Faith reached out and smacked me, catching me off-guard. I held on to my cheek, fuming.
“You’re lying.”
“At first he felt bad, he didn’t want to betray Momma, but I’d climb into Momma’s bed anyway and he couldn’t resist.”
“Shut up, Hope!” Faith started to plug her ears. Tears were pouring down her face. She didn’t want to believe it because she wouldn’t be able to handle it.
“At first it hurt when he started making love to me, but after a while the pain started to feel good and I wanted it.” At this point, I was in her ear and she pushed me away.
“Shut up!”
“I screamed for him to go deeper and he did,” I taunted, knowing my every word was getting underneath my twin’s skin.
“Shut up!”
“‘Oh yes! Oh, John!’” I moaned, knowing each and every word was a punch to her face. I stopped abruptly, waiting for her to move her hands from her ears. When she did, I continued. “I love him. He loves me. You can be upset if you want but you will accept it. And if you tell Momma, I’m cutting you off.”
I walked away, leaving her crying in the cornfield.
I felt victorious. The devil himself would’ve been proud.
Chapter 8
Faith stopped talking to me. She even started to act differently toward him, making sure she kept her distance. I had tried multiple times to start conversations with her, to make her laugh, but nothing worked. It was as if I became nothing to her, as if her opinions of me now mirrored Momma’s. The only thing I could do was wait it out and hope Faith would come around.
After Momma had come home from her hotel, John ended our little relationship. It hurt, but I understood why. He loved my momma even though she didn’t love anyone but Faith and herself. I was too distracted anyway to cry over John. Strange things were happening to my body.
I started to get sick a lot. Momma couldn’t figure out why, but she kept me home from school until the sickness passed. I started to get bloated, irritated, exhausted; my nipples started to get sore, and I didn’t want to eat anything. I walked into the kitchen one day when Momma was making eggs. The smell sent me flying over to the trashcan to throw up. Momma turned me toward her and started examining me. The first thing she did was feel on my stomach.
“You’ve been getting sick lately. You been having sex?”
“No, Momma.”
“Don’t lie to me,” she said. “I been watching all your symptoms. I ain’t stupid, Hope.”
Momma walked over to the drawer in the kitchen she usually keeps random things in and pulled out a box. She then marched over to me, grabbed my arm, and dragged me into the bathroom. She shoved a pregnancy test into my hands while telling me she had bought one a week ago, but was waiting to see if I’d improve before she jumped to conclusions. She unbuckled my jeans and stood back. When I didn’t move quick enough, she started yelling.
“Pee on the dang stick!”
My heart started racing. I slowly pulled my pants down and sat on the toilet. Momma crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.
“Pee on the stick. Don’t make me tell you again,” she said.
I did as she said. Once I was done, she snatched the test and set it on the sink. She picked up the box and read the directions. I zoned out, thinking about the possibility of being pregnant. What would John say? Would he be happy? Would he leave my momma and get us a nice apartment in the city and we’d live happily ever after? I hoped.
Momma smacked me off of the toilet, bringing me back to reality. She had the test in her shaking hand. I stood up, pulling up my pants, trying to escape before she could hit me again. I ran passed her into the living room where John and Faith sat, watching TV. Momma came chasing after me. She grabbed a hold of my hair and yanked me back until I fell on the floor.
“She’s pregnant!” Momma cried. “I knew it would be your fast butt! That’s why I told you that you couldn’t date until you were eighteen. I knew exactly what you’d turn out to be, nasty and disgusting! I wish I never had you!”
Faith ran to my side, helping me to my feet. As soon as she did, she seemed to regret it and went to stand next to our fuming mother. I looked at John, who sat frozen, staring at the pregnancy test in Momma’s shaking hand.
“Which one of these little nappy-headed boys did you sleep with? Huh?” Momma smacked me from behind, causing John to stand up. “Answer me!”
I started crying. Too much had happened in such a short time, I wasn’t even able to understand the extremities of my situation. I was sixteen and pregnant . . . by my momma’s boyfriend. How could I tell her? How could I even raise a baby? I ran straight for John. He always knew what to do, but Momma snatched me back.
“Where you think you going? Huh? Answer the question! Who did your nasty butt lay up with?”
I would’ve loved to see the hurt in my mother’s eyes when I told her the baby was her man’s, but I decided not to tell her, and only for John’s sake. I didn’t want him to get in trouble for having sex with a minor. I’d run away before I told her.
Faith started crying hysterically. “I can’t lie. God said we shouldn’t lie. I can’t do it!” Faith turned to Momma.
“No,” I said, already knowing what she was going to say. “No, Faith! Please don’t tell her!”
Faith ignored me, turning to Momma. I looked back at John, who sat down on the couch with his face buried in his hands.
“It’s John’s baby!” Faith pointed at John accusingly. “She told me she did it to John while you were gone. It’s his baby!”
Momma’s head slowly turned to John and then to me. Her hands clenched at her sides as she slowly inhaled. The pain was evident. And somehow, it made me feel good. I was expecting to feel remorse, pain, regret, but I felt nothing but joy in finally seeing Momma break the way I broke day after day. I thought back to everything she’d ever done to me, every beating, every negative comment, and it added fuel to my fire.
“Yeah, I did it, Momma. I slept with your man. I gave him what you couldn’t.”
Momma shook her head as tears dripped to the floor. “You’re sick. You’re crazy. How could you do that to me, your mother?”
How could I? I did it because John was the only person who loved me the right way. He didn’t judge me, mistreat me, misuse me, throw things in my face, or hurt me. He only loved me, and yes, I may have confused my own feelings because I had never had a man love me, but it was love. Momma was the reason he came, but I was the reason he stayed. He told me he loved me. He said he’d never leave. Maybe I took it the wrong way. Maybe he was only trying to be the father I never had. At the end of the day, we did what we did and, at the time, I didn’t regret a second.
We were going to have a baby. We were going to be a family. My life finally had meaning. I didn’t need my momma or my sister anymore. All I needed was John. And in that moment of clarity, I grew strong before my momma.
“No, you’re sick. It’s all your fault, Momma!” She tried to protest, but I didn’t let her speak. “I’m tired! I’ve been tired since I was a kid. You ain’t never loved me. What have you ever done for me? Huh?”
“I loved you the best I could,” Momma said, seemingly genuine.
“Ha!” I laughed. “You only loved Faith. But that’s neither here nor there. Fact is, I’m pregnant with John’s baby, and there ain’t nothing you can do about it. I’m happy, Momma. Don’t you see? I’m happy! Me and John are gonna get us a nice house and raise our baby.”
Momma laughed through her tears. “You more stupid than you look. You think my man gonna run off with a kid and start a family? He already got a family, right here. Me and Faith. Go ahead, ask him where he gonna stay.”
I turned around to John, who had stood up, sadly staring at both of us; but a decision was clear on his face.
“Go on, ask him.” Momma’s hands were still clenched at her sides.
“John.” I walked up to him, holding my stomach, smiling. “We gonna have a ba
by. We can start a family, a real one.”
“Ask him the question!” Momma shouted.
I swallowed hard. “John? You gonna choose me or Momma?”
John looked up to Momma; he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“John?” I asked, trying to turn his head toward me, but he kept his eyes on Momma. I heard her laugh behind me.
“Go ahead, John, you ain’t stupid. Tell her that you staying right here where you belong. It probably ain’t your baby anyway. She been fast since the day she was born. I’m sure she threw herself at you like the whore she is. Caught you when you were all weak and lonely.”
“John?” I asked again, ignoring Momma. “Tell her. Tell her that the reason you stayed was because of me. Tell her it’s the reason you gonna leave, too.”
John finally looked down at me and shook his head. “Hope, I’m not leaving your mother. I’m sorry,” he finally said.
I heard Momma laugh again.
“But, what about your baby?” I asked in desperation.
John squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain.
“Oh, he ain’t gotta worry about that!” Momma said, yanking me away from John. “’Cause ain’t gonna be no baby. You stupid little wench. You really think I was gonna let you get away with sleeping with my man and have his baby? Heck naw!” She slammed me to the ground. “’Cause I’m gonna beat that baby out of you!”
“No!” I cried, shielding myself from her attack. “John, please!”
Momma kicked me in my stomach repeatedly until the pain faded into numbness. She was too strong for me to fight back. She kept hitting me over and over again, while John and Faith just stood there in a catatonic daze.
Momma grabbed my hair and dragged me out on the front porch and kicked me down the stairs. I landed in dirt, instinctively grabbing my stomach. “No!” I cried out. “Why?”
Momma spat at me. “You ain’t no child of mine. You the devil. That’s why you ain’t never go to church, because the devil can’t step foot in it. I ain’t even know I was having twins until you almost killed your sister in the womb. I had to get a C-section because your hands was closed around your sister’s neck, causing her stress. The doctor laughed and said you was gonna be my problem child. He ain’t never lied. But you ain’t my daughter; you the devil child that was born along with my baby, Faith. You ain’t welcomed back in this house. You won’t be remembered. And since you so grown, go be grown on your own.”
“Faith,” I cried, watching her join Momma on the porch. I reached for my sister with eyes pleading for her to forgive me, to help me, but she just stood there, aloof and without compassion. My twin.
“She ain’t your sister no more,” Momma said, looking down at me in disgust. “She ain’t nothing to you.” Momma started coming toward me and I stood up, quickly backing away while holding out a hand to stop her. Every bone in my body ached. “Get out of here!” she spat.
“John!” I screamed for him, my throat burned from yelling and crying so hard. John said he loved me. He couldn’t do this to me. “John!”
“Ain’t no use screaming for him, he made his decision,” Momma shouted. “Now get! Do I gotta beat you again?”
“I ain’t leaving without John or Faith!” I proclaimed, which earned me a laugh from Momma.
“You gonna be standing out here until you die ’cause ain’t nobody in this house stupid enough to side with a demon.” Momma grabbed Faith’s arm and headed back in the house.
I stood outside, waiting for someone to come back out, to forgive me, to let me back in, but nobody did. John betrayed me. He picked an old, crazy woman over his own baby. But I guessed the devil came in many disguises. I felt disgusted with myself, ashamed. I lost everything when the only thing I was trying to gain was love. I had nothing anymore. No momma, no sister, and no John. And so I ran. I ran until I couldn’t run, and then I walked until I couldn’t do anything but crawl. And somewhere along the way, I started to bleed between my legs. I don’t know how long I crawled, but things started to darken even though the sun still shined. My throat started to constrict, the ground began rolling beneath me, and I was sucked into a deep wave, never quite able to come up for air.
Chapter 9
My body felt heavy, sedated. I tried to move my arms, but could barely manage the slightest movement. I inhaled, cracking my eyes open and quickly shutting them again once the bright white light dared to intrude. My body felt foreign to me. I tried wiggling my feet, and once that was a success, I began stretching out my legs. Eventually, my arms came back to life, and I slowly lifted a hand to wipe my eyes as I tried to adjust to the white light above.
I heard a door open and close, and then a hand softly pressed against my shoulder. “Please rest, honey, let the drugs wear off.”
I turned to meet the voice. I could barely make out her face through all the sleep in my eyes. But her smile was big and reassuring. “Where am I?” I croaked.
“You’re in the hospital, sweetie. You’ve been here two days.”
“Why?”
“You were found unconscious and badly beaten on the side of the road. The doctors suspect you’d been lying out there for at least twenty-four hours. You were extremely dehydrated and in shock . . . and there’s one more thing.” I could now make out her face perfectly. She was a pretty white lady, mid-thirties, with sparkling gray eyes, brown hair, and a friendly smile. She was genuine and I liked her from the start. “You had a miscarriage.”
My heart sank deep into my stomach. I gasped for air, grabbing at the white sheets at my side. My baby . . . John’s baby . . .
Momma said she’d beat it out of me, and she didn’t lie.
I felt the tears begin to threaten my resolve. “Okay,” was all I managed to say.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she said, rubbing my shoulder. “I need to ask you some very important questions. It’s procedure.”
I nodded, not able to say much. All I could do was try to keep the pain inside. I’d save the misery for another day.
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
She removed her hand from my shoulder and began jotting down notes on a pad I’d just now realized occupied her other hand.
“Name?”
“Hope Williams.”
“Where do you live?”
I blinked in response, caught off-guard. She eyed me patiently and I watched as her happy eyes darkened as she understood my unspoken words. She chose her next words carefully.
“How long have you been homeless?”
“Not long. My momma kicked me out and then I started walking and passed out.” I looked around the hospital room. “And now I’m here.”
The nurse’s eyes never left mine. “Was it your mother who beat you?”
“No,” I lied; it was instinct. Even when Momma hated me, I still protected her. I knew they’d probably put her in jail, charge her for murder, but she was still my momma. And somewhere in my heart, in some small corner, I loved her. I loved her enough to spare her the conviction she rightly deserved. I also had enough love for her so that if one day she ever decided to love me, there’d be some in return.
“Then who beat you? Do you understand that the police are going to come in here and question you? A serious crime was committed against you. You came in bruised, beaten, and bloody. Whoever hurt you made you lose your baby. That’s murder!”
And the tears came, like a flood splashing down my face. “My baby . . .” I wasn’t even given the chance to bask in the thought of a baby. I wasn’t given the opportunity to smile and be happy or to regret it. I didn’t get the chance to rub my stomach and smile, to talk to my baby, to think of names, to wonder if it was a boy or a girl. I didn’t get the chance to make a promise to myself to be better to my baby than my mother was to me.
I finally had something to call my own. The best gift in the world. The one that would replace all the gifts I never got on my birthday or holidays. I lost my chance to be happy, to be loved.
�
��Who did this to you?” the nurse asked again.
I could’ve told her the truth. In fact, a big part of me wanted to make Momma pay for everything she ever did to me. A part of me wanted revenge on John, for denying me and my baby. A part of me wanted Faith to lose everything she loved, so that she could see how I felt. But even though Faith rejected me, I loved her too much to hurt her more than I already had. She was another reason I said nothing.
“I don’t know who did it. It was a group of people.” I looked the nurse right in her eyes and didn’t blink. I could tell she believed me because she saddened and backed away. It was the best lie I ever told.
As the nurse had promised, the police officer visited me, questioning everything about me: who I was; where I lived; if I had any relatives who could get me; who attacked me; if I wanted to press charges and file a report. Everything. And of course I lied. I gave false names and false addresses.
He said that children services would be by later to pick me up because I was being discharged from the hospital. But by the time they came to get me, I was already gone.
For three nights, I slept on a park bench in the city. Freezing and shivering in my sleep. Jumping awake at the slightest noise knowing nothing could be safe about the city. I wasn’t trying to get raped or killed. Multiple times I had thought about praying to God, wondering if He would actually hear the cries of His sinners. Faith had told me once that God turns a deaf ear to the wicked. So I didn’t bother praying.
I constantly replayed in my head the image of Momma’s shocked face when I told her I was pregnant by John. I always skipped over the part where I got beat, and losing my baby. Something about seeing Momma’s pain made me sleep better on cold nights. Maybe it was because I liked knowing that I wasn’t the only one suffering. I hoped then that she cried just thinking about it. I hoped she kicked John out so that he ended up with nothing, just like me. I thought he was a good man, and maybe he was, but one bad decision can ruin a person’s image. I could’ve said the same for myself.
Under the Peach Tree Page 7