by Lena Scott
Nobody would understand her devastation over the loss of her mother’s house, but she was going nuts behind this, with nobody picking up the phone when she called, or when they did, not answering direct questions. Folks were acting like Javina Nation didn’t have nothing to do with that house on Appaloosa Way.
“My mother owned that house,” she told one lady after a slew of redirected calls. She didn’t even know what department the woman worked in, but the woman was clicking stuff and looking stuff up. She even had the nerve to argue with Unique about the house.
“No, maybe you have the wrong damn address. How I’ma have the wrong address to my mama’s own damn house?” Unique argued back. “I am calm . . . as calm as I can be. The house got blown up, lady. Do you not hear me? Shit! Put somebody on the phone that can hear me with some understanding, because you are talking crazy to me. I don’t know no Mr. Sinclair or whoever you are talking about. No, no, no, you got it wrong. My baby sister’s name is Sinclair. Maybe my mama put the house in her name, which would be crazy, but you know, I don’t know.”
Unique thought about that possibility now. What if the house was in Sinclair’s name? She was Mama’s favorite, after all. But if she knew how much Sinclair cared about it, she’d be regretting that choice right now. Sinclair is already acting like hadn’t nothing happened, hitting the streets with her friends.
Unique was thinking this because, when she got home the day before, she caught a crackhead trying all the doorknobs of all the apartments. When he saw her, he ran off. Thank goodness because, sho’ nuff, her door was unlocked. Sinclair didn’t come in for a couple of hours, dragging up from the bus stop with that boy Malcolm from the P. I shoulda just went off on her ass right then. She needs to let the P go now. Them folks don’t care about her. All she needs to care about is the house.
Sinclair was careless, and in Unique’s mind, this arrangement wasn’t gonna work. Sinclair didn’t even realize how much shit needed to be done now about the mess there on Appaloosa Way.
And somehow it’s all fallen on me. Damn! Unique knew she needed to go by there and see what was what, but she had things to do. She was way too busy. You would think somebody else would help with stuff. But nobody knows how to do nothin’! Where the hell is Tanqueray?
The day before Unique had lugged all her kids all the way down to the welfare office, only to find out that her social worker was out sick. She was told to come back the next day.
“Can’t y’all call somebody? Daaaamn!” Unique screeched at the receptionist, who couldn’t care less. “You act like I got bus fare and shit.”
The woman handed Unique a book of bus tickets and looked around her to the next person in line.
“I’m not cooking no damn breakfast again this morning and doing all that shit. I don’t give a care what they think,” Unique said to herself. She stepped from the shower and wiped the steam off the mirror. I’m so sick of this welfare shit. You just don’t know. Stupid, weak jobs that go nowhere. I need to get myself back in school. If I get a degree . . .” She stared at the face that told the lie. “You ain’t gon’ do shit,” her reflection responded, killing her pleasant mood.
Sliding into her robe that Sinclair had returned to the hook, she moved out of the bathroom and into the kitchen to cook breakfast, repeating her actions from the morning before. The social worker would always ask the children what they’d eaten for breakfast, when was the last time they’d been spanked, all kinds of shit like that.
It was the price Unique had to pay for being a teenage mother. But Unique had learned a lot since the age of thirteen. She’d learned how to work the system, and been doing it for a long time. Having Marquis at thirteen hadn’t left her with much opportunity to learn much else.
Then a year later, Cammie came. Unique thought for sure she was gonna get married to Cammie’s daddy, but at fourteen, come on, especially with her messing with Gina’s daddy on the side, who was an older man, and really seemed to care.
She had Gina when she was sixteen. That’s when Mama actually realized she and Gina’s daddy had been messing around. Gina’s daddy, who was the custodian at school disappeared after that.
But it was when she got pregnant with Apple that Mama put her ass out, and she landed here in the West End. She was eighteen by then and couldn’t give a good gotdamned. Unique knew fo’ sho she had to call it quits after that. No more babies, not for a while anyway.
Now she was twenty-three and hadn’t been pregnant in a while, thank the Lord. In all honesty, she was kinda happy, because she and her new man Curtis were having troubles. The week before she’d told him she might be pregnant, and he was scared shitless. Punk! But she wasn’t pregnant, just late. “Rosie” had made a visit shortly after watching Mama’s house take off like a Sputnik missile. Fortunately, it was a light visit, considering Curtis needed some persuasion not to leave yesterday.
They had gotten home from the welfare office, found the door unlocked, Cammie was begging for food. Right before Unique was about to go off, Curtis walked in. She took him in the bedroom and did him over with a quickness, too quick for her, as a matter a fact, but he claimed his minute-man act was because of Cammie’s crying and mess, which he went to handle.
Curtis knew how to handle Cammie. Took her in the room, and she was quiet right away. Unique didn’t know what magic he had. When she slipped on her robe and came out of the room, she was gonna go in the bedroom where Curtis and Cammie were, but Gina started crying, and Marquis start acting all wild, talking all crazy and stuff about Curtis needed to get out and wasn’t helping, where Cammie was concerned.
Marquis had his nerve. When he was a baby, he cried all the time. Then when he turned two, he was bad as hell. Now, he was just plain ol’ mean.
By the time Unique went to go see what was what, Curtis was coming out of the room, and Cammie was ’sleep all up under the covers, or faking it. Thanks to Marquis and his mouth, Curtis was mad. He’d apparently heard some of the stuff Marquis had said and left anyway. She hated how Marquis felt about her boyfriends, and was always messing shit up for her.
Unique wished she’d known his father better, to look for any resemblances between them. But, then again, Mama was the meanest woman in the world. So maybe he got all the evil-spiritedness from her.
While scrambling the eggs, Unique started to think, Maybe I’m sterile, or just really stressed-out, all these jobs I’ve been starting and quitting this past year. Dang! And the welfare . . . man, the welfare is tripping, always talking about cutting somebody off for one reason or another. She had to admit, life was easier when all she had to worry about was whether it was a boy or girl kicking around inside her.
The phone rang. She answered it, and the automated voice announced, “We have a collect call from Contra Costa County West Detention Facility, Richmond, California. Inmate number 875948E.”
Unique started to hang up but then realized that the convict calling her could be her brother. She pushed the appropriate number to accept the call. “Hello?”
“Unique,” Debonair blurted. “Waddup?”
She wanted to say, “Mama’s house, nigga.” She answered, “Hey, yo’self.”
“I need some money on my books?”
“Marquis turns ten today. You gon’ miss it.”
“Whatever. I’m not his daddy. But, then again, who is?” he jibed, as was common when it came to Marquis. “What about my books? They haven’t moved me yet, but they’re going to, real soon. It’s hell in here.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard, but you know what . . . it’s kinda hellish out here too,” Unique said, noticing her household coming alive. She shook her head no in answer to Cammie’s request for a cookie so early, and Cammie began to cry.
“Whatever, girl. You know you tough. You hangin’ in, unlike me.”
“Deb, stop talking about yo’self for a minute. Somebody did a drive-by on Mama’s house and—”
“What! What!” his voice hit a high, squeaky pitch.
/> “Yeah. Nigga with a mouth fulla gold. Sin said he was the same dude in the courtroom when they sentenced you.”
Marquis flopped on the sofa, snatching the remote from Gina, who in turn threw a Hot Wheels car at him.
“Stop it now! Stop!” Unique barely moved the phone away in time, to avoid yelling in Debonair’s ear.
“Mouth fulla gold teef?”
“I dunno. I was too busy looking at the grenade flying out the window.” Unique stomped over to the kids and snatched the remote from Marquis. She pointed toward the second bedroom, where Gina, Cammie, and Apple normally slept when Curtis wasn’t there.
Unique snapped her fingers, but Marquis’ evil scowl told her he wasn’t gonna obey her. He just rolled his eyes, got up, and headed toward the front door.
“Mommy, Marky is leaving!” Apple said, distracting Unique from her telephone conversation with her brother. “He didn’t eat breakfast.”
“I know, baby,” she told Apple in a soft voice. “Marquis, where are you going?” she asked in a louder, harsher tone.
“Where is he going?” Sinclair asked, catching the tail end of the argument as she same out of the bathroom.
Marquis yelled, “None of your business!” and slammed the door behind him.
Unique threw up her hands in frustration.
Sinclair headed out the door after him. “Li’l nigga, I know you didn’t just talk to me like that.”
“Just leave him,” Unique said. A sigh of irritation followed her words.
Sinclair allowed the door to slam in her face.
“Grenade?” Debonair yelled into the phone.
Suddenly Unique could hear the noise in the background on Debonair’s end of the phone. Apparently the guards didn’t like his last comment.
“I’m cool. I’m cool. Back up. Shit! I’m talking to my sister. Somebody threw a grenade at my mama’s house. I’m upset! Yeah, yeah, I’m cool. Sorry,” Debonair said, explaining his outburst to the guards.
“Did you tell the cops?”
“I’m not stupid. Yeah, I played dumb, considering I don’t know what the hell is going on anyway.”
Living off the system now, enjoying three squares a day, and the structure of the jail system, Debonair had no clue what was happening in the real world. Soon they would be moving him into the prison system, and things would change drastically.
“Anyway, nobody got hurt, but the house is messed up a little bit,” she lied. “I have to call the insurance company again tomorrow. I haven’t been able to reach anybody, or get any information about Mama owning the house.”
Debonair’s end of the phone was silent.
“Deb, I’ma try to come see you on Saturday. I’ll put twenty dollars on your books.”
“What about my car? Did it mess up my car?”
“Nah,” she lied.
Debonair, satisfied that all was well in the hood, said, “Twenty? You only got twenty? That ain’t gonna hit on shit.”
“Damn that! You act like you staying in the Hilton. Twenty better work, nigga. It’s all I got. I got kids and—”
“Keep it then,” he said, trying to be smart. “Put it toward the busted windows. I know the windows is pro’ly all busted out.”
“Windows?” Unique hesitated. Why put him through it? He had enough on his plate, just watching his back, pretty boy that he is. “I told you, I’ma call the insurance company, but yeah.”
“Good luck getting money from that,” he mumbled. “Yeah, you, umm, you keep that twenty.”
Debonair backed off the money quicker than Unique expected, raising her suspicion. “No, I’ma bring you the money,” she insisted now.
“No. Look, y’all need to just let the man handle that house. I don’t want you guys messing around there.”
“Why? And who was dude that blew it up?” Unique filled the girls’ plates with the eggs and warm toast that she’d finished preparing while on the phone.
“Who you talkin’ to?”
Unique turned to see Sinclair standing there, looking nervous. She also noticed Cammie reaching over and taking Apple’s bacon slice. Unique snatched the bacon from Cammie’s mouth and popped her lips hard, and Cammie screamed and ran to the room she shared with Gina.
“Mommmmyyyy! Cammie is cryyyyin’!” Apple tattled again.
“Shut up, Apple!” Gina, sitting at the table, held out the remote and flipped through the channels, settling finally on a loud cartoon station.
Unique went to the window with the phone still at her ear. She had hoped to see Marquis down below on the stoop. He’d been acting out more than usual lately, and she was starting to worry about him.
“Who you talkin’ to, Nique?” Sinclair asked again. She was truly nerved up.
Unique glanced over her shoulder at Sinclair, who been acting funny ever since she’d come in last night with her friend Malcolm. Maybe she was still reacting from the house going up. Maybe she had seen Gold Mouth again while hanging out in the P. Nah, she would have said something. Who knows with her? But she needs to tighten up. I don’t have time to take care of no crazy folks. Unique shook her head and pointed at the phone, as if to tell her not to worry.
“Debonair, do you want to see me, or do you want me just to leave the money with the people at the desk?” Unique realized that all her big brother cared about was the material things.
All Sinclair cared about was Gold Mouth. And who the hell knew what Tanqueray cared about, or where she was. Am I the only one who cares about the house? Unique was feeling overly righteous at that moment. Yet, not for once did she want to admit to herself that she’d done more trying to keep Curtis around than getting the house fixed.
“Of course, I want to see you.” Debonair wanted her to see him with his hair all dirty and wild, his skin all pocked up from the break in his normal grooming routine.
Or me see you.
Smooth and red toned, Debonair was indeed a pretty boy. If he wasn’t such a street runner, Unique would’ve figured him for “sweet,” and even with him running the street like he did, she still wasn’t sure about his sexual orientation, with his pedicures, manicures, hours in the mirror, and no girlfriends to run him money every other damn day.
“Look, I gotta go, Deb,” Unique finally said after a few more minutes of his bitchin’ and moanin’ about life in the clank.
Meanwhile Apple and Gina had finished eating, and Cammie’s plate had long been cleaned even before getting sent to the room, which was why she was stealing Apple’s food. The girls were screaming like banshees now, and Sinclair was peeking out the window every few minutes, as if looking for somebody.
Unique ran her fingers through her thick hair and sighed heavily. After she hung up the phone, she took a moment in the bathroom to compose herself. Her brain was searing. How had this become her life?
As soon as Unique walked out the bathroom, Sinclair asked, “So what we gon’ do about Mama’s house?”
Apple and Gina were going at it, fighting over the remote now, and Cammie had come back out of the room and was eating something, probably the cookie she’d wanted earlier.
What a hellish morning! Unique could barely think straight. When was summer going to be over so these bad kids could get back to school? And, now, she had just enough time to catch the bus to the welfare office.
“Sinclair, I don’t know. You act like this is my responsibility. I need to find Tanqueray.”
“Maaama!” Apple screamed, just to be screaming.
“But I gotta go. Can you please lock the door if you go somewhere this time?”
“I locked it last time,” Sinclair lied.
Unique’s eyes widened. Had everyone lost their mind? “Oh, I guess you just want Mr. Gold Mouth to just be waiting his ass up in here then,” Unique said, hoping to scare her.
Sinclair audibly gulped.
“You act like that man can’t find you, whoever the hell he is.”
“Unique, that’s what Malcolm said,” Sinclair said, her eyes we
lling up with tears.
Unique instantly regretted scaring her little sister. “Sinclair! Stop cryin’. That fool ain’t coming into the W.E. for you. Foo knows better than comin’ in here looking for anybody.” Unique chuckled.
Cammie’s incessant whining over food, Marquis’s bad tenth-upcoming-birthday attitude, Gina’s tomboy bullying, and Apple’s tattling, not to forget a trip with all of them on the bus to the welfare office for an annual review, and all the humiliation that brought, had chunked this Wednesday morning into the crapper for Unique. Her face was snarled by the time she unloaded from the bus into the supermarket parking lot after her appointment was over.
“Are we gonna get some sweets?” Cammie asked.
“No! I’m not getting your fat ass nothing sweet, dammit!”
Cammie burst into tears.
Unique regretted her words immediately. “Cammie, please just shut up. Please!”
Cammie’s bellows increased in volume.
“Shut the hell up! Shit!”
Unique heard a man say, “You shouldn’t talk to your little sister that way. Where’s y’all’s mama?”
She turned to cuss him out, but stymied by his handsome face, she changed her mind. “These are my bad-ass kids.”
He smiled. “Oh, well then, do ya thang, ma.”
Marquis, upset that he’d been dragged through all this, mumbled under his breath. “Phsst, punk.”
Unique was just happy the boy realized how important these little trips to the county office were. You can get mad all you want Li’l Marky, but when it comes to the welfare office or Section 8 office, you gotta go with the flow or end up living outdoors.
“What you call me, little boy?”
“I called you a punk. Quit tryin’ to get at my mama, so we can get in the store. Damn! Ain’t nobody got all day to fool wit’ choo.”
“Marquis, that’s rude. I know you are not talking to that grown man that way.”
“It’s okay, Miss . . .”
“Unique.”
“Unique. What a pretty name. It’s unique.” The handsome man chuckled.