was when it came to Malik. Then it hit me, the HIV thing. I looked at my newborn son and a chill ran through my spine again. He looked so innocent with his green eyes, but he wasn’t. He was infected with something deadly, and his father was to blame. That low-down, dirty bastard. He had me wanting to toss my newborn. I had a bad feeling my baby boy was going to follow in his daddy’s footsteps, and it scared me. The chances of it happening were so high. Every time I looked at him, fear settled. I just kept thinking, My baby boy is doomed. He’s done for life. He’s his father’s child.

  As I stared into his eyes, tears began to surface. The nurse must have been watching me because she immediately interrupted my teary-eyed moment.

  “Aw, it’s all right, sugar. Lemme get ’im cleaned fo’ ya. Whatcha gon’ name ’im?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have a name when you bring him back.”

  “A’ight now, you gon’ an’ make a good pick, an’ I’ma bring ’im right back.”

  The nurse brought him back within the next twenty minutes. I still hadn’t figured out a name yet, but that was far from my mind. She handed him back to me, and my ill feelings toward him resurfaced. I couldn’t shake the
fear for anything. It was as if bad news was sitting at the base of my spine and slowly rising to the top. Then, once it reached its peak, it burst into flames, leaving me scared to want my baby.

  I started to think about not being able to care for my boy, especially with his disease. How would I explain to him that he had something deadly? I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it. I held him in my arms and stared at him for a long time. I cried when I thought about what I had made up my mind to do. I kissed him repeatedly and told the nurse to take him, while I got myself cleaned up.

  My aunt and the rest of the family had gone for the night, leaving me with congratulation cards full of money. I received over two hundred dollars for having a baby I didn’t want and had no intentions of keeping.

  Around 3:00 A.M., the morning after I had my baby, I got my things, took my money out of each card, and snuck out of the hospital. I wanted nothing to do with my newborn son or my newfound family. They were good to me, which was great, but Boston was my home. That’s where I belonged.

  Once I left the hospital, I erased from my mind that I had just given birth to a baby boy. I got me a bus ticket, and I was on my way back home. I paid a homeless man twenty dollars to buy me a ticket, since I was too young to purchase it on my own.

  I was excited about going back to my hellhole, the place I had run away from in the beginning, but things were different now. Time had passed. I wasn’t pregnant anymore and had no evidence to show that I ever was. I was good to go. I was ready to renew my relationship with my aunt and uncle. I wanted to see if I could make things right somehow. She was mean, but maybe she’d changed. I was hoping this would be my chance for a new beginning.

  I boarded the Greyhound and began my journey back home. It was an okay ride, until the bus got all the way to New York City and broke down. I was four hours away from home and look what had to happen. I was ready to get off that damn bus. I had taken enough abuse, shacked up with drunks, homeless people, and fake Hollywood stars.

  The bus had been broken down for about three hours, and that was it. I couldn’t sit still anymore. I decided to give it a thumb up and hitch a ride home. Yes, y’all, I did it. I hitchhiked like a fool.