“Child,” Maxine said, hitting Trena on the hip, “you better watch your tone and hold those eyes still in your head or you will be sorry.”
Trena again rolled her eyes.
Maxine again hit Trena on the hip. “Okay, I see what I need to do. I need to see about changing my hours so that I can be home to neutralize your fresh behind. Your sister told me what you’ve been up to with Omar. I’m not having it. You will not behave like a slut in my house.”
“So now I’m a slut?”
“Trena, don’t be putting words in my mouth. The bottom line is, you had best get your act together, young lady. Do you understand me?”
Without even giving her mother the courtesy of a glance, Trena pushed roughly past Cheryl, shoving her into the banister.
“Hey!” Cheryl gripped the banister to keep from tumbling down the stairs.
“Trena!” Maxine raced up the stairs behind her. At the door to Trena’s bedroom, Maxine caught up with her. She snatched Trena around. “You—”
“Let go of me!” Trena jerked hard enough to pull herself out of Maxine’s grasp.
“Trena! You talking to me like this? You really are out of control. You almost knocked your sister down the stairs, and now you think you’re grown enough to sass me?”
Cheryl rushed up the stairs to stand beside Maxine. She jabbed her finger at Trena. “I’m gonna kick your ass!”
“Go for it!” Trena shoved Cheryl’s hand out of her face. They started to tussle.
“Both of you, stop it!” Maxine grabbed Cheryl by the waist and yanked her back. Trena advanced on Cheryl. Maxine shoved her hard into the wall.
“Trena! Stop it! Now!”
Trena was breathing hard. “She put her hand in my face! You didn’t say nothin’ to her!”
“Trena, you almost knocked your sister down the stairs.”
“I could’ve been killed!”
“I wish you had broken your damn neck!” Trena started to push past Maxine to get into her room.
Maxine grabbed onto Trena’s shoulders, holding her against her will. “Have you lost your damn mind?”
“Get offa me!”
“Trena, you don’t talk to me like that!” Maxine’s spittle sprayed Trena’s face.
Trena strained to pull back as far from Maxine as possible. “You’re talking to me like you want to.”
“See, Mom,” Cheryl said. “See how fresh she is. I told you. This is how she’s been acting.”
Trena tried twisting herself free. “Shut the fuck up, Cheryl, and get the hell—”
Slap! The hard, stinging slap caught Trena across the mouth, silencing her words. Trena gulped in air as she brought her hand to her cheek. Tears sprang up in her eyes.
Maxine grabbed a chunk of Trena’s arm and pinched her.
“Ouch!”
“Trena, you don’t curse anyone in this house! You are not supposed to be cursing any goddamn way.”
“How come you don’t ever hit Cheryl?” Trena asked, rubbing her bruised arm.
“Because Cheryl hasn’t done anything wrong, Trena! You’re the one that’s showing your ass. And I am telling you right now, I will not put up with you cursing, coming in this house whenever the hell you feel like it, or with you wearing skirts up your fresh ass or blouses barely covering your breasts. In other words, Trena, you are not going to run wild in my house!”
Tears rushed down Trena’s cheeks. “You’re always taking Cheryl’s side against me.” Trena rammed her body up against her bedroom door, shoving it open. She barreled inside.
Maxine stayed on Trena’s heels. “No, Trena, it’s not about taking sides. I’m trying to get you to see that you don’t call the shots. You are not the adult in this house. You’ve always been spoiled. It’s my fault for giving you too much. When I couldn’t be here for you, your sister has been here doing for you like you were her own. You should be grateful to have a sister like Cheryl.”
“I hate Cheryl!” Trena flopped down on her bed.
“Fine, you can hate me all you want,” Cheryl said, her voice sounding hoarse. “I don’t care.”
“Good! Because I’m gonna always hate you.”
“That’s it!” Maxine stuck her finger in Trena’s face, touching the tip of her nose. “Not another word out of your mouth, young lady! Not another damn word.”
Holding her head stiffly, Trena poutingly folded her arms across her chest, pushing her breasts up higher, exposing her cleavage more.
“Trena, your nasty ass attitude and your foul ass mouth has gotten your tail in serious trouble. You will not step foot out of this room until Monday morning to go to school. You will not use the telephone or the television. In fact, Cheryl, get that television and that telephone out of here.”
“Whatever. I don’t care,” Trena mumbled.
Cheryl went for the telephone.
Maxine hovered above Trena. “You will care when you have to come straight home from school each and every day, and when school is over in three weeks for all of your friends, you will still be going to school. Your grades aren’t that good, young lady. You could benefit from summer school.”
“I don’t care.”
“Oh, by the time I finish with you, miss, you will care. I guarantee you that.”
Cheryl wrapped the cord around the base of the telephone. “Mom, you’re wasting your breath. Trena doesn’t care about anything. And that’s her problem.”
“You just wait, Cheryl, I’m gonna kick your behind!”
“Trena! You will not touch your sister. Do you hear me?”
“Well, she keep botherin’ me. I am gonna kick her butt.”
Maxine flat-palmed Trena on the forehead, snapping her head back.
“Ow!” Trena was getting tired of being hit.
“You’re not going to do any such thing,” Maxine said. “You hear me?”
“How come you keep hittin’ me?” Trena’s eyes watered.
“Because your tail is out of control. But that’s all right, Miss Trena, I know what to do with you. These clothes you’re wearing, they’re going out with the trash. You will throw out, this night, every piece of rag you bought behind my back that I . . . In fact, I’m going to throw them out myself.”
Maxine went to the closet. She began pulling clothes hangers apart one by one, inspecting the clothes that hung from them. A short black leather skirt she yanked off its hanger and tossed onto the floor.
“No!” Trena sprang off the bed. She snatched the skirt off the floor. “Mom, please don’t throw away my leather!”
Maxine tried to snatch the skirt out of Trena’s clutches. Trena held onto the skirt for dear life.
“Let go, Trena. This is not a game. I am not playing with you. You’ve lost all privileges in this house. And if you don’t get your act together, I will call the juvenile division of social services or the Department of Corrections, or whatever agency that has jurisdiction over bad ass, delinquent kids, and have them put your tail in a disciplinary school until your age catches up with your attitude.”
Sullen and defiant, Trena set her jaw. I’m not going nowhere.
“I promise you, Trena, you will not stay under my roof and make my life a living hell. Maybe a boot camp is the place for you.”
Trena stopped tugging on the skirt. The threat of being sent to a boot camp was not an idle one because her mother knew about Kathy Bailey and had applauded Kathy’s parents for “doing the right thing.” Kathy lived across the street and was a friend since seventh grade. Last year, Kathy’s parents put her away for six months. Kathy said she was treated like a convict. Worst of all, the counselors were up in her face, bad breath and all, screaming on her, threatening her all the time. Kathy said that the food was nasty, the clothes were ugly, and that she had to go to bed every night at eight o’clock sharp and get up every morning at five. Kathy couldn’t even go to the bathroom without permission.
No, Trena wasn’t about to let her mother put her away. She let go of the skirt. She went ba
ck to the bed and sat. She no longer cared that Cheryl had disconnected her telephone, or that her mother was emptying her closet. She wasn’t planning on being here.
“You will not spend my hard-earned money on garbage that would shame a harlot. Do you understand me, Trena? You will not walk around here dressed like some tramp in heat. I will take you shopping myself from now on, and if I have to dress your fresh behind every morning myself, I will.”
No, you won’t.
“I guarantee you, Trena, you will leave this house looking like a vestal virgin.”
No, I won’t.
“And if you think you’re going to sneak and change your clothes after you leave this house, think again. I will be checking on you when you least expect it. You won’t know when or where, but I will know what you are wearing every minute of the day. Whether you want to or not, you will get your act together, young lady, or you will answer to me.”
I ain’t scared of you. You can’t do a damn thing to me. Trena rolled her eyes just as Maxine looked back at her.
“Trena, you roll your eyes at me one more time,” Maxine said, pointing her finger, “I am going to slap your head right off your neck.”
Try it. I’ll call the cops on you.
“That’s your problem, you’re too damn fresh.” Maxine continued to pull clothes from the closet. “You need to be concentrating on your schoolwork and what the hell you wanna do in life, instead of thinking about those knuckleheaded young hugger-muggers out there. That’s another thing, the next time you call yourself dating, you will be as old as I am.”
That’s what you think.
“And keep looking at me like that, hear? I’ll pluck your eyes right out of your head.”
Cutting her eyes away, Trena fixed her eyes on the doorknob. She closed her ears, she closed her mind to all that was coming out of her mother’s mouth. She knew what she had to do. She had to bide her time until she could sneak out of the house. Hopefully, that would be tomorrow. She was going to run away. She couldn’t wait to get the hell away from Cheryl. Cheryl and her mother both were going to be sorry for the way they treated her. They were going to be real sorry.
Twelve
Standing at the window, just out of sight behind the partially opened blinds, Trena watched Maxine and Cheryl get into the car. They were probably going food shopping as was their usual Saturday morning routine. When they left the house, they probably thought she was asleep. She wasn’t. In fact, she hadn’t been to sleep at all. Although she had lain down, she had been too upset to sleep. Her mind had been in overdrive trying to figure out where she was going to go. She could hide out at Alyson’s for the weekend, but Alyson’s mother knew her mother and would question her staying past Sunday afternoon. Besides, Alyson’s apartment would be the first place her mother would call. If she hooked up with Bebe, Bebe’s mother and father might wonder why she was there past Sunday also, but she had to go somewhere.
Maxine and Cheryl drove off.
Figuring that they would be gone at least two hours, Trena began to quickly pack a bag. The first thing she grabbed was her telephone book. She wasn’t about to help Cheryl or her mother find her. Since her mother had taken her favorite outfits out of her closet, and even the outfit she had on last night, Trena was left only with jeans, slacks, and long skirts. But that was all right, she looked good in all her clothes. Sure that she had just what she needed, Trena stuffed, squeezed, and zipped everything inside the bag.
She didn’t waste a sentimental moment looking over her room or waste any brain cells trying to compose a good-bye note. Her father she would miss, but he was rarely home anyway. He never seemed to miss her. Her mother and, in particular, Cheryl, she hoped to never see again in life. They were both trying to keep her from becoming a woman. Well, no more. Her life was her own. Twenty-three dollars and eighty-seven cents wasn’t much to start out on, but it would have to do. Trena threw her heavy, overstuffed bag over her shoulder, grabbed her denim jacket, and walked out of her mother and Cheryl’s house.
Thirteen
Saturday night was the night to be at The Brooklyn Café. Not that the music was any better, any louder than it was at the Lab, the music was just more static. The pulsating beat enticed many more hot, sweaty bodies onto the dance floor, making each dancer gyrate raunchily until, as a crowd, they climaxed into a multitude of passionately rhythmic organisms. As bad as she was feeling, Trena couldn’t help but pop her fingers and wiggle in her seat to the heart thumping music. She had hidden out in Alyson’s room all day, jumping into the closet if Alyson’s mother came within two feet of Alyson’s bedroom door. Luckily, Mrs. Hicks didn’t usually trespass in Alyson’s space so for the most part Trena was safe from detection. That is, except for the seven or eight times her own mother called looking for her. Mrs. Hicks called Alyson to the telephone each time, but Alyson never gave her up. It took a minute for Trena to figure out that her mother was getting her friends’ telephone numbers from the memory on her cordless telephone.
How long she was going to be able to hide in Alyson’s closet, Trena wasn’t sure. As it was, she had to wait until Mr. And Mrs. Hicks went out before she and Alyson could sneak out of the apartment and make their way to the Café.
“Trena! Guurl,” Bebe dragged a chair from another table to the table where Trena and Alyson were sitting, “your mother called my house five times today looking for you. I think she called the police. You are in a shitload of trouble.”
“Did you tell her anything?” Trena practically shouted. The booming music wouldn’t allow her to whisper.
“Hell, no! I told her I hadn’t heard from you. I put on a real good act, too. I acted like I was worried about you.”
“Good, ’cause I ain’t never going back home.”
Alyson puffed once on her cigarette. “You’d be crazy if you did. Your moms is talking like she’s gonna lock you up in the G Building at Kings County.”
“After what you told me about what happened last night,” Bebe said, “I know that’s right.”
Trena took the cigarette out of Alyson’s hand. “I have got to find a place to hide out.” She puffed on the cigarette. She had tried to smoke twice before and had never taken to it. She handed the cigarette back to Alyson. What she needed was a joint but she couldn’t spend what little money she had.
Alyson wistfully flicked her cigarette into her empty glass. “You haven’t spoken to Omar, yet, huh?”
“I told you, every time I call him, his mother says he’s not home.”
“What’s up with that?” Bebe asked. “Has your mother been calling there?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Trena said. “I didn’t tell Omar’s mother that it was me. I changed my voice and told her that my name was Debbie.”
“That was smart.” Bebe searched the crowd. “Maybe he’ll show up here tonight.”
“I hope so,” Trena said. “I need to get some cash off of him. I’m real low. Bebe, you got any money?”
“At home, I got about fifteen dollars. On me,” she said, sliding her hand inside the pocket of her tight jeans, “I got twelve dollars.”
“Man, Bebe, you more broke than me,” Alyson said. “We don’t even have enough to score some serious weed.”
Bebe pulled her hand out of her pocket. “Hey, my daddy ain’t rich. Just ’cause he’s from Detroit and his last name is Ford don’t mean that Henry was his daddy.”
Alyson and Trena both laughed. “Girl, you so crazy,” Trena said.
“She’s sick.” Alyson chuckled. She dropped her burned out cigarette into her glass. “But seriously, Trena. What you goin’ do?”
Trena shrugged. “I guess I’m gonna have to live on the streets. Kids do it every day.”
“Oh, boo.” Bebe scooted closer to Trena and put her arm around her. “You can’t live on the street. You don’t even like using a public toilet.”
Trena frowned. “Girl, those things are nasty.”
Alyson raised her hand to Trena for a high five. “I
know that’s right.”
Trena obliged her friend with an enthusiastic high five, although inside she quivered fretfully. She couldn’t let on how scared she really was. There was nowhere for her to go that she wouldn’t, in the end, be returned to her mother, or worse, be put away. At least for tonight, she prayed that she could sneak back into Alyson’s room without getting caught.
“Okay,” Alyson said, “let’s put our heads together. We’re your girls, Trena, we got your back. We’ll come up with something.”
The three of them put their fingertips to their temples, trying to think, but the music wouldn’t let them concentrate. The pulsating beat took hold of them. One by one they started to pop their fingers and sway to the music. They went with the beat.
“Ha . . . a!” Bebe sang, really getting into the music.
“Par . . . ta!” Alyson shouted.
Getting into the groove, Trena laughed. It was party time. “Let’s dance.” She’d worry about her problem later. “Where’re the boys?”
Alyson and Bebe stood also.
Someone tapped Trena on the shoulder just as she was about to dance away from the table. She looked back. She smiled. It was her new friend.
“Jeanette, what’s up?”
“You. I’ve been looking for you all evening. How’s it going?”
“Just partyin’ with my girls.”
“Hey, Jeanette,” Alyson said.
“I don’t know you,” Bebe said, “but hey, Jeanette.”
“Hi, girls.” Jeanette smiled, but it was Trena she was there to see. “Trena, you got a minute? I’d like to talk to you—alone.”
“Me? What about?”
“What we talked about last night. You got a minute?”
Trena looked at Alyson and Bebe. Alyson shrugged. Bebe finger-waved at Trena and danced away. Alyson followed.
Jeanette saw no need to small-talk. “How’s it going at home?”
“How come you asked me that?”
“Just something I picked up on last night. I was worried about you.”
“Why?”
“It’s pretty bad for you at home, right?”
The Honey Well Page 8