Chapter One
It’s Mother’s Day and I wondered if calling my mother really made me a great daughter. Here I stood in the mirror feeling dead inside as my phone buzzed with a text message of her bragging about James taking her on a cruise. I did not bother to respond, assuming it would be best to just leave her a voicemail seeing as how our conversations constantly take a wrong turn and somebody ends up in their feelings. That somebody is always me. I am already trying to soothe the hurt of my heart and mind in this bathroom mirror depressed listening to all the breakup songs I could find from the 90s. I have felt emptiness before, but nothing could compare to how broken and empty I feel this morning. Granted she is the only mother that I have but listen if I could have picked my parents it would have never been Shirley Ann Ward or that deadbeat Jeffery Adams. This is what loving somebody from a distance looks like. I guess. My mother is one who can notice everything about everybody else’s child while neglecting her own. She knew when my best friend started having sex. She knew when some girl down the street got pregnant and was hiding it. She knew who was fighting and cheating and of course selling drugs and going to jail. The neighborhood know it all. The Tea Queen. The very reason all of the neighborhood would hang out with her. They loved her and felt like she really understood them because she did not have to hear a lot or ask much to tell somebody their whole life’s story. All she ever told me was she would know when I would start having sex as well because I was going to walk different, smell different, my hips would spread, and all that jazz. When I lost my virginity to Calvin, I tried to pay attention to my walk and wash my body more but after a while, I figured she knew I was no longer a virgin and knew who I was having sex with. As years went on it no longer mattered to me if she knew and that is why I never said anything to her about him. As for as I was concerned, if she did not already know then it clearly was not meant for her to know. Now when I need a mother’s love the most, I know I would be a fool to turn to her. Why would I add on to the horrible image she already sees in me? I can be a miserable fat black walrus looking bitch on any given day. I refuse to be that every day just to say I have a relationship with my mother.
All last night I dreamt of the most precious little baby girl that I wish I could meet. I would wake up several times and go back to sleep but still, I dreamt of her. She has the biggest hazelnut eyes. The type of eyes I could just get lost in. Her skin looked silky smooth with a head full of ginger-colored hair. She is all dressed up from head to toe wearing the prettiest red dress and matching socks with the ruffles on them that I have ever seen. When I look at her, I see myself and the man I loved all wrapped into one with a beautiful red bow like a cherry on top of a sundae. Her smile shines so brightly making it obvious that she is a happy and loved baby. Seems like she was made just for me and yet no matter what or how I did it, I could not hold her. I could not pick her up. Every single time I tried, she started to cry as if I have disturbed her peace. I would give anything to comfort her and calm her, but she rejected every effort I made. This precious baby girl dissolved into a blob of blood in her crib. I was screaming at my loudest, still, no one came to my rescue. I woke up each time with fresh tears rolling down my face. It’s been over two months ago that I was at the clinic getting rid of what I thought was the biggest mistake of my life and ever since then I’ve had these dreams of what could’ve been with my baby girl. From the moment I saw the two lines on that pregnancy test I never stopped to think, to pray, or even question it. I did not consider any other options because I knew I did not have another choice.
When I decided this pregnancy wasn’t for me, I should have pulled my big girl panties up and handled my business alone because when I told Calvin, he cussed me out, broke up with me, and truly broke my heart. I ended up at the clinic by myself. It felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest as I waited for my name to be called. They had me go back and forth to different people. A nurse confirmed my pregnancy with an ultrasound while a therapist went over my emotions and reasons for the abortion. For once in my life I was honest with somebody other than my best friend and I could feel the judgment seeping from her pores. She referred me to Dr. Simone Juelz for further counseling if I begin to experience Post-Abortion Syndrome. I tried to be positive while opting for the non-surgical route. The nurse gave me the first pill to stop the growth of the fetus. Somehow a part of me felt like it would be easier. I spent the next thirty-six hours apologizing to this baby until I took the second pill that would force the miscarriage. They gave me a Vicodin prescription for the pain, and I chose not to get it filled. I wanted to suffer for allowing myself to be put in this situation. A decision I later regretted.
Within hours of taking the second pill, I started to feel cramps that got stronger as the days grew longer. It was debilitating causing me to bury myself under my covers away from the world. I could not walk, talk, or eat. I was losing weight and my grades dropped drastically. It was emotionally and physically draining but seeing my unborn in clumps of blood is what truly broke me down into nothing. I wanted to be a mother. I wanted to love this baby, but I knew this was for the best for both me and baby. The most painful experience of my life. Despite me doing everything I can to forgive myself, it seems pretty much impossible. I almost killed myself from blood loss but apparently this is all normal. I would love to confide in Shirley because she is my mother. Just once I wish she could hold me and tell me everything will be okay, but I know that is something she could never do. There was a time when my mother was a mother but that was many moons ago.
Fifth grade is when everything changed. That is when I started developing breasts. It is as if they grew overnight and refused to stop. I went from mosquito bites to a C cup in no time. My butt was not far behind either. At first, I was feeling myself because the cutest boys were starting to notice me. Of course, I was enjoying the attention but after a while it all turned sour. Older men were noticing me too. Most of them knew how old I was. They just did not care while the rest simply refused to even believe me when I told them I was only eleven years old. They would call me all kinds of liars and bitches as I was walking away. By the time, I started junior high, I was labeled the sixth-grade hoe and had never even been kissed. Everybody just knew I was having sex based on how big my boobs and butt were. Shirley stayed flipping out! She was acting like everybody else. I felt completely isolated and confused all throughout middle school. It was like the entire world was against me because of something I had no control over. It was depressing, and it caused me to cut myself. I would never cut deep enough to end up hospitalized however there were a few times I thought about ending it all. Eventually, I resorted to food and found comfort in eating. Hell, I believed if I was fat, then no man would want me. I would rather deal with fat slurs because I ate too much than to deal with being an unkissed hoe. I knew my mom could not trip about my breasts if I had rolls and a stomach to match. Man, was I ever wrong! Being fat did not stop a damn thing. Older men still wanted me. It was more older men liking me after being fat than it was before. The ones that liked me when I was slim thick, loved me now that I was plump. The guys that did not believe my age, still called me liars and bitches, they just added fat to the lineup of insults. I still got picked on at school and for each pound I gained my mother hated me more and more. There was no escaping the ridicule.
I pushed the pain to the back burner when I heard my phone ringing. Today is supposed to be an exciting day because my bestie boo is coming to stay with me for a week. It has been a couple of years and we have got a ton of catching up to do. Even though I cannot wait to see her, I already cannot wait for her to leave. I did not think any of this would be happening when she planned her visit. Now, I would rather just deal with my demons without having to play hostess to my best friend. I just cannot bring myself to tell her about the abortion or the breakup with Calvin. Aleccia would completely chew me out about even being pregnant. Last time I checked I was grown which means I am free to do whatever I please. Her over-opinionated nature could ruin this ten-year friendship especially with the way I am currently feeling. She knows the last thing I want to hear is anything negative about Calvin, even if we are no longer together. I swear if laying down in bed all day, staring at the ceiling was an option, then I would do it with ease, however life continues no matter what bad choices you have made.
Aleccia should have been here hours ago but hopefully she has stopped by the liquor store to get our favorite Alize. I done cleaned my apartment spotless with her favorite meal waiting on the stove. I answered the phone, “Heffa, where are you?”
“Uh, what?!”
I looked down at the phone and the caller ID read Charms. I laughed and replied, “My bad girl I thought you were Aleccia. What’s up though?”
She sighed, “Damn, so you don’t know huh?”
Feeling really annoyed, “Know what Charmaine?!”
She sounded kind of out of breath as she said, “Aleccia was just found dead girl!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?!” I was completely confused and pissed. Why on earth would Charmaine play games like that. How could Aleccia be dead when she is on the way here to my apartment?! I hung the phone up and started calling Aleccia. No answer. I called repeatedly and still no answer. I left a voicemail. I sent text messages, Facebook messages, and even Instagram messages. I was all over social media and they all read and said the same thing. My best friend was dead. Aleccia was not dead! She just wasn’t! This had to be some kind of sick joke that Aleccia and Charmaine were playing or something. At least that’s what I hoped it was. I don’t know what is going on, but I know she is not dead. I had no doubt about it. As I paced, I began to tremble, waiting on Aleccia to hit me back up. I tried my best to remember Pierre’s number, but it was hopeless. Aleccia did not have much family and the little family she did have, could not stand me. I’m convinced Charmaine is lying. Not everything that comes out of her mouth is trustworthy anyway. The girl is a compulsive liar and if this bitch done worked my nerves up over some bullshit, I’m going to really fuck her up. I wanted to drive six hours to Aleccia’s house but what good would that do when she was supposed to have been here at least two hours ago. I felt stuck and helpless. I needed answers and nowhere to truly turn to. I searched WLPA’s website hoping there was nothing to see but there it was:
“Today a deadly wreck has claimed the life of a Jackson native. Our Lindsey Hinton joins us live along I-20 – Lindsey?
We are here along I-20 in Vicksburg – Where further up the interstate – A tragic accident has happened earlier this evening – Just past Highway 61. I-20 has been blocked for several hours now. Authorities say the 2014 Mercedes-Benz was headed Eastbound on I-20 when it crossed the median and collided head-on into a 2002 Toyota Avalon – 22-year-old Supermodel and Jackson native, Aleccia Bennet was instantly killed. We’ll keep you updated as more information comes in.”
I sat there frozen as my entire world collapsed around me. My best friend. My ride or die. My homie. My sister. The one person in the world that knew me inside and out was gone.