He looked at Chloe as he waved her off and said, “What the fuck ever, I am not going to feed into your fat ass today.”
I sat there in a rage. I started to breathe hard as I jumped up off the floor and wanted to punch him in the face. I yelled, “Brian, you think I am fucking stupid!” Before I knew it, I lost my temper and slapped the shit out of Brian, “Chloe is right! I’m in this condition because of you. I am always feeling this way because of your ass. Where is that skanky diseased bitch? If she is what you want, she can have your damaged ass! I’m done!”
He said, “What you...”
I cut him off, “Don’t play dumb with me, asshole. I saw you and Angel hiding in the corner of the bleachers. Hugging, touching and kissing. I saw it all! I saw you touching her STD’s skanky cat, I saw you kissing her and I heard what you said. I leaned forward, punched him in the chest and tried to punch him in the face, but he caught my hand and moved his head back as he struggled and yelled, “Bree! Stop! Stop, Bree!”
Everyone was crowded around us and holding me back. I tried to break lose to get to him, but there were too many people. I was so angry and never knew this side of myself. I always tried to be the bigger person. I couldn’t take it anymore. I am tired of being the “good girl”. I am so tired of always being the one people can call on when they need something. I am so tired of this shit. I tried to get my hands on him. I yelled and I tried to run up on him again, “Get the fuck out of here, you low-down dirty piece of shit. You ain’t shit! It is officially over.”
After trying for so long, I wore myself out.
He looked at me with a nasty, dirty smile, “You act liked you didn’t give a shit. I don’t see you shrugging your shoulders now.” He continued as he walked away, turned around and said, “I told you I could find someone better than you. Angel was more than happy to take your place.” He straightened up his face, “Look at you. You can’t live without me.”
Chloe ran up to him, “You are a punk bitch and a fucking coward. You can have nasty STD Angel. She’s a thirsty nasty skank ho who will open her herpes legs up to anybody. I hope you get blisters all over your lips and dick. You will get your day, Brian.”
Brian laughed, “Damn, Chloe do you have herpes? You know you have the side effects down to a tee!” Chloe looked at him as she squinted her eyes, “I pay attention in class, dummy!” He walked off looking satisfied and said, “Yeah, we all will have our day.”
I was sweaty and tired. I sat on the bench, laid my head on my knees and let it out all as I cried and cried. I felt so stupid. I couldn’t believe I let myself be played. I felt like a used fool. I gave him so much of me; and the only thing I got out of this dysfunctional relationship was hurt and pain.
I saw Simone’s shoes in front of me. She sat down beside me on the bench, rubbed my back and said, “Bree. I am so sorry. I saw them talking, smiling, and very friendly with each other. I saw them being touchy before you walked in, but I was going to tell you after practice. I apologize. I should have said something before-hand.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled.
Emma, sat beside me on the bench, hugged me and said, “Bree, let it all out. Do not hold it in. Let it go. You don’t have to say anything. Sometimes saying nothing at all is best.”
Chloe rubbed my back and added, “My Yin Yang, shake it off. One thing’s for sure, they better be lucky I wasn’t here, because I would have busted their ass out! No offense, Simone, but you should have said something. How could you see what was going on and not interrupt their lowest-of-the-low shitty connection? That was wrong of you not to say anything at all. That is what I do not like about you, you’re always quiet when you need to speak up.”
Simone looked at Chloe and said, “Well, it wasn’t my story to tell.”
Emma looked as if she had a bitter taste in her mouth and said, “Back up, you just told Bree you were going to tell her, but now it’s not your story to tell. What sense does that make? Either you were going to tell her or it wasn’t your story to tell. Which one is it?
With tears, all over my face, I told them, “It doesn’t matter. What happened, happened.”
Emma and Chloe said at the same time, “Bree, it does matter.”
Chloe rolled her eyes, balled up her fist and said, “I really should beat your ass right now. How can you call yourself Bree’s friend? Bree, see I told you Simone is a tacky, sneaky, selfish bitch, and looks out only for herself.”
Simone turned around, laughed, and said, “Tacky bitch? This tacky bitch is about to get up in your ass.”
Chloe ran up to Simone, got in her face and said, “Yeah, you heard me right You are a tacky, sloppy bitch that has no loyalty. I want to see you beat my ass.”
Chloe punched Simone in the lip, she swung at her again and punched her in the eye.
I jumped up yelling, “Help me, Emma!” Emma said, “Nope, I’m going to let this tacky bitch get her ass beat. She needs one good ass-whipping because she’s always spreading rumors like wildfire and lives up to them. I want to see her get her ass beat. I would jump in, but it wouldn’t be a fair fight. I want her ass next.”
While Emma was talking, I was trying to get Chloe off of Simone. Chloe was on top of Simone going in left and right as she called her all kinds of names. With each hit she said something. She hit Simone again and said, “This is for starting a rumor saying the football team ran a train on me.” Chloe hit her again, “This is for lying about Bree last year, saying she takes steroids, knowing she has asthma, and she got kicked off the cheerleading team because you wanted to be captain.”
Last year was pure hell. I wanted to let Chloe beat her ass, but I couldn’t let Chloe ruin her life over Simone. As I was rumbling with both of them, tired and didn’t have any strength left in me, I yelled, “Enough! Enough, Chloe!” I was being thrown here and there. A couple of teachers broke through the crowd and yelled, “What’s going on?”
As I was being hit all over my body, I yelled, “You see what’s going on! Y’all help me!” I yelled again, “Chloe, stop, you are going to beat her to death!” More and more people came to help me get Chloe off Simone. Someone yelled, “Simone finally got her ass beat!” People were laughing and yelling, “It’s about time! I bet next time she’s going to keep her dirty mouth shut!”
Everything from there just faded in the background. I never imagined today would turn out like this.
4
Chapter four
Over the weekend, I walked around looking like a
zombie. I didn’t go to the game; I didn’t feel like cheering. Plus, I didn’t want to see Brian. I called off work because I didn’t want to be bothered with anyone. I felt sick. I guess this is what “love-sick” feels like.
My mother knocked on my door as she slightly pushed it open. She had on her silk rose pink Soma’s pajamas. Her pants slightly touched her cotton rose pink slippers. I was surprised she noticed something was wrong because she’s always working and never pays attention.
“Breana, honey, are you okay? Are you sick?” she asked.
I had on my purple nightcap. My nightcap complimented my nightgown. I was comfortable under my comforter. I took the covers off my face and said, “No, I am not okay.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
Again, I was surprised. I said, “Really?”
She replied, “What you mean, really? You know I am always here if you need me!”
I said softly, “To be honest, Mom, no, I didn’t know that. You are always so busy. When I want to talk, you are never around. If you are around, you are always too busy to talk. If you do ask about anything, you are more concerned about cheerleading and it seems like my popularity as well. As long as I am “well known” and “accepted” by everyone you are good to go—but I never thought you cared about my feelings.”
My mother asked, “Breana, is that how you really feel?”
“Yes,” I answered truthfully.
I added, “Mom, you hardly ask
me how was my day. If you do it’s only about my classes, grades, cheerleading, but it is never sincerely or heartfelt, Breana, how are you feeling today.”
I rolled up in the fetal position, respectfully turned my back and said softly, “I am used to it—so it doesn’t really matter. I make the best of what I am given when it comes to our relationship. That is why I talk to Dad, because he takes the time out to listen. Mommy, I feel like it is all about status to you. Like, when some mothers are stage moms when it comes to their children’s acting career. You are a status mother when it comes to me and Summer because everything is all for show. I am not that type of person. I live life day by day without seeking the approval of others. I do not care what they think about me. My life is about making me happy. If I am not happy then, who will be happy for me? Who will make me happy? Nobody, because happiness starts within me first.”
“I never knew you felt that way. Are you unhappy? Do you really think I am a quote “status” mother who seeks the approval of others?” she asked, as she sat on my bed and rubbed my back.
“Mommy, it seems like you only make time for Luke. You never make time for your girls. When I came on my cycle for the first time, I told Daddy before I told you because you weren’t around. You were at work. When you came home that night, I was sleep, and you already left for work the next day. When you found out I was on my cycle that was like five months later. I decided not to tell you because you never had time.” I said numbly.
I turned over, sat up and sat back on my pillow. I pulled my covers up to my stomach and said, “Mommy, I am not trying to hurt your feelings but you never make time for Summer or me. I make sure I give Summer attention because I want her to know she has me in her corner. I want her to know she can always come and talk to me and that I will always be there. There were times when Summer needed to talk to you, but either you weren’t home because of work or you were too busy in your office writing up contracts. The only time we really have a conversation is at the dinner table when we all talk about our day but never talk about what is really going on in our lives. After dinner, you go back to your office and start where you left off. That is why I said Summer and I are used to it now.”
She looked shocked as she rubbed my leg and said once again, “Breana, I never knew you and Summer felt this way. I didn’t think you two needed me as much as you are saying.”
I looked at my mom with tears in my eyes. They didn’t fall, because they were tears of frustration, hurt and pain. They were tears of ‘how could you not know?’ I asked her, “Mom, why would you think Luke needed you more than your girls? Luke has you and Daddy in his corner. Summer and I only have Daddy. We, as your girls, will always need you.” Tears started to roll down my cheek and my voice trembled as I said, “We needed you, Mom.” My mom gave me a hug, “My sweet Breana, come here.”
As she was hugging me, I said, “Mom, if you didn’t understand or know, you do treat Summer and me as if we are status symbols. We know you want to be proud of us but when it comes to your girls it is all about numbers. Such as, what are our grades looking like; are we number one in the school? (Popularity-wise). That is why I ran for prom queen. To let you see I am well known, but Mommy, I do not care if people know me or not. As long as I am learning something about myself every day, what other people think of me doesn’t matter. Just like I tell Summer, we should always be unapologetic for our flaws and all. I love myself, and I am happy with the way I am. Every day, I try to improve something about myself, but Mommy, I do not need anyone’s approval. You make Summer and feel that we need the world’s approval to make it in life. The world will lie to us and leave us where we stand. I teach Summer to be true and honest with herself. I never understood your motives.”
My mother looked as if this was the first time she’d heard Summer’s and my concerns. We had a family meeting about a year ago and expressed our thoughts—and nothing changed. Summer and I took it for what it was worth, made the best of it, and moved on.
“I apologize if you and Summer feel this way. I tried raising my girls different from how I was raised. I guess I fell into my mother’s trap because I was always taught to make sure the world approved of me. If not, I wouldn’t ever have anything in life. By being in a biracial family. I felt like I always had something to prove to someone of every color. My father’s dark rich color wasn’t good enough for the world. He worked for city hall until he died. He was a black educated smart man with multiple talents, but it wasn’t good enough for the world. He never was accepted or acknowledged for his brain—only for what he could do for others to gain them profit. Just because my mother is white, her skin didn’t hold any value because she married a black man. Back in our time, believe it or not, she was called a “nigger lover”. You would have thought that those days have gone. No, baby, there are still people who use those terms freely.”
I looked at my mother as she continued. “As for my siblings—my brother had it hard because he was always told by people he wasn’t good enough because he was black. My brother Trip always told your Aunty Piper and me to never let anyone tell us otherwise. He preached to us on a daily basis that we are a human race and that our color doesn’t define us.”
My mother continued, “I made the choice to be a “people pleaser” because I wanted everyone to like me. I didn’t want to fight every day. I made the decision to let what people thought of me define me. That is how I become the most popular girl in school, prom queen, captain of the cheerleading squad, etc. Because it mattered what people thought of me. Your grandmother told me to do what I had to do to be accepted.”
As I continued to look at her, I was disgusted. I didn’t feel any sympathy for her. I didn’t know her struggles caused her pain, nor did I walk in her life on a daily basis, but I do not believe in lowering your human rights to get where you ‘fit’ to gain approval of others. I felt like my mother sold her soul to people who used her and they knew Vanessa would do anything to be liked and wanted by others.
I said, “So you wanted Summer and me to dislike ourselves for the approval of others?”
My mother replied, “No. That wasn’t my intention. I wanted you to be liked and loved by other people.”
I tried to maintain my composure when I asked her, “Mommy, how did all of that make you feel?” She replied, “It made me feel good and accepted.” “Accepted. Wanted. Used. And afraid to speak up for who you were as a person because you didn’t want to fight the battle of racism?” I asked. “Breana, I didn’t know any better,” my mom answered.
“What did Grandpa say about all of this?” I asked. “He didn’t know,” she answered. “I’m sure he would have been ashamed,” I told her. “Why do you feel like you couldn’t be a better mother to Summer and me than Grandma was to you?” I asked with a curious voice. “I tried, but I see I failed at it,” she said, as her tears began to flow.
“Summer and I needed, and until this day, still need your attention, love, and support. We need your ears to listen, we need your arms to hold us, just like you did just now. We need your hands to rub our backs when we are down and out. Your touch will let us know things will be okay without words. Do you remember Summer and me voicing how we felt during our family meeting?” I asked. My mother sat there in a daze. I asked again, “Momma, you don’t remember the family meeting last year? Summer and I talked about how we felt. The same topic of conversation as now.” “No, Bree. I do not remember,” she said, as if she was trying hard to remember. I didn’t have any remorse and I was frustrated. “Don’t worry about it, Mom. I am okay. Summer will be okay too. We will be okay.” “Bree, talk to me. I am here. I want to be here,” my mom said as she sincerely looked concerned.
I looked at my mom and told her, “Mommy, I want you to be here. But I do not want you to tell us to lower our standards to make other people happy. Honestly, Mommy, you shouldn’t lower your standards either to make other people happy. I understand you have been that way all your life, but Mommy, it is time to change that.
It is time to learn who you are as a person, love on yourself, and accept Vanessa for her flaws and all.”
My mother smiled, “What have I done to deserve such a wonderful daughter?” I hugged her and said, “Children sometimes can teach adults and our parents a thing or two. We learn from each other regardless of how small or big we are. By the way, you have two wonderful daughters!”
She had tears rolling down her cheeks. I said, “Mommy, you are going to make me cry too.” We were both wrapped in each other’s arms and we rocked each other from side to side, crying. My mother said as she held me tighter, “It is time for a change. I am going to be a better mother. I am going to learn more about myself. I am going to love on me and work on being unapologetic for my flaws and all.”
I hugged her as tightly as I could, “I believe for some things it is too late, but in a situation like this—it’s never too late for change. It’s never too late to become a better person.” I looked at my mom, wiped her tears off her cheeks and said, “Mommy, I am glad we had this talk. Most importantly, I am proud of you!” My mom replied, “Thank you, Breana. That touched my heart. I am so proud of you too. After all these years, you’ve taught me a valuable lesson. Thank you again. I am here to listen and I want to hear what is going on with you.”
I took it for what it was worth to give her a chance. Since she had time, I was going to take advantage and take her up on her offer. “Brian broke up with me,” I told her. “Again,” my mother said. She continued, “How many times is that boy going to break up with you?”
I noticed she didn’t say, I told you so. “I don’t know, too many times,” I replied. “What happened?” my mom asked. “He got mad because I didn’t have time for him last week and because I didn’t answer my phone the other day,” I replied. I continued, “What really made him mad was, I didn’t buy him pizza.”
Unapologetic for My Flaws and All Page 6