The time away, allowed her to reflect on the series of events that led up to her decline. Since the day Mox disappeared out of her life, everything began to go downhill. She couldn’t digest the fact that one day he was there and they were together, connected like links in a chain and then, he was gone and she was abandoned. Things really got bad when Priscilla found out she was pregnant with Brandi. That’s when she fell into an unmanageable state of depression and with Ryan feeding her drugs; it only worsened her state of mind.
It took a few weeks for it to register, but after a while, Priscilla realized that Mox wasn’t coming back anytime soon. She was still getting coke from Juan Carlos, but when she got with Ryan he couldn’t move the same amount of weight as Mox had been moving and the money was coming up short every time.
After taking too many losses, Juan Carlos told Priscilla he was no longer doing business with her; at least until Mox returned.
She was pregnant, broke, and had developed a new drug habit that she couldn’t afford. The only thing left to do, was exactly what she had vowed to never do and that was become what her mother had always called her.
Ryan had never given Priscilla a dime, so when she went broke; she had to do for herself. Whatever it took to put food and clean diapers on her baby girl, she did. Plenty of nights, she would starve because the only money she could hustle up would be enough for some formula for Brandi. She stole everything from bottles of Gerber baby food out of Stop & Shop to an $800 dollar power folding stroller out of Toys R Us.
She ran a scam on the department of social services and figured out a way to get much more money than she should have been getting. The extra finances helped her secure her own living space. She was able to rent a room for $500 a month.
Every day, Priscilla would tell herself that she was going to kick the habit, but every day the habit continued to kick her. By the time Brandi was 4 years old, Priscilla was all the way strung out on cocaine and the effects of the highly addictive drug were more than obvious. Certain areas of her skin darkened and her hair became dry and frizzled. The only thing she thought about throughout the day was coke. It got so bad that her sinus and nostril tissue were permanently scarred. She no longer loved herself inside or out. She didn’t care. She became physically dependent on the drug and needed it to function.
But everything changed the moment she walked through the doors of the treatment center. It felt like a ton of weight fell from her shoulders as soon as she signed the agreement papers.
The first week of her withdrawal was the worst, because her body craved more of the drug than usual and her obsession to use had increased. Instead of giving in to her cravings, Priscilla had to occupy her mind with new and unconnected thoughts to distance herself from the norm. She had to become somebody new, and in order to do that she needed to let it all out.
When she started her one on one therapy sessions with her counselor, Priscilla was distant and unresponsive. She wasn’t comfortable opening up to people she knew, so a stranger was out of the question. It took some time, but eventually she started to express herself and show some progress.
A couple weeks later she was ready for the group sessions.
“Hello, my name is Priscilla… and I’m an addict.”
On her journey through the twelve step program, Priscilla discovered a new life and gradually shed all the fear and emotions she kept locked inside of her. It was a new breath and a rejuvenated experience. She listened as other addicts shared their stories of joy and horror and when it became her turn, she was delighted to partake.
“Hello, my name is Priscilla and I’m addicted to cocaine.”
“Hello, Priscilla.” The group said together.
She continued. “I came here four months ago after my ex-boyfriend beat me up in the streets. I’m thirty years old and I have a six year old daughter who I abandoned just so I could go off and get high. Excuse me y’all.” her eyes got watery and she wiped them.
“It’s alright, baby…” A white girl named Jennifer said. She and Priscilla had met through the program three months ago. They had been cool since. “We all made mistakes that we knew were wrong when we were doing them. It’s all good. Jus’ let it out.”
Jennifer as the only friend Priscilla had in the program. Everybody gravitated to at least one person they could trust and confide in and she was just that. She and Priscilla had a lot in common. They were beautiful, young females with daughters, a drug habit and tons of hate in their blood towards their mothers.
Priscilla kept going. “I never told anyone this, but when I was nine years old, my mother and father separated and not too long after, she had a new boyfriend. From the day he walked through the door I knew he was the devil. I tried to tell my mother how I felt and she just brushed my feelings off to the side. After six months of them dating, she let this stranger move into our house. There were nights I would jump out of my sleep because I felt someone’s presence and sure enough, it would be him, standing over me, drilling me with those satanic like eyes of his.”
Her tears started to flow again, but this time she let them fall. “It started with the disgusting looks and it escalated to him touching me, and eventually, he pinned me down in my own bed and raped me.” The entire room had an eerie silence and nobody could look Priscilla in the face. “I told my mother about it the next day and you know what she did?” Priscilla paused. “That bitch told me I was lying and she whopped my ass everyday faithfully, until I told her I had made the story up. To this day, she still doesn’t believe he raped me.”
Her story had the whole room in tears. Jennifer got up from her seat and went over to give Priscilla a hug. They cried and embraced for a minute. Priscilla had just rid herself of dead weight she had been holding onto for twenty years and it felt remarkable. It helped her move on to the next phase of her new life.
All eighteen group members stood up and started clapping. They were proud of the progress Priscilla had made since her arrival and in a few hours she would be on her way out the door to start her new life.
Jennifer tapped her leg. “Hey, you better not forget about me when you get back in the world.”
Priscilla hugged her again. “You know I got you girl. I told you I got a plan…”
NINETEEN
The one bedroom apartment smelled of soiled clothes that hadn’t been washed in months. The walls were filled with smoke and the carpet was full of dirt. Tyrell sat on the arm of the old ripped up sofa and reached into his left pocket. He pulled out two quarters, a dime and five nickels.
Eighty five fuckin’ cent to my name, he thought.
“Tyrell!”
“What do you want, Ma?”
“Gimme some money.”
He looked down at the change in his hand and smiled, but he really wanted to cry. “I ain’t got no money.”
“So gimme some drugs then.” Ms. Michaels staggered out the back and into the living room. She was a tall, slim woman, who once was exceptionally attractive, but after smoking crack for 5 years, that beauty had quickly dwindled away. She had a grubby red scarf tied around her head to hide her bald spots and her T-shirt and sweatpants were unwashed and full of holes.
“I ain’t got nothin’ ma. No money, no drugs.” He pushed some old newspapers to the side and sat on the sofa.
She scratched at a dark spot on her neck. “Well you gotta get the fuck outta here. I don’t need you here if you ain’t got nothin’… you might as well go back to where you was.”
“I was at cousin Dana’s house, but she said I couldn’t stay there no more. I ain’t got nowhere to go.”
“Well you going outta here… bet that.”
“Ma, don’t do this to me right now. Please.”
“Please my ass, Tyrell. You wanna be grown, take yo’ grown ass out there in them streets.
Tyrell cast a hateful sneer at his mother. “Oh, so since I ain’t got no money or no drugs I gotta leave? You gon’ kick your own son out over some foul shit like that?”
“Fuck you then… you crack head bitch!” He slammed the door as he left out.
“No, fuck you, Tye-rell! You no-good-son-of-a-bitch!” She ranted. “You ain’t shit and you never gon’ be shit! You just like yo’ ol’ punk ass father!”
It wasn’t the first time Tyrell had called her a crack head or a bitch. Their altercations started the day he found out she was using. His heart felt like it had gotten crushed and on top of that, he got ridiculed for it. That’s when the trouble started.
Two years ago, he solidified his hood credibility when he shot and robbed two dudes from out of town at a dice game in the hood. He remembered it like it was yesterday.
“Yo, that’s in the crack!”
“Everything good over here. I told you the rules before we started.”
Tyrell stood off to the side watching the local hustlers spar it off with the dice like he did every night in the hood.
Stacks of money, liquor, weed and women always set the scene for a summer night in the hood and the gamblers stayed out all night. Some nights, C-low games would go on for hours and then lead into the next day.
After about five straight hours, the only ones still going at it were Rome and two dudes from out of town.
“I’m not payin’ that. It’s in the crack. Let me roll over.” The short kid from out of town said.
Rome stuffed the dice in his pocket. “You not gon’ pay me? Nigga that’s a five hunit dolla ace. You gon’ pay that.”
The tall kid from out of town said, “My man said let him roll over.”
Rome gave Tyrell the head nod and he got off the bench. “Fuck you and your man. Gimme all that shit!” he pulled out an old .38 snub nose with black electrical tape wrapped around the handle.
“Yo, Rome wassup wit cha—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Tyrell slapped the tall kid from out of town with the old pistol and then went in his pockets and took everything he had. He did the same to the short kid, but when he went to take the chain off his neck, the short kid got bold and tried to grab the gun. He didn’t succeed. Tyrell shot them both right there in front of the building and from that day on, the hood would respect him as a certified G.
After his mother told him he wasn’t shit, Tyrell went and rolled his last bag of weed and sat in the park smoking and thinking of a come up. He was out on bail, no money, no work and no place to lay his head. The only thing he owned was that old, rusted .38 snub nose with the tape on the handle. He had to make do with what he had.
Halfway through the blunt, his homie Leo popped up. “Whaddup, Rell?” he took a seat on the wooden bench.
“Coolin, what’s good wit’ you? Wanna hit this?” He tried to pass the blunt, but Leo said no. “Oh, you quit smoking now, huh?”
“Yeah, I’m chillin’. I gotta get my shit together, Rell. I can’t keep doin’ the same shit. Yo, my moms said she gon’ kick me out if I get in any more trouble. Fuck I’ma go?”
“Nigga, my moms already kicked me out. You know how that goes… fuck it.” Tyrell inhaled a thick stream of smoke and exhaled through his nostrils. “What you got in the bag?”
“DVD’s and socks.” Leo opened the bag and took the contents out.
Tyrell laughed loud and the smoke caused him to cough. His eyes were watery. “Nigga, you sellin’ DVD’s and socks now, what the fuck is wrong wit’ you?”
“I ain’t tryna go to jail, that’s what’s wrong wit’ me. Fuck that crack shit. My uncle fronted me some stock and this shit is good money. Police ain’t gon’ fuck wit’ me for this shit.”
Tyrell just shook his head. “Nigga you trippin’… yo, come wit’ me to go see Rome real quick. He ‘pose to give me some bread.” They got up and walked into building 70. Tyrell was still joking on Leo’s hustle. “You a funny nigga, son. What door this nigga live at?”
“I think it’s 2C,” Leo answered. They walked up the steps and Tyrell knocked on the door.
A male voice shouted. “Who is it?”
“It’s Rell.”
The door came open. “What you want lil’ nigga?” Rome said. He kept the door cracked with his foot behind it.
“Yo, lemme holla at you for a sec, my nigga.”
Rome opened the door and let Tyrell and Leo in. “Damn, this shit is nice, Rome.” Tyrell looked over the nicely situated apartment. Rome had been doing fairly well for himself these past few years. He was one of a handful of hustlers in the projects who were really getting some money. He ran a profitable dope spot on the other side of town that had been in business for the last three years and sometimes he would get Tyrell to do a few things for him. Rome recognized the thirst in his eyes and took advantage of young Tyrell because he was easily swayed. He fed him just enough to keep him hungry and coming back for more, but Tyrell wasn’t as stupid as he thought.
Rome knew he came to ask for something. “So wassup, what you wanna talk about?”
“I need to hold somethin’?”
“You always need to hold somethin’ my nigga. Every time I give you somethin’ you fuck it up.”
Tyrell tried to reason. “I’m sayin’ my nigga… I know I fucked shit up before, but right now shit is real. I ain’t got nowhere to rest my head. I ain’t got no bread. I need your help, for real.”
Rome wasn’t giving in this time. “I ain’t fuckin’ wit’ you like that Rell. It’s too much of a headache.” he looked at Leo. “What the fuck you lookin’ at? What you got in the bag, Leo?”
“DVD’s and socks.”
Rome looked in the bag. “Oh, word… lemme get a couple pair of them joints and that new shit that came out friday… wit’ Denzel.” Leo gave him the DVD and two pairs of socks. “Okay, I see you Leo. You gettin’ money huh? So, this is what you need that paper for Tyrell?”
“Man… fuck them DVD’s Rome. I need some real money.”
“Nigga you tryna be Pablo Escobar tomorrow. That shit ain’t gon’ happen. You gotta start at the bottom and put that work in. You know the old saying, ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’,” he laughed. “Hold up y’all… I gotta go check on my daughter. She’s in the back sleep.” He walked to the backroom.
“Yo,” Leo whispered when he saw Tyrell snatch the pistol from his pants. “What the fuck you doing?”
Tyrell palmed the weapon, looked at it and then eyed Leo. “Jus’ shut up and do what I tell you to,” he said.
“But—”
Rome came from out the back and as soon as he entered the living room, he saw Tyrell holding the gun. “What you doin’?” his eyes were on the old taped up gun. “Fuck you got that for?”
Tyrell was nervous. He quickly aimed the gun at Rome’s head. “Where the fuckin’ money at Rome?”
Rome grinned. He didn’t think Tyrell was serious. He looked at Leo and noticed the panic on his face, so he took a step toward the gun. “Stop playin’ wit’ me Rell.”
Tyrell took a step forward and gripped the handgun tighter. He wasn’t playing at all. “You think it’s a joke?” He pulled the trigger and shot Rome in the foot.
Leo jumped at the sound of the gunshot. “Rell what the fuck are you doing!?”
The impact from the bullet broke Rome’s ankle and he fell to the floor in agony. The look he gave Tyrell was a confused one. “You buggin lil’ nigga… chill!” Blood was spilling out the hole in his foot.
Tyrell stood over him and put the gun to his head. “Where that bread at nigga?”
Leo was scared to death. “Rome, I ain’t have nothin’ to do wit’ this,” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Leo before I shoot your dumb ass too.” He brought his eyes back to Rome. “You got five seconds to tell me where that money at. Five…” he started counting down.
“Rell don’t do this, my daughter is in the back. Please.”
“Three… Two…”
Rome had to make a swift decision. “Aight… aight.” he took a deep breath
and looked at all the blood coming from his foot. “The money is in the deep freezer, all the way at the bottom.” The pain was worsening. “Ta… take it and get the fuck outta here.”
“Leo… get that.” Tyrell ordered.
His adrenalin was at its peak. Every time held that gun in his hand he felt powerful. The power was so intense, it stimulated his mind and made him believe that he was everything he ever wanted to be. It was magician like, and the gun was his magic wand. He could make things happen with just a wave of his hand.
A loud baby’s cry echoed from the back room and right away, Rome’s neck turned. It was his 3 year old baby girl, Essence. She had been asleep the whole time.
The Union Page 15