by K Elliott
Jessica’s father had definitely brought up some good points that she hadn’t thought about. She had never looked at permanent birth control as modern-day genocide. She had always felt birth control was a good idea, especially for drug addicts. Now she wondered why it was being offered mostly in minority neighborhoods. She began to think about Jessica, who was a victim of her circumstances. At fourteen the girl had a lot to deal with, and Dream felt Jessica was a lot tougher than she could have been under the same circumstances.
Dream went to her computer, got on the Internet, and typed in the words crack baby. At least a thousand different entries came up. She scanned them carefully, clicking on the ones that got her attention. She double-clicked on one entry for pictures of crack babies. The site contained five photos. All of the babies were underweight and they were little bundles of flesh hooked up to respirators and life support systems, fighting for a chance at life.
She clicked on an entry that read: GET PAID NOT TO HAVE A CRACK BABY.
The story was about a white lady in California starting a program for addicted women to get paid for permanent sterilization. Opponents of the program said that it targeted minorities, while no treatment was offered to the drug-addicted woman. The women would still be addicts, but unable to have children.
The last entry she clicked on was titled: MYTHS ABOUT CRACK BABIES PROVEN WRONG. A study conducted at the University of Syracuse found that children born to crack-addicted mothers were just as competent as children born to non-addicted mothers; at the kindergarten level, some of the crack-addicted children scored even higher on some of the cognitive tests.
Dream turned the computer off and stared at the blank screen. She thought about what Charlie Irving said about a mass genocide being perpetrated, and realized her man was a contributor.
*** For the next two weeks Dream avoided Jamal. He tried calling her but she didn’t want to talk. He even came to the school but she refused to see him. He sent her more flowers but she didn’t respond.
Jamal decided he would pay Keisha a visit to find out what was going on. He remembered Dream mentioning the name of Keisha’s apartment complex, Vanity’s Way. Jamal drove up to the rental office. A fat white woman with a nametag reading Pam sat at a desk devouring a bag of Cheetos.
“Excuse me, can you tell me what building Keisha Ferguson lives in?” Jamal asked.
“I’m sorry, I cannot give you this information,” she said, placing the bag of Cheetos on her desk.
Jamal frowned. “I ain’t no serial killer or rapist. I’m a friend.”
“If you’re a friend, why don’t you know where she lives?” she asked.
Jamal was getting upset. Pam had made a valid point,one that he hadn’t thought about.
“Listen, I’m not here to start trouble.” He smiled, remembering that it always helped to smile and pretend to be polite when dealing with white people. He knew from experience that an angry black man could easily be labeled as a troublemaker. “Can you perhaps call Keisha and ask her if she wants to see me?”
“I’ll give her a call, but if she doesn’t want to see you, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises.”
“I’ll leave, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Jamal said
Pam wiped her orange-colored fingertips on her pants before picking up the phone. In less than ten seconds, she had Keisha on the line. “Yeah, I have a young man here wants to know where you live.”
“Tell her I’m Jamal.”
“Says his name is Jamal,” Pam said, sucking cheese powder from her finger, “Okay I’ll give him your apartment number.”
Jamal wanted to say, Bitch, I told you so, but he didn’t need to play one-upmanship with Pam. She was nothing to him, and he figured her life was miserable enough just being her size.
*** Keisha came to the door wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a T-shirt revealing her stomach. Her hair was down and she wore a hint of lip-gloss. Jamal’s eyes were immediately drawn to her thighs.
“Come in, have a seat,” Keisha offered. Jamal sat on the sofa and Keisha sat in a chair across from him. Again Jamal found himself staring at her legs. He finally caught himself and made eye contact with Keisha.
“What is going on with Dream?,” Jamal asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“She doesn’t want to see me, and she hasn’t answered any of my
phone calls,” Jamal said.
“Jamal, I haven’t spoken with Dream in a couple of days. I
thought everything was still cool with you two.”
“She’s mad at me about something, and the real fucked-up part
is that I don’t know what is going on. She won’t have shit to do
with me . . . I mean, I’ve been cut off overnight,” Jamal said as he
threw up his hands in disgust.
“I can give her a call if you want me to,” Keisha said as she stood
and strolled to the other side of the room picking up the cordless
telephone.
Jamal stared at Keisha’s ass and noticed how shapely she was.
He hadn’t remembered her body looking so well proportioned.
For a brief instant he imagined having sex with her. “No, Keisha,
you ain’t got to do that. I think I have a better idea now,” Jamal said
as he stood and made his way to the door.
Keisha walked over, and smiled innocently, before saying goodbye. Jamal took one quick look at her legs again before leaving.
*** It was seven o’clock when Jamal arrived at Dream’s apartment complex. She wasn’t there so he sat back in his Mercedes, prepared to wait.
Dream arrived at nine o’clock. When she stepped out of her white jeep he was right in her face, nose to nose. She was wearing Beautiful by Estee Lauder. He knew that smell because she would often leave the scent on his pillow.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“I’m not in the mood. Would you mind getting out of my way?” “Not before we talk.”
She attempted to walk around him but he stopped her. “Look,
you’re making a scene. Please leave,” she said.
“Can I come in?”
“You can do whatever you want.”
“I know that, but I just don’t want to barge in your house.” “You barge in on people’s lives, I don’t see why you can’t barge
in people’s houses. What’s the difference?”
“What’s that’s suppose to mean?”
“Let’s just take the conversation in the house,” she said. Once they were inside he asked, “What’s up with the little
comment you made about me barging in on people’s lives?” She met his gaze. “Think about it. You do have a brain, don’t you?”
“The last time I checked it was still there. I may not be as educated as you, but, yeah, I do have a brain,” he said.
“Well, do me a favor, please use it!” she shouted.
“Where did that come from?”
“Jamal, you have a lot of potential. Don’t ruin your life, and please don’t ruin the lives of others.”
“I guess you must be talking about my drug dealing.”
“You do have a brain,” she announced sarcastically.
Jamal stared at her coldly. Who was she to be telling him what he was doing to his life and the lives of others? She didn’t know what he had been through. She wasn’t a black man in this country, and she definitely had her family for support. “So I guess you would be happy if I got a real job?”
“That would be a start,” she said, her eyes were blazing.
Jamal paced the floor wearily. He felt like he was on trial. “Hell, you don’t know what it’s like to be a black man with no education and being a convicted felon,” he said.
“You’re right, Jamal. I wasn’t born a man, and I didn’t choose to be a convicted felon. I do know you need to quit blaming people for the decisions you made.”
“Baby, I
’m not blaming anyone. I’m just simply saying it’s hard out here,” he said.
“Well, welcome to the real world. You want to know what hard is? Try being fourteen with a mother on crack and trying to get to school every day.”
Jamal turned from her gaze. He began to think about his mother, whom he hadn’t seen in years. He remembered the last day he had seen her. The once healthy, beautiful, strong black woman was thin and sickly. Her teeth had rotted from years of drug use. “Now that’s where you’re wrong. I do know what it feels like to have a mother on crack. You, on the other hand, don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Well, Jamal, if you know the feeling, why do you keep poisoning the community? Don’t you see all those fancy cars and condos and Sean John outfits ain’t worth it? I don’t think you want to go back to jail.”
Jamal dropped his head. He knew she wanted him to feel guilty about what he was doing, and he knew that he probably should feel guilty, but the fact of the matter was, he didn’t. He walked over and embraced her, then stroked her hair. “I know I can’t go on like this if I want to keep you.”
She lifted her head from his shoulders and kissed him. Dream was thankful for her parents. She was glad they had instilled morals and values in her. Above all she was glad they had given her the confidence she needed to do anything she desired. This was a confidence Jamal obviously didn’t possess. He seemed to think that drug dealing was all he knew, and he was quick to point and blame society for his problems.
CHAPTER 14
D REAM FELT IT WAS her duty as a teacher and a human being to encourage Jessica and give her the confidence she to needed to transcend her situation. She kept Jessica late to bring her up to date on her assignments. One day after school they were on their way to Jessica’s house when Dream stopped by her apartment to get her overnight bag to stay at Jamal’s for the night.
“Ms. Nelson, you have a very nice apartment,” Jessica said. “Thank you,” Dream said, smiling as she disappeared into the bedroom. She came back and found Jessica staring at her degree and her National Honor Society plaques.
“Ms. Nelson, you must have been really smart in school.”
“No, Jessica, I consider myself average. I just have a good work ethic.”
“Are those your parents?” Jessica asked, pointing to a picture of Dream and her parents on her college graduation day.
“Yes. Don’t I look like them?”
“Yeah, especially your mom. You are very blessed to have such wonderful parents.”
“Jessica, you are blessed as well,” Dream said.
“Really?” Jessica’s eyes looked innocent and confused.
“You have a wonderful father, and you have me. See, when you lack in one area, God will send someone to help you pick up the slack.”
She smiled. “Ms. Nelson, I am blessed, too, huh?”
“Please believe it.”
Dream had become Jessica’s mentor. She helped her with her homework and they hung out together. They talked about college and Jessica’s career goals. Jessica told her she wanted to go to Howard University and become a doctor. Dream was surprised at Jessica’s aspirations at only fourteen years old. She encouraged Jessica to look beyond her circumstances and to try not to worry about the things she had no control over. She even discussed women’s health issues, and on one occasion they even got into a discussion about sex. Jessica proclaimed to Dream that she was a virgin still, but she had a boyfriend whom she talked with over the phone.
“A boyfriend?” Dream asked, surprised.
Jessica blushed.
“You’re too young for a boyfriend.”
“I’m fourteen. I’m old enough.”
“Do I know him?”
Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Does he go to school at Spaugh?”
“Yeah.”
“Who is he?” Dream asked.
“I can’t tell you,” Jessica said, avoiding Dream’s eyes.
“Why not?”
“He’s white and you might tell my daddy. I don’t think he likes white people too much.”
“How do you feel about white people?”
“I don’t have anything against them. I know there are differences between the races but I know there is only one race, the human race. God created us all.”
Dream smiled. She was impressed with Jessica’s answer. The child clearly had her own opinions and views. “Jessica, I want you to feel free to tell me anything. Whatever you tell me, I’ll keep between us.”
Jessica met Dream’s eyes. “His name is Ian Pilcher.”
“Yeah, I know Ian. I taught him last year.”
Jessica smiled. “He always wants to kiss but I don’t want to kiss him, though.”
“Why not?”
“My lips are bigger than his.”
Dream burst out laughing.
*** The next day, after school, Dream drove her jeep up to Jessica’s house to drop her off. Charlie Irving sprinted to the car, beads of sweat covering his face, and his eyes were red as if he had been crying. “Jessica, go in the house. Let me talk to Ms. Nelson,” he said.
Jessica jumped out of the jeep and quickly and ran in the house. Charlie met Dream’s eyes. “Ms. Nelson, I have a problem, and I need your help.”
“What can I do to help you?” Dream asked.
“My wife came here today and stole my car; I need you to take me to look for her if you have time. I have to find her before she sells it to one of the local crack dealers.”
“How do you know she stole the car?”
“She has a set of keys, and she’s stolen it before, loaning it out for crack.”
Dream contemplated. She really didn’t have time to take him to look for his car, and she knew this was dangerous. She didn’t know how Charlie Irving would react if he saw his wife or some drug dealer in his car. “Come on, but I can’t spend too much time looking for her, I have some papers to grade tonight.”
Charlie ran back inside and grabbed a thin blue and gray nylon jacket. He rushed out and jumped in on the passenger side of the truck. “I need you to drive to the west side of town.”
Once they arrived, Charlie directed Dream to Woodview Drive, a long winding road that consisted primarily of old, wooden, dilapidated homes. Most were crack houses. Drug dealers sat on the porches dealing. Young teenage boys paraded up and down the street with walkie-talkies and binoculars. Curiously, Dream turned to Charlie. “What is going on with these guys walking around like they’re in the army?”
“They look out for the drug dealers.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. One guy runs this whole neighborhood.”
Dream sat in silence. She was afraid, and she wondered what Charlie planned to do if he saw someone driving his car. She certainly didn’t want any trouble. Finally she asked, “Do you know this guy who runs the neighborhood?”
“Yeah, I had it out with him the last time I had to go find the car.”
She glanced over at Charlie who was biting his nails. “Are you sure it’s okay?”
“Yeah, it’s cool. Just drive to the end of the street then pull in the driveway of the last house on the right.”
When Dream reached the house, two men approached the passenger side of the vehicle. “What are you looking for?” one of the men asked.
Charlie let down his window. “We ain’t come here to buy no dope. I came to try to find my wife. Is Rico around here?”
“Rico don’t want to see nobody,” one of the men said.
“Rico knows me,” Charlie said.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Listen man, I didn’t come here to get in no altercation with you. Is Rico here or not?”
The man pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt. “I still need to know your name so I can tell him who’s looking for him.”
“Tell him Charlie is looking for him.”
The man had summoned Rico by radio. Five minutes later Rico drove up in a whi
te Infiniti Q-45. He was a short, stocky, dark man with flashy platinum jewelry and teeth.
“Wait here for a minute, I’ll be right back,” Charlie said as he left the car.
Dream scanned the area. She could feel the danger lurking. Inadvertently she made eye contact with one of the walkie-talkie boys who was licking his lips suggestively. She quickly turned away. As Charlie and Rico made conversation, she rolled down the window to eavesdrop.
“I just want to know where in the hell is my car?”
“I done told your punk-ass, I don’t know nuthin’ about yo’ damn car,” Rico replied.
“You had it the last time. In fact, you were the one who was driving it.”
“I had your car the last time because your crack-head wife gave me the car, remember? I ain’t steal shit. I ain’t got to steal,” Rico said, pulling out a wad of money.
“This ain’t about whether or not you have to steal. I just want to know where my car is.”
“I don’t know where your car is, and I don’t need your car. My rims cost more than that cheap-ass Ford Focus.” Rico chuckled, pointing to his Infiniti. “Your best bet is to get the hell away from here before you get hurt.”
“I’m gonna find my car if it means searching this entire street. I know it’s over here.”
Rico pulled a huge pistol from his side. “You’re going to get the hell away from here is what you’re gonna do. Now get out of my face.”
Charlie turned and hurried back to Dream’s jeep, which she already had running. “Let’s go,” he said.
Before she pulled off, Rico fired two shots in the air and she and Charlie slid down in their seats. Dream shook nervously as she slouched. She had never been so close to a real gunshot before. She was certain after she heard the gunshot she was going to die.
Rico and the walkie-talkie boys roared with laughter. Charlie sat up in his seat and looked at Rico and his workers still laughing. “It’s okay, Ms. Nelson. Those clowns were just trying to get a laugh.”
Her heart pounded, and chills traveled her spine as she held her ears, which were still ringing from the gunshots. Finally she got herself together and drove away.