Rachel wanted to let the group know that she didn’t need them or anyone else. She stared at their inquiring faces, their eyes prying into her privacy and digging away at her defenses. Testing, everyday they tested her patience. She heard their voices knocking at her conscience.
“Amen, sister. We all got troubles but there is no trouble too great for God to handle,” a group member encouraged the faltering speaker.
“Lord knows I’ve tried to be a good mother. I thought I’d found me the right man and we had a good plan. But, I found out years later, after becoming hooked to the monster, crack, that the devil is out there and he also has a plan. A plan to destroy me and my family through drugs. I don’t want drugs to destroy my daughter,” Rachel said and knew right away that she wouldn’t be able to stop the tears. She let them flow.
“Preach,” a group member shouted.
“Tell it, girl,” came another voice of support. Rachel gathered herself and continued.
“My daughter, Coco, means everything to me. Her father, God bless his soul, he passed away recently and my daughter, she doesn’t know. He sent me his guitar and that’s all he left.” Rachel paused to catch her breath. She choked from the tears and someone offered her water. She accepted and downed half the glass.
“Preach on, sis.”
“My daughter doesn’t know that her father is dead. You see, I just found out.”
“When are you gonna tell her?” a group member asked.
“I’m not sure but it’s gonna be soon,” Rachel answered.
“What is the problem?” Another member asked.
“I just wanna wait, that’s all. I don’t know how to say it.”
“You just got to say the words. Honey, your father is dead. I don’t see what’s so difficult about it?”
“Maybe you don’t see but I do, okay.”
“I hear you, sis, but I would’ve told my daughter. If you say you love her as much as you’re standing there reciting. Love is not a word. Love is a feeling and it seems to me that you’re hiding behind that word. That’s all there is to that.”
Maybe it was the braggadocious attitude but Rachel couldn’t take it. “Well I don’t give a fuck what your fat ass thinks and you best shut your mouth before I come over there and whip that fat ass, bitch. What?”
“Whatever.”
“Rachel, Rachel please stop now. Nobody is gonna whip anybody’s ass, alright? Please get that out of your mind right now. Ladies, ladies, quiet please.” The voice of the counselor could be heard bellowing above all others. The argument between Rachel Harvey and the other member had gotten out of hand. Another counselor, Ms. Johnson, was forced to intervene. She had waited hoping for a peaceful resolution but the exchange had been angry. Both parties were on the verge of coming to blows. Rachel Harvey was unrelenting.
“That’s what y’all people do. Sit around and judge people. Who’s gonna judge y’all? Thinking y’all better than everyone?”
“Rachel, you’ve got to stop that right now. Stop it, please,” Fatima begged the angry woman. Both women had to be held back by other group members. “Well, ladies, this concludes this evening’s meeting. I guess everyone with the exception of Rachel may return to the dormitory.” The counselor dismissed everyone from the meeting.
Group members filed out and some commented, “That’s what we need round here, some fire. Shake things up.”
“Keep your head, ma,” others said has they passed by Rachel. She stood alone her chest heaving with little beads of sweat on her forehead. She crossed her arms and cut her eyes. Her body shook and she shifted weight from side to side. It had not been an easy day for her.
“What got into you?” Fatima asked pulling her down to sit in one of the armchairs.
“Nothing, you know me. That bitch, she always wanna start with me. When I was on clean-up duties last week, the bitch gonna approach me like I’m a child. I’m a grown woman, you know what I’m saying? I will not let her speak to me as if I was her child, damn butch bitch.”
“Alright, you don’t have to berate her. You were doing so well up there. I’d hope that we could continue because by you talking about all the frustrations with trying to raise your child, it seemed like you were getting some sort of strength. Tell me about it,” requested Mrs. Murray.
“Well, I really was nervous at first but it was getting easier the more I spoke on my issues, me and my daughter, and about how we relate to each other is important. That was what I was getting to before miss big mouth put her two cents in it.” Rachel looked away then back. “See, that’s why I’ve got to leave this place,” Rachel cried. Tears were flowing down the side of her cheeks.
“You shouldn’t leave this place until you’re ready to,” responded Fatima. There were other groups and residents going by and everyone seemed to take interest. They peeked and stared until the counselor suggested a change of venue.
“Let’s go to my office and we can talk in private there.” Ms. Murray turned the lights off as both women walked out of the room.
FOURTEEN
Rachel Harvey had resented being on the inside since the beginning. She, however, had learned to accept her fate through the encouragement of friends and counselors she had met while staying at the Green Acres Rehab Institute. She knew exploding in the group meeting would bring her demerits but it was something that was inevitable. It was born from a desperation to leave this place. Rachel sat and stewed as her thoughts brooded over the last time she had met one on one with the counselor.
“Have you told Coco anything about her father’s passing as yet?” Fatima Murray had asked.
“Why? Does it matter?” Rachel had responded indifferently.
“Yes, it does matter. She needs to know such things. It’s important.”
“I haven’t really told her. I guess I’m sorta waiting for the right time.”
“When is the right time, Rachel? It’s been over a week now and the guitar and the package he left for her are still here gathering dust in my office.”
“If you want, I could take them out. I mean, I didn’t mean for them to be there this long. Matter of fact, let me just get them right now.”
“Listen, Rachel, there is no reason for you to get upset.”
“I’m not upset, Mrs. Murray, I’m just trying to solve the problem right now.”
“The problem is not one of space. It is one of letting your daughter in on the secret you’re keeping from her.”
“Huh? What secret might that be, Mrs. Murray?” Rachel asked in anger.
“The one of not knowing that her father is dead and that he also left her a guitar along with a big brown envelope. These things might just be important to her,” Mrs. Murray said without any restraint. She had wanted to say this to Rachel Harvey before. The counselor knew it was not going to be easy and she was right. Ms Harvey tore into her.
“Y’all people need to mind y’all fucking business, you hear.” Rachel Harvey was near tantrum level. “All you people up in here be illing the fuck out. Y’all need to go and get a life and stop meddling in mine. Yes, yes, yes, I used to smoke crack and abused drugs like y’all say but that’s in the past now. I’ve been clean for six weeks now and I’m not a troublemaker but ever since I got up in here, it’s been like a curse. Y’all refuse to let me live in peace. I’ve obeyed y’all rules. I mean, I don’t even smoke cigarettes but y’all still won’t let me be. Y’all got to tell me how to live my life, how to talk to my daughter, and what to say. I mean, y’all must be the damn man. I better start praying to the counselors...”
Mrs. Murray couldn’t hold back. “Stop!” she shouted then closed the door to the many curious onlookers. Mrs. Murray started again slowly, “We’re not having a shouting war, Rachel. I simply wanted to remind you that the more you allow yourself to think that way, the less you’ll ever be able to move on and put a closure to that period of your life. You’re a good person and a good mother. Just maybe, maybe you should reconsider and tell your daughter about her
father’s fate. You do that and you’ll also move on.”
The conversation loomed heavily over Rachel Harvey’s head. She had wanted her daughter to know but she wanted to tell her at the right time. When is the right time to tell someone that their father is dead? pondered Ms. Harvey. Fatima had been a friend and counselor. Maybe she was right. Coco would visit tonight. Ms. Harvey vowed to tell her daughter of her father’s demise.
“Do you want to redo the meeting, Rachel?” Fatima asked and Rachel thought for awhile before giving her answer.
“Yes, I’ll do it again,” she said and the counselor smiled.
As they left the office and began walking back to the meeting hall, doubt set in with each step that she took. Ms. Harvey stood at the top of a makeshift circle where twenty eager faces waited for her to get started.
“Good evening, sisters, mothers and all in attendance tonight. I am Rachel Harvey and I’ve abused drugs and alcohol.”
“God’s blessings and good evening all,” was the rhetorical reply.
“I’m on the road to recovery, God willing. As you know, this is the time when everyone gets to discuss any topic and tell, you know, tell what is bothering them or what’s keeping them here and giving ‘em faith and so on...”
“That’s right. It’s that time again,” a member of the support group uttered.
Without warning, Ms. Harvey became tongue-tied. She remained speechless for too long. Inquiring stares examined her aggrieved look. In hushed tones, Ms Harvey apologized as she took a seat. Her body heaved uncontrollably as she cried.
“You can’t run. You can’t hide. You must face the pain.” It was the collective voice of the support group. “Pray hard, my sister. There is no problem we can’t overcome,” the chorus continued. Their chant seemed to lend strength to her frail spirit. Ms. Harvey stood, cleared her throat and testified about her present fears.
“I appreciate all the concern. I’m trying to hold my head above my problems and worries.”
“God don’t give more than you can handle, my sister. Have courage.” The persistent effort of the support group gently guided Ms. Harvey past her emotional barrier.
“My daughter’s father, well he passed away.” She choked on her emotions. Her throat became dry and it became difficult for her to speak. Ms. Harvey braved the tears as she dabbed at her eyes and continued, “Couple weeks ago, he up and died of a stroke. I only found out when his probation officer sent me all his belongings, a damn guitar and a brown envelope with a letter to my daughter. I haven’t told her any of this yet because of my fear. I’ve been scared to tell her. I don’t know how she is gonna take it, you know…I don’t how she will react. Although this man has not lived with me, he is my child’s father. He brought me life and introduced me to drugs.”
“Amen,” came the chorus.
“His passing, I think, will make me and my daughter a little stronger. We’ve already learned strength through his weaknesses.” Ms. Harvey found it easier to speak. She wept a little when she heard the applause as she reminisced over Reggie Melody. “In the beginning, Reggie said he would be there for us. But in the end, I see he was never really there to do for me or for my daughter. I mean, he left me and us for his own reasons. He lived his life. Now, I gotta keep living mine.”
“Be strong. The strong will survive.” The support group cheered Ms. Harvey.
“I mean, I asked God, why me? Why I had to fall for crack, cocaine, and alcohol? I still don’t know the answer,” Ms. Harvey said.
The group did what was expected. They provided succor to another soul in distress. It was the kind of help that kept the alcohol and drugs off Ms. Harvey’s mind and was guiding her to the path of sobriety. A smile gathered around the corner of her mouth. Rachel Harvey was not completely free from the need but at this time, she was not in need. There were no tremors or fears. She walked away with a fresh perspective. Ms Harvey recognized that her existence was solely up to her.
After the meeting was over, Ms. Harvey hurried to the office of her counselor and knocked. When the door opened, Rachel Harvey flung herself into the arms of Mrs. Murray who held her ground as the thin lady draped her arms around her rotund figure.
“Thanks,” Ms. Harvey said. Fatima was taken aback by Ms. Harvey’s display but she knew that she had a hand in pushing the patient toward recovery. Fatima easily held Rachel’s shrunken frame against her and patted her back.
“Things will get easier, my dear. You’ll see. Everything will be all downhill soon enough. You’ll see, Rachel.” The counselor saw Rachel Harvey reaching out and she took her hand. “You’ve got to be strong,” she said as the Rachel wept in her embrace. Fatima Murray was confident that the counseling was making a difference. This was the first time she had seen Rachel Harvey, a person who had denied that she belonged in drug therapy, break down crying. Recovery would not be too far behind now, thought the counselor hopefully.
FIFTEEN
“Are you all right, Coco? You don’t seem to be yourself today,” Ms. Katie said as looked at the bronze skinned teenager sitting across the kitchen table from her.
Coco sat staring into the hot liquid thinking that the shower had done her well but it couldn’t rid her mind of the thoughts that had her in this mood. She didn’t feel like being around anyone but Miss Katie was not just anyone.
Miss Katie was a mentor and someone who Coco could go to with any problem. Although tonight it felt like it was all ramble to her, Coco tried to listen as the old woman continued to speak.
“Go ahead, Coco, sip your hot chocolate before it gets any colder.” Miss Katie watched Coco rubbing her hands against the cup. “Oh yeah, did hear that the police were up there on the sixth floor? They went to see about that Spanish couple.” Miss Katie continued her coverage of the latest gossip from the building.
Miss Katie stayed home all day and always knew the latest gossip. She never missed a beat and most of the time there was something new to report. Miss Katie had a knack of somehow knowing everything that happened to everyone in the surrounding area. Apart from being a snoop, she was a sweet old lady and the person entrusted by her mother to keep an eye on Coco.
On any given day, Coco would listen closely to what the old lady had to say. Her mother was forever saying, ‘Older people acquire knowledge, younger people acquire experience.’ Sometimes, it was out of duty that Coco listened to the old lady. Tonight, as far as Coco was concerned, Miss Katie was speaking pure gibberish. Nothing she said made sense to Coco. It wasn’t interesting until the old lady mentioned the TV news. Coco knew it would eventually come but Miss Katie was subtle.
“Saw that, ah, music producer. What’s his name?” she asked. Coco couldn’t decide right away if she was feigning amnesia to get her involved in the conversation or the old lady had really forgotten.
“You talking about Eric Ascot?”
“Oh yeah, yeah, that’s the one,” Miss Katie said and without waiting for any further input, she continued. “Seems like someone tried to rob him and he shot the guy. Damn thug killed one of the girls.”
“Kamilla Davis.”
“Were you there when the ruckus was going on, Coco?” asked Miss Katie.
“Miss Katie, you knew that’s where I went after I called you from the diner.”
“That was yesterday, right?” Miss Katie asked but before Coco could give an answer, the old lady continued. “You gotta forgive me, girl. The memory goes when you get to be my age.”
Coco looked at the old lady knowing she meant well. Coco wanted to say something that would make this awkward moment better. “Aw Miss Katie, you’re not that old. You’re still young.”
“No, Coco, I’m an old lady. Come July, I’ll be seventy years old but you won’t see me taking those Botox shots or having no face lift or none o’ that plastic surgery thing. I don’t mind growing old gracefully.”
“You’ve got quality genes. You’ll be forever young.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. I like to think I’ll stay yo
uthful if my heart stays young.”
“Oh, let me find out that you dabbling in poetry, Miss Katie.”
“No, my time is gone, Coco. I leave all that poetry and rhyming up to you.” She walked over and patted Coco’s shoulders. “You care for some of my sweet potatoes crushed in butter? I’ve got some corn on the cob and chicken smothered with bacon over there too.”
“Hmm, hmm, that’s what smells so good? How could I say no? It sounds too delicious to pass up, Miss Katie,” Coco said as she reached up to hug the older lady. “Thanks for everything,” she said.
“You’re more than welcome, sweetheart.”
“You had said my mom called?”
“Yeah, girl, you know your mom. She’s always worried about you. When she told me you had called and told her that she shouldn’t worry, you know that whole thing started her worrying even more. Oh my Lord, that lady called at least a dozen times.”
“I hear you. I know how my mom can get,” Coco said as she sipped from her cup.
“Coco, you know your mother is a worrier.”
“Yep, she do be going bananas with that,” Coco added.
“Just like my mother,” the old lady leaned closer. “My mother was born under the sign of the crab. She sure was crabby,” Miss Katie said with a big laugh.
“Was she, huh?” Coco asked with a smile.
“Oh, you don’t wanna hear this,” Miss Katie said with surprising seriousness.
“But I’m sure you loved her anyway.”
“Well, she was my mother so how could I not love her? She carried me for nine months. Plus, you only get one, child. I’ll love her always.”
“Sometimes though, did you ever wish you could take back that love?”
“Of course, ‘specially when she beat me with branches but the Bible teaches us that you’ve got to love your parents and honor and cherish them forever. This is so that your days won’t be made shorter. Love your parents and your days will be long on this earth. That’s what the good book says.”
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