Copyright© Faydra D. Fields. All rights reserved.

My legacy may not manifest in a child who’s biologically mine,
but I can nurture and grow my gifts and leave that legacy to shine.

I have other mothers whose wombs I didn’t fill,
so not being someone’s mother isn’t necessarily a done deal.

I know that I’m blessed both coming and going,
 and when I’ve finished grieving that’s the face I’ll be showing.

Copyright© 2009, Faydra D. Fields. All rights reserved.

This is the poem that came to my heart yesterday when the doctor told me that I am more than likely never going to be able to have children. I was very upset and sad, to say the least. However, that is his report. God may have another. We’ll see. If the reports happen to be the same, “Hallelujah, anyhow.”

“Yeah. My scalp is so sore. She pulls harder than she has to, I think.” Xavari used the flat of your palm to pat the top of her head vigorously. She didn’t want to scratch her scalp, so this was the only way to relieve the itching sensation. She felt gingerly around the edges of her hair and the tension bumps were evident to her touch. She was lost in thought, trying to figure out how she was going to sleep without putting the back of her head on her pillow, when Emmanuel’s voice startled her.

“You ready to talk to me?” He felt her jump, but he didn’t turn to face her.

“Huh?” Xavari knew that he knew she’d heard him, but she was trying to get her thoughts together. She still didn’t know if he’d heard just the last sentence of her conversation with her sister or more. She didn’t want to give away too much, but she also didn’t want to get caught lying. Emmanuel hated to be lied to.

“Xavari. Please. You heard me.” Emmanuel rolled over onto his back only to realize that Xavari wasn’t looking at him.

“I thought you were going to call before you stopped by.” Xavari kept her back to Emmanuel and rubbed her index finger between the cornrows feeling for more bumps. She was debating whether to put alcohol on her scalp, but she couldn’t stand the thought of her head being on fire. Emmanuel would usually put the alcohol on for her and blow on her scalp to cool it off as he dabbed between each braid. She wasn’t sure she could ask him to do that tonight.

“Xavari. Look at me.” Emmanuel waited for what seemed an eternity for Xavari to turn around on the bed and look at him. Finally, she reluctantly did so.

“What, Emmanuel?” Xavari kept feeling her scalp. She looked at Emmanuel briefly and then lowered her eyes.

“Look at me.” Emmanuel touched her leg. Xavari felt the tears forming in her eyes.

“What?” She couldn’t force her eyes to meet his.

“Hey,” he said as he moved slowly over to her and put his head in her lap so she had to look at his face.

“What, Emmanuel?” Xavari turned her face to the other side, so she was now looking at the top of Emmanuel’s scalp. A tear escaped her chin and dropped on the top of his head.

“Zee, what’s wrong with you?” Emmanuel didn’t have anger in his tone. His words dripped with concern.

“Nothing. My scalp hurts.” Xavari knew it was a lame excuse, but she was grasping at straws. Why didn’t she want him to know about the pregnancy? She kept asking herself that. She knew he wouldn’t be disappointed. She knew he was be overjoyed. That was it. That’s why she didn’t want him to know. He wouldn’t see this as a problem for her. He’d see it as a blessing, pure and simple. She knew he wanted more children. She just didn’t want to be the one to give him another child so soon after having Xavier. The thought of labor made her stomach churn.

Xavari was embarrassed to admit that Xavier and the new baby would only be about eleven months apart in age. Regina was right. Her body hadn’t bounced back from the difficulties of her first birth. She’d gotten her figure back without a problem, but the delivery had left her with a hernia and several months of incontinence. The incontinence she’d overcome with regular exercises, but the hernia flared up every now and then. Her OB/GYN had given her strict instructions to allow her body time to heal before she decided to have another baby, and Xavari had sat right in the examining room and vehemently protested that she would not find herself pregnant again any time soon. Now here she was. Pregnant again. Two times during her 19th year of life. She could kick herself for being so stupid.

“You’re crying for nothing?” Emmanuel was calm. He knew she’d talk in her own time. He just rested his head in her lap and waited.

“I’m just tired and my scalp hurts and…”

“Xavari, how many children do I have?” Emmanuel kept his voice even. Xavari didn’t say anything. She just closed her eyes.

“Xavari, you do know how many times I’ve been around a pregnant woman, right?” Emmanuel spoke as evenly and gently as he could. Xavari still said nothing.

“Baby, you do realize I know you’ve missed two periods, right?” Emmanuel felt Xavari’s body begin to shake. He didn’t hear her crying, but he felt her tears falling onto the top of his head.

“This is not the worst thing that can happen to you, Zee. You act like it’s the end of the world. Why didn’t you want to tell me?” Emmanuel finally lifted his head out of Xavari’s lap and sat beside her. He put his arm around her and leaned her head on his shoulder. She cried silently.

“Talk to me, Zee. I know you had a hard time with Xavier, but I was there for you then, and I’ll be here for you this time. Children are a blessing from God. Don’t you know there are women who’d kill to have a baby, and here you are about to have your second?” Emmanuel felt Xavari’s body stiffen. She raised her head off his shoulder and finally looked him in the face with red, tear-stained eyes.

“You think I should be happy about this? You think I should be thanking God for this?” She didn’t raise her voice, but Emmanuel could hear the anger behind her words.

“I can’t tell you how to feel about this. I’m just trying to put things in perspective for you.” Emmanuel looked down at his hands which were crossed in his lap.

“I have nothing, Emmanuel. I don’t have a decent job, I don’t have a decent place to live and Regina is certain I’m going to drop out of college because I can’t handle having this baby and the one in the other room.” Xavari fought to keep the tears from flowing again.

“Regina doesn’t know what’s going to happen. Why are you letting her fill your head with negativity? I bet she tried to get you to have an abortion, didn’t she?” Emmanuel waited for Xavari to tell him he was wrong, but he’d been around Regina enough to know what she thought and how she thought. It hadn’t taken long to discern the negative spirit that surrounded her. He didn’t exactly dislike Regina, but there was something about her that always rubbed him the wrong way. She was a pessimist about everything, and she was the big sister who became a mother to Xavari when their mother died of breast cancer, so her influence over Xavari was indelible. He was pleasant to Regina for Xavari’s sake, but he didn’t like Regina hanging around too much. Xavari avoided the question all together.

“It’s probably going to happen just like Gina says. I’ll be too tired from dealing with Xavier and then I’ll just quit school, because I’ll be tired from carrying around a big belly.” She wanted Emmanuel to join her pity party.

“I can help you with Xavier. I can help you with school. If work becomes too much, you can quit.” Emmanuel really didn’t see the problem. Xavari had all the support she needed. Between him, Regina, their father and his parents, she didn’t have to make this sound so horrible.

“What makes you think I want to quit my job? I can’t be asking everybody for hand-outs. I have to work.” Xavari knew she was simply being argumentative, but she wanted to get a rise out of Emmanuel. He was always too calm and collected.

“You can work if you want to work, Zee. I’m just saying you don’t have to work. If you want to concentrate on Xavier and school, you can do that. You know I’ll help you.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re Mr. Big Bucks. You can take care of yourself, all your other kids, mine and me, too, huh?” Xavari’s tone was getting nastier.

“Uh, yeah. When you couldn’t work after you had Xavier, how did your bills get paid? Who took care of Xavier when you couldn’t pick him up? Who cleaned your apartment, washed your clothes, bought your groceries, cooked your food, bathed you when you hurt too badly to do it yours…”

“SHUT UP, EMMANUEL! Just shut up! Please!” Xavari clasped her hands over her ears. She couldn’t stand to hear anymore. He had done all those things and more, and she felt like she’d forever be in his debt. Right now, however, she didn’t want to be miserable by herself. She wanted to drag him along with her.

“I won’t be so lucky like Regina. No one’s going to want to marry me. You don’t even want to marry me. You don’t want to marry any of the women you have children with.” Xavari was trying to draw blood. She wanted to make Emmanuel feel as bad as she was feeling right now. Emmanuel wasn’t biting. He looked her square in the eyes.

“OK. Let’s get married. You want to wait until the baby’s born or you want to do it now?”

———-

This is Installment #10 of “The Pride.” If you missed the beginning, go to “The Pride: From the Beginning” to start at the first installment.

———-

Copyright© 2009, Faydra D. Fields, All rights reserved.

“That word is history, Momma.” Quantavianna had been helping her mother fill out job applications and other forms since she could read and write, which seemed like from the time she was born. Without her mother noticing, Quantavianna looked at Quantenerra and rolled her eyes skyward. Quantenerra mimmicked her sister and they smiled at one another.

“What does this sentence say?” Romina pointed to the sentence where history appeared. Quantavianna leaned over again and looked at the sentence.

“It says ‘Please include your job history for the last 10 years,’ Momma.” Quantavianna tried not to show her irritation. She preferred when Romina didn’t have paperwork to fill out, because she could get her homework done more quickly and go outside and play.

The kitchen was silent while Romina finished filling out the application. Quantavianna was bracing herself for more questions. Quantenerra was working on her math homework and Quantarius and Quantevisha, were practicing writing their names. Romina leaned to her right to look at the twins’ papers.

“You all are doing really good.” All her children had had a hard time learning to write their names. Romina hadn’t considered this when she’d given them all such long names. She just liked the fact the names were unique and started with “Qu.” She’d always liked the sound that “q” and “u” made when you put them together. The twins were four, and she insisted that they start learning to write their names. She wanted to make sure they were able to it flawlessly by the time they started kindergarden. Each day, before she started her homework, it was Quantenerra’s job to neatly print Quantarius’ and Quantevisha’s names on several sheets of paper, so the twins could practice writing and spelling their names.

The twins were both able to recognize every letter of the alphabet, even though Romina had refused to allow them to learn the alphabet song. She hated that song. She’d learned it, and it hadn’t helped her to spell or read well. It was a crutch, she thought. Even as an adult, she had to sometimes sing it to herself to remember a letter, but she never told anyone she did it that. With all her children, Romina had gotten flashcards, mixed them up and made her children learn their letters out of order. She was confident that when they saw a letter they actually knew what it was, as opposed to being about to remember them in the order of a song. Already, her twins were reading very simple books, and that pleased Romina. She’d always struggled with reading, spelling and even math in school, which is why she ended up in the slow classes.

“Quantavianna, look over this for me.” Romina handed her oldest child the job application and got up from the table to start dinner.

“Momma, this isn’t our phone number. You have the last two numbers backwards.” Quantavianna erased the phone number and wrote it over in much neater penmanship than Romina. This was how Quantavianna checked her mother’s forms. She convinced Romina to fill everything out in pencil, and then Quantavianna would erase what her mother wrote and fix all her many mistakes. Most days, Quantavianna just fixed the mistakes without pointing them out to her mother, but when she was feeling especially irritated Quantavianna made mention of some of the mistakes Romina made over and over again on all her paperwork. Quantavianna was feeling a little, extra irritated today.

“OK, just fix it, Quantavianna, and get back to your homework.” Romina tried not to sound annoyed. She hated having to ask her children to help her with reading and correcting her forms, bills and mail. Usually, Emmanuel helped her, but she wasn’t sure when she’d see him this week, and she wanted to try to find a better-paying job without him knowing about it.

“Did you mean to make yourself 52 years old?” Quantavianna tried to make her question sound like an innocent inquiry.

“No, Quantavianna,” Romina turned toward Quantavianna and slammed her open hand onto her hip. Quantavianna bowed her head as Romina stared hard at her.

“Sorry,” Quantavianna said quietly and finished erasing and rewriting the incorrect information on the job application. Quantavianna knew her mother’s information by memory now. She’d helped her with so many of these forms, it was just second-nature to her now.

“No, I’m sorry, sweetie,” Romina exhaled.

‘Momma, can I ask you a question?” Quantavianna walked over to her mother with the corrected application.

“Of course. Ask me anything.” Romina accepted the application from Quantavianna and pulled her into a close one-arm hug as she held the application in her other hand and read the changes.

“Can you really type 50 words a minute?” Quantavianna rested her head on her mother’s stomach.

“Uh, no,” Romina admitted embarrassed to have to confess this in front of all her children.

“Can you type at all, Momma?” Quantavianna knew she was treading on thin ice, but she felt compelled to press the issue. When her mother went out on job interviews that she was obviously not qualified for, she would come home in a bad mood and Quantavianna hated to live through the days of tears and depression.

“You see me type at the computer everyday. Why would you ask me if I can type?” Romina was trying very hard not to allow her temper to rise. She didn’t like the questions, but she tried to keep the channels of communication open, as well. She wanted to be the first person in her children’s lives to know what was going on in their minds. She didn’t want to have to hear it from a teacher or even their father. She wanted to be approachable. Her parents had not been approachable.

“Momma, typing on the computer to surf the web and typing for a job ain’t the same, I don’t think.” Quantavianna put her arms around her mother and kept her head on Romina’s stomach.

“What did I tell you about saying ain’t?” Romina was hoping to get the attention off herself.

“Sorry, Momma.”

“What did I tell you about always saying ’sorry’?” Romina hated when her children used that word. It was the word her father had used to describe her when she was growing up.

“I apologize, Momma.”

“That’s better,” Romina said and kissed Quantavianna’s forehead.

“Why are you trying to change jobs, anyway, Momma?” Quantenerra finished the last of her math homework and joined the conversation from her seat at the table. The twins were talking quietly amongst themselves in a language no one else could understand. It must have been about their writing, because they kept pointing to each other’s papers.

“I need more money. Y’all are getting bigger and so are the bills. When the twins start school next year, they’re going to need all those school supplies, lunchboxes, more clothes and everything. I need a better job.” Romina still had one arm around Quantavianna, but she put the application down on the counter next to her and wrapped her other arm around her oldest child.

“They want you to type,” Quantenerra asked.

“It’s a receptionist job, so I’ll have to type.”

“Momma,” Quantavianna began, “that application says you have to take a typing test. Are you going to be able to pass it?”

“I’m going to try.”

“How are you going to be able to keep your letters straight? You know you have trouble with mixing up your letters sometimes, Momma.” Quantavianna looked up at Romina. Romina looked down into Quantavianna’s face. Romina was silent for a long time. She gently pulled Quantavianna’s arms from around her and gestured for her daughter to go back to the kitchen table. No one spoke and even the twins stopped their chatter as they realized the tension in the room had grown thick. Romina changed the subject.

“Quantenerra, I’m coming to your school this week to volunteer, OK?” Romina smiled big, thinking this was something to which Quantenerra looked forward. She saw the quick eye-to-eye exchange between Quantavianna and Quantenerra and instinctively knew she was wrong.

“Uh, I thought you were trying to get a new job,” Quantenerra said without looking at Romina. Romina could hear the anxiety in Quantenerra’s voice.

“I am,” Romina started slowing, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t have time to get involved in your school activities. Hey. Look at me.” Quantenerra reluctantly raised her eyes to her mother’s face.

“Yes, Mommy.” Quantenerra forced herself not to look away from Romina. Romina stared at her middle child. She knew why Quantenerra didn’t want her to volunteer in her class. Romina had heard the children snickering behind her back when she couldn’t help them with what seemed to be simple words and simple math problems. Romina was the only mother who volunteered but never read a storybook to the class.

Romina remembered the humiliation of trying to read a book to Quantavianna’s first-grade class a few years ago, and she let all her children’s teachers’ know that she’d be happy to volunteer her time but she would not be reading during storybook hour. It was a small school, and all the teachers were aware of why Romina didn’t want to read. They’d all accepted all the other help Romina offered and never pressed the issue about storybook hour.

The one thing her children’s classmates and teachers did love about her visits were the goodies she brought with her. Romina may not have been able to read or do math well, but she could cook any mother in her children’s school under the table. She didn’t use recipes. She just had a talent for cooking the most delectable dishes. This was the one class in high schol she had excelled in once she convinced the teacher to allow her to create her dishes without having to rely on recipes.

“If I can’t make it this week, you promise not to be dissappointed?” Romina watched Quantenerra surpress a smile.

“Yes, Mommy. I promise.” Quantenerra wondered if the relief showed on her face.

“Well, I’ll let you know. I might be really busy.” Romina turned away from her children and started pulling cans of vegetables from the cupboard. She fought back her tears by taking deep breaths. She didn’t want her oldest girls to know she knew they were embarrassed by her. At that moment, the doorbell rang, and Romina motioned for her children to stay seated and walked past them to the front door.

She looked through the peephole, but she didn’t recognize the lady standing on the other side. She was dark-brown, very pretty and alone. Romina couldn’t understand why she wasn’t sure she should open the door. The woman didn’t look threatening. She looked young.

“Yes, who is at?” Romina spoke into the door with her eye still set closely to the peephole.

“I’m looking for Romina Morgan, please.” The lovely woman on the other side of the door stepped back a bit, realizing that she was probably being watched through the peephole. She smiled into the glass eye, and Romina found herself smiling a bit, too.

“And, you are?” Romina spoke into the door again.

“My name is Xavari. Forgive me for just showing up to your house like this, but when I called your number it was disconnected. We have a mutual friend.”

“Who,” Romina asked puzzled, thinking there wasn’t anyone they could know in common.

“Um. Emmanuel Freemont.” Xavari dropped her gaze as she said the name.

Romina stepped back from the door, unlatched the chain and opened it. She looked at the young lady and smiled.

“Sorry to bother you? Is this is bad time?” Xavari shifted uncomfortably but tried to pretend like it was the most natural thing for her to be knocking on a stranger’s door.

“You said you know Emmanuel,” Romina asked her.

“Yes,” Xavari said. Romina continued to smile warmly at her and Romina’s next words stunned Xavari.

“Is he the father of that baby in your belly?”

———-

This is Installment #9 of “The Pride.” If you missed the beginning, go to “The Pride: From the Beginning” to start at the first installment.

———-

Copyright© 2009, Faydra D. Fields, All rights reserved.

“Yes, son. I can agree to that.” Denise removed her fingers from William’s knee and sat back in her seat.

On the outside, it seemed that nothing had changed in her demeanor. Inside, Denise’s mind and heart immediately began to race. What news was William bringing to her? He’d been withdrawn and moody for about three months. When she’d mentioned this to Emmanuel, he’d laughed it off and said, “He’s probably smelling himself. You know how boys get at a certain age. He’s just a jumble of raging hormones, and some little girl probably has his nose wide open. You won’t let him date for another year, something I told you I don’t agree with, so he’s probably just unhappy about being treated like a baby.” Denise had taken Emmanuel’s explanation and not pressed the issue, but she wondered now if William had been sneaking around with some girl behind her back and had an accident. Denise thought to herself, “If he tells me anything other than I’m about to be a grandmother, I think I can handle it.”

“Like I said earlier, I did feel badly about walking in on Naomi in the bathroom. I just wasn’t thinking, and I opened the door before I thought.” William realized he’d said “thinking” and “thought” back-to-back. He tried to ignore the redundancy, but it kept playing over and over in his head. He was hoping his mother didn’t get hung up on that and stop listening to him. She was relentless about good grammar. He needed to set his mother up perfectly to drive home his points.

“William, I know you didn’t walk in on your sister on purpose, but she’s very self-conscious about her body right now. That’s the only reason she’s so upset with you about it. I was going to make her apologize for bumping you with her shoulder like that, but I think you earned it a little bit, beloved.” Denise spoke to her son warmly. She tried hard to block out the redundant sentence he’d just spoken to her. She knew if she nit-picked his grammar right now, he’d just clam up and go to his room. She wanted to hear what he had to say, because something in the pit of her stomach told her she wasn’t going to be happy when he was done talking.

“How do you think I feel, Mother? I made her cry so hard. She was so humiliated. I wish I could take it all back, but I really had to “go.” Mother, we’re outgrowing this place.” William still kept his eyes on his hands.

“I’m doing the best I can, beloved.” Denise sensed that this conversation was going in a direction she wasn’t interested in going, but she just let it ride.

“Yes, Mother. I know. I think you’re doing a fantastic job. It’s just that I feel like a burden to you.” William finally looked into his mother’s face. He didn’t look into her eyes, though. He knew if they made eye contact, she’d see right through him. He focused on a point between her upper lip and nose.

“A burden, William? When have I ever made you feel like a burden?” Denise thought to herself, “What the hell is he up to?”

“Yes, Mother. You’re out there working so hard to support the family, trying to make up for Dad’s inability to help more, and I’m growing into manhood and unable to get a job and help out financially.” William dropped his eyes again, feigning shame. He’d chosen the financial point to try to get his mother to say a phrase that was key to getting him to his next point. If he’d paid close enough attention to the way his father had handled Denise, and if he knew anything about his mother, the financial angle would net him the reward he was looking for.

“William, have I ever asked you to do anything other than get excellent grades and help Naomi with the little ones? Do you really think I expect you to step up and be the man of the house?” Denise looked at the top of her son’s head, because that was all he would show her. William heard bells and whistles going off in his head. She’d said the perfect phrase: man of the house.

“That’s the thing, Mother. I want to be a good man, a strong man, and you can’t teach me that. I need my father to teach me that.”

“OUT OF THE QUESTION, WILLIAM!’ Denise popped from her chair  and started pacing when she realized where he was going with the conversation. She couldn’t contain herself, even though she’d given William her word that she’d hear him out. She thought she would come unglued mentally if she heard him make the statement she knew was on his mind.

“Mother, please sit down. You agreed to hear me out before you gave your comments.” William remained cool and calm, like he’d seen his father do when dealing with Denise.

“No, William, no. The answer is no.” Denise kept pacing, but she lowered her voice, even though it had an anxious edge.

“Mother,” William said calmly, “you haven’t even given me a chance to say what I want to…”

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY, WILLIAM! I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS, SON, PLEASE! If you say it, I…please, son…please don’t go there.” Denise continued to pace and now she was hugging herself, arms wrapped so tightly under her breasts William thought she might crack a rib.

“Mother, please. I’m not trying to hurt you. I love you. You’ve done such a good job raising me to this point, but…”

“No, William, please don’t do this.” Denise couldn’t hold it together anymore. She burst into tears and William rushed to his mother. As angry as she was with him at that moment, and as much as she didn’t want him to touch her, she let herself sink into her oldest child’s arms. He was tall and broad like his father but with a slighter build than Emmanuel. She’d dreaded this day since he was born. She knew it would come, but she never prepared herself for it.

Denise thought that right now, in this moment, it was a blessing and a curse to have children who were well-educated and who knew how to use reason and logic to communicate. It was a blessing and a curse to have fostered open communication with her children all these years and have them be comfortable enough with her objectivity that they came to her about anything and everything. Denise had several years before lost the ability to say “because I said so” to William and Naomi, because she had encouraged them to respectfully question her directives and share their points of view and expect to be taken seriously and offered substantive information. It was all back firing on Denise right now.

“William, I’m going to let you say what you have to say, but I’m going to tell you this, so you’re very clear.” Denise was still leaning into her son.

“Yes, Mother. I’m listening.”

“Son, this is a line you cannot cross back over. You can never take back the words you’re about to speak to me in the next few seconds. Please, son, please think very hard about whether this is a line you want to cross. I’m not saying it’ll change my love for you, but think about how deep a wound this is going to leave on our relationship if you must make this point.” Denise backed away from William, still hugging herself, and looked up into his face. William finally looked into his mother’s eyes, and he saw the pain he was causing her. He did think for about three seconds and plowed ahead.

“I’d like to go live with my father,” he said in a rush of words. He didn’t notice a change in his mother’s face, but he saw something in her eyes raze. He felt himself panicking inside, but his face didn’t betray him. He looked steadily at his mother. He had to maintain his resolve. He braced himself for his mother’s next wave of tears, but they never came.

“You may not go live with your father.” Denise spoke crisply and with a sense of finality. She stepped further back from William, dropped her arms to her side and squared her shoulders. She matched her son’s gaze.

“Mother,” William began slowly, “with all the respect that is due you, and I concede you are owed and have all my respect, you can’t stop me from discussing this matter with my Dad.” William watched his mother’s eyes begin to blaze. His resolve was weakening by the moment. Denise was determined not to fall apart again. She knew William was right. She couldn’t stop him from going to Emmanuel with his request, and she couldn’t really stop William from moving out, but she just didn’t want to see her baby go. She hurt so badly, but she couldn’t make her case based on emotion. She couldn’t guilt him into staying. She knew he would only come to resent her and become more and more withdrawn and start taking it out on his brother an sisters.

They stood in silence looking at one another; both determined not to flinch first. They both jumped when they heard the phone ring. Neither moved to get it. After four rings, the phone went silent. They both assumed the call went to voicemail. A few seconds later, the door to Naomi’s room opened, and she saw her mother and brother in their dueling stances. Naomi almost retreated back into the room and closed the door, but the caller on the other end of the phone had been insistent.

“Excuse me,” Naomi said.

“Yes, beloved,” Denise responded very calmly and without taking her eyes off William. William continued to face down his mother, also.

“Mother, there’s a lady on the phone who insists on talking with you. I told her you were busy, but she said she must speak with you.” Naomi, standing as close to her door as possible holding the cordless phone unit, felt akward relaying the information in the midst of this showdown, neither her mother or brother willing to concede anything to each other.

“Ask who it is, Naomi,” Denise said still staring at William who was still staring at her. Denise saw that William’s brow was starting to moisten. She smiled inwardly.

“May I ask who’s calling, please?” Naomi spoke into the receiver. After asking the question, Naomi finally realized she had been silent too long, because it prompted Denise to ask her about the caller.

“Who is it, Naomi?” Denise and William were still eye-to-eye.

“Mother, she says you don’t know her, but she’s a friend of Dad’s.” Naomi rocked back and forth from her heels to her toes. She had a feeling this wasn’t good. This caused Denise to break her focal point.

“Excuse me. Did she give you a name?” Denise looked at Naomi.

“Za…Za…,” Naomi put the phone back to her ear and mouth to ask the woman to repeat her name. “She says her name’s Zavari, Mother, and she’s a friend of Dad’s.” Naomi realized her mother was now staring at her with the same gaze she had had trained on William; almost like she couldn’t believe this was her life. Without looking away from Naomi, Denise spoke.

“William, go to your room, and we’ll finish this conversation when I’m done with this call. Naomi, hang up the phone when I pick up in the kitchen.” Denise looked back and William who hadn’t moved. She gave him her best “you better do what I tell you to do and do it now” glare. After a few moments, he complied.

Once William was moving off toward his room, Denise moved toward the phone in the kitchen. She picked up the cordless phone unit and held it to her ear and mouth for a few seconds.

“Hang up the phone, Naomi.” Denise heard Naomi click off the line.

“Good night, Mother,” Naomi said quietly, with obvious disappointment in her voice, as she disappeared back into her room. Denise looked at the clock and realized it wasn’t Naomi’s bedtime yet. Her daughter knew her well enough to know that Denise wasn’t going to be in the mood for any more talking after this phone conversation was over.

“Yes, this is Denise. Zavari, is it? How may I help you?”

———-

This is Installment #8 of “The Pride.” If you missed the beginning, go to “The Pride: From the Beginning” to start at the first installment.

———-

Copyright© 2009, Faydra D. Fields, All rights reserved.

“Nothing,” Naomi said hoarsely. She was wiping down the glasstop dining area table and trying to avert her face from her mother. Naomi had cried so much and so hard before and during her conversation with William earlier that day that the openings of her eyes were just slits surrounded by puffiness. She’d tried hot and cold compresses to make the swelling go down, but nothing helped. Naomi was hoping her mother would come home much later and she would be in bed before she would have to answer questions.

“Naomi. Really. It’s been a long day. I know you better than you know yourself. Why have you been crying?” Denise placed her purse and keys on the table by the door and sat her briefcase in front of the table. She turned when she heard heavy feet padding into the room.

“Naomi, I said I was sorry. Mother, I told her I was sorry. I embarrassed her. I walked in on her in the bathroom.” William winked at his sister with the eye Denise couldn’t see. The front of his shirt, hands and arms were wet. He was bathing Benjamin and Sarah, and he’d rushed out of the bathroom when he heard Denise questioning Naomi. Naomi was a horrible liar, and he was certain Denise would lose her mind if Naomi told the truth. He had hurried to his sister’s rescue.

“William, we’ve talked about this. When the bathroom door is closed, you knock.” Denise put her hands on her hips and looked sternly at her son.

“Yes, Mother. I know. I wasn’t thinking. I apologized to her, like, 100 times. That’s one of the problems with having five people in a two-bedroom apartment with one bathroom,” William said as he threw his hands in the air in mock frustration. Naomi wondered why he felt it necessary to talk about the size of the apartment, but she had a sneaking suspicion William had been planning this ruse to further his own agenda. Naomi filed her feelings about his statement away in her mental rolodex. Denise turned her attention back to Naomi.

“What did William walk in on you doing in the bathroom that would get you so upset that you’d cry so hard that your eyes are almost swollen shut?” Denise sat in one of the chairs at the dining area table and began removing her sling-back pumps.

“I…I.” Naomi couldn’t think of a plausible lie. William came to her rescue again.

“She had on one of your bras and was putting tissue in it,” William blurted. Naomi’s eyes grew huge and she looked at her brother with astonishment. Her mouth agape, she couldn’t even fathom how to respond to that.

“WHAT?!?!” Denise shrieked with wide-eyed amusement. She threw her head back and laughed like it was going out of style. Naomi crossed her arms over her flat chest and pretended to be totally insulted. William joined in the laughter. Naomi’s radar was working overtime now.

“I tried to tell her it was nothing to be embarrassed about, but she cried and cried.” William wiped his hands on the front of his shirt.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry to laugh at you,” Denise said between hearty chuckles, “but it’s only funny because I remember doing the same thing with my mother’s bra. Come here.” Denise reached out her arm and extended a hand to Naomi. Naomi came around the table and took Denise’s hand. William went back into the bathroom to finish bathing the little ones.

“Mother, I can’t believe you were ever as flat as me when you were my age. I’m never going to have breasts and hips. All my friends are developed and I still look like a boy.” Naomi sat in her mother’s lap, and Denise put her arms around Naomi’s thin waist.

“Sweetheart, my breasts and hips didn’t start developing until I was in my second year of college. I was a late bloomer, and you take after me.” Denise rested her head on Naomi’s back as she talked lovingly with her daughter. For Naomi, William’s fib had been a bonus. She got to sit with her mother and talk about girl stuff. Naomi knew that as soon as the little ones were bathed, dried, powdered, greased and clothed in their pajamas, they’d be competing with her for Denise’s attention.

No sooner had Naomi finished the thought than her naked little brother and sister bounded out of the bathroom with William bringing up the rear.

“Come back here, you two!” William was holding a towel and trying to catch Benjamin and Sarah before they left a trail of wet footsteps from the bathroom to the dining area. He wasn’t fast enough.

“Mother! Mother!” Benjamin and Sarah reached Denise and Naomi before William could get past the coffee table and over to the dining area table. Denise opened the arms she had around Naomi and hugged all three of the children at the same time.

“My mushy-wet, little munchkins,” Denise exclaimed and flashed a dazzling smile at Benjamin and Sarah. Naomi was forced to smile, as well. Even though she wanted her mother to herself, she understood how much her little brother and sister missed Denise, too. Besides, Benjamin and Sarah would be going to bed soon and Naomi and William would have a couple of hours before their bedtime, and they could spend some time with Denise then, if she wasn’t too tired and/or didn’t have too much work. William actually demanded much less of Denise’s time these days, so there was a good chance Naomi would have Denise alone again and they could finish their discussion. Naomi wanted to talk to her mother about getting a training bra.

“How was your day, Mother?” William dried the little ones off right in the dining area. He knew it was fruitless to try to get them back in the bathroom, plus it was nice for them to all be there in the same space. His mother was smiling, Naomi was feeling special sitting on Denise’s lap, and the little ones were still and letting him dry them off. They all were quiet waiting for their mother to speak. Naomi didn’t look around at her. She trained her eyes on William, who purposely avoided her stare. She knew he was up to something. She couldn’t forget what she’d seen in that letter on his desk.

“Oh, son. It was a busy and long day. I think I have the most challenging boss on the planet.” Denise was enjoying having her children all around her. She especially liked the fact that she’d gotten home early enough for the little ones’ bath night. That meant that William wouldn’t be hiding in his room, because it was his responsibility to make sure Benjamin and Sarah were bathed every other night, because Naomi was busy with the rest of the household responsibilities.

“Mother, Naomi is too bossy,” Sarah said through the towel that William had placed over here head to dry her hair.

“Why do you say so, my beloved?” Denise furrowed her brow and feigned sincere concern. She knew exactly what Sarah was going to say.

“She makes us do homework and put away our toys and eat yucky vegetables. Right, Benjamin?” Sarah wiggled her head out of the towel and looked at Benjamin. Benjamin, always so shy and quiet looked at Sarah, then Naomi, then his mother and back to Sarah.

“The vegetables were good tonight,” he said in a quiet voice.

“See, Mother. Benjamin thinks she’s too bossy, too,” Sarah asserted as she put her hands on what would be hips one day. Denise stifled a laugh, and put on her most serious face.

“Sarah, I’m sorry you think Naomi is too bossy, but she’s only telling you to do what I told her to tell you to do. Are you doing what Naomi tells you to do?” Denise watched Sarah nod her head up and down.

“Mother, Sarah always does what I ask her to do. She’s a very good girl,” Naomi chimed in, leaving off the fact that  Sarah complained every step of the way. Naomi knew her mother already knew that part.

When Naomi had brought this complaint to Denise before, she had asked Naomi to be extremely patient with Sarah. Denise explained to Naomi that Sarah had a different personality than her other three children. Denise didn’t want Naomi to try to break Sarah’s spirits, but she did want Naomi to find a way to get Sarah to comply. Her children had to work together. They had to help Denise raise them. That was all there was to it. She didn’t like leaving her older children in charge and responsible for the little ones, but someone had to make up the income that their father just wasn’t able to provide.

As her children’s father, Emmanuel gave all he could and all the time. Even as generous as he was with his money and time, he was spread thin with taking care of his other children, as well. Denise couldn’t fault him for his career choice either. He’d taken a lower-paying job with his company that not only allowed him to meet his financial obligations to all his children, but it also afforded him the ability to make his own hours so he could attend his children’s activities and bear some of the carpooling responsibilities.

“It’s bedtime, munchkins.” Denise kissed both Benjamin and Sarah, who pouted and whined, but they obeyed and followed William out of the dining area to the back of the apartment.

“Mother, Sarah is becoming more and more difficult. Benjamin does everything without complaining, but Sarah is really challenging me more and more.” Naomi got up from her mother’s lap and sat in the chair next to her.

“I know, my beloved, I know. I just need you to continue to be patient with her. I know it isn’t easy, especially when even William does what you say, but Sarah’s a…”

“different personality. Yes, Mother, I know.” Naomi finished Denise’s sentence but not in a disrespectful way. They both smiled.

“You’re going to have to deal with all types of people, Naomi. It doesn’t hurt to start practicing how to get along with all those different personalities now. Look at it this way. If you can keep Sarah in line, you should be able to keep anyone else in line. It’s the people who know you well that give you the hardest time when you’re in charge. Remember that part in the Bible where Jesus goes back to preach in his hometown? I mean, He was Jesus, the Son of God, the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords…”

“Yes, Mother,” Naomi said with a giggle, “I get your point.” Naomi and Denise exchanged more warms smiles. They both turned to look at him when William came back in the room.

“Mi-Mi, the little ones want you to read them a story,” William said to his sister without meeting her eyes. Naomi didn’t move.

“I’m talking with Mother. Can you read them a story?” Naomi didn’t want William to talk with Denise. William still wouldn’t look at Naomi. Instead, he looked at Denise.

“Mother, I’d like to run something by you that I want to talk with Dad about. I’d like to have your opinion first, if you don’t mind.” William again purposely avoided Naomi’s stare. Naomi’s heartbeat quickened as she realized how he’d used her to set up this talk with their mother.

“Go on, Naomi. Read to the little ones for me while I talk to ‘the man’ here.” Denise was happy to be included in her son’s life about anything these days. In recent months he’d grown distant and withdrawn. The fact that he was asking her advice on anything made her want to give him her full attention.

Naomi stood up and walked toward William who walked toward her. As they met to change places, Naomi bumped him hard with her shoulder. William didn’t even break stride, nor did he once look at Naomi. When Naomi got to her bedroom door, where she knew Benjamin and Sarah would be waiting, she looked over her shoulder and saw William sitting in the seat that she’d just vacated. Their mother was still smiling.

“Tell me something good, my beloved.” Denise touched her son’s knee and smiled lovingly at him.

As she closed the door to her room, Naomi heard William clearing his throat.

“I’d like to…,” William was saying as Naomi closed the door.

———-

This is Installment #7 of “The Pride.” If you missed the beginning, go to “The Pride: From the Beginning” to start at the first installment.

———-

Copyright© 2009, Faydra D. Fields, All rights reserved.

“The guy said he’d be here first thing in the morning. I can’t wait. I took the little window unit out of my room and put it in Xavier’s room so he doesn’t wither away from the heat. His little body is all broken out with heat rash. When he cries, I want to cry, too.” Xavari was sitting at the kitchen table and her sister was standing behind her styling Xavari’s hair into cornrows.

“Did you remember to put that part of the crib that slides down back up after you changed him? I remember that one day you forgot and Xavier rolled out onto the floor. One minute I’m talking to you. The next minute we hear this thud.” Regina laughed as she recalled the sound of Xavier dropping to the big pillows Emmanuel had placed right next to the baby’s crib for just such an occurrence. Xavari didn’t laugh. She was remembering the chewing out that she had received from Emmanuel for being so careless.

“Regina. Even when Xavier’s 50 years old, that’s not going to be funny to me. My baby could have hurt himself badly.” Xavari was annoyed that Regina always recalled that incident with such amusement.

“Girl, please. Babies are more resilient than we give them credit for. Besides, Manny was well-prepared for it. Nothing happened to your baby, so get over it.”

“Whatever. I just don’t think it’s funny.”

“Whatever. If you weren’t so proud, you would have had a new crib for Xavier, instead of that ol’ raggedy thing you got at the thrift store, but you didn’t want Daddy to buy you anything for this hole in the wall. Um. I don’t know why you didn’t just stay at Daddy’s instead of moving into this roach motel of an apartment building,” Regina teased as she worked on a braid.

“I just needed my own space. I got tired of Daddy trying to tell me how to raise my child. It was like he thought since he was paying the bills, buying the food and putting clothes on our backs, he could just run me,” Xavari spoke loudly to be heard over the fan.

“Well, yeah, duh. He was footing the bill, so you have to deal with his rules. You know how Daddy is.” Regina was using the spiked end of the rat-tail comb to part Xavari’s hair so she could start another braid.

“Yeah, I know how Daddy is. That’s why I had to get out of there. He was driving me up the wall.” Xavari closed her eyes and tried to concentrate away the pain in her scalp.

“I can’t blame you for that. It’s why I couldn’t wait to get married, but now what are you going to do, Xavari?”

“Ow! Could you quit pulling so hard? My scalp is sensitive!” Xavari hunched down in the chair to try to move away from Regina’s hands. Regina kept a firm grip because she didn’t want the braid to get twisted.

“Look, I can’t help it if you’re tender-headed. Stop squirming and sit still or this braid is going to be all zigzag, and you ain’t Allen Iverson.” Regina put two fingers of each hand on either side of Xavari’s head and positioned it so she could finish the braid.

“What do you mean ‘what am I going to do’? What can I do?” Xavari squinted her eyes and hiked her shoulders up to her ears to try to lessen the pain of having her hair slowly pulled from her scalp into another cornrow.

“Quit squirming, Zee, or I’m going to leave your head half-done. Why do you do this every time? You’re the one who wants these tiny little cornrows, and you know what I have to do to make it look right. It wouldn’t hurt so bad if you let me make them a little bigger,” Regina said as she smiled behind Xavari’s back and pulled just a little harder to make Xavari squirm even more.

“Ow! I know you don’t have to pull that hard, girl! Regina, can we take a break? I feel like you’re going to pull my eyes into the back of my head,” Xavari asked with exasperation.

“Let me finish this one, and I’ll let you take a break.” Regina eased off the braid a bit. She finished it and put a faux cowry shell on the end.

“Whu! Cheese and crackers! How much more do you have to go?” Xavari felt around her head to see how much loose hair was left unbraided. She frowned when she realized Regina wasn’t even halfway done and her frown deepened when she looked over at the fan. It was just whirring away, making a lot of noise, but it wasn’t shooting out any cool air.

“Answer my question, little girl. I want to talk about this before your man gets home.” Regina spoke to Xavari over her shoulder as she washed the grease off her hands in the kitchen sink.

“Emmanuel doesn’t live here,” Xavari retorted.

“He has a key and you let him come and go as he pleases, so he lives here, even if it ain’t fulltime,” Regina shot back.

“Whatever. He didn’t say he was coming over, so I don’t expect to see him for a few days.” Xavari realized she was a little bitter about that.

“Girl, please, you don’t know when you’re going to see that man.” When Regina turned around from the sink, Xavari had her eyes closed and she was resting her head on her arms on the table. With excitement in her voice, Regina said, ”Oh, hey, Emmanuel.” Xavari whipped her head up from the table and looked behind her to view the empty door frame. Regina laughed.

“You punk. You play too much.” Xavari tried not to register the disappoint on her face that she felt in her heart. She always got excited when Emmanuel came by. She was pretty sure she wasn’t going to see him tonight, though. He usually called to let her know when he was going to be stopping by.

“Little girl, what are you going to do,” Regina asked again. She was drying her hands on a dish towel.

“What do you think I’m going to do, Gina? It’s not like I have any choices,” Xavari snapped.

“Yes, you have choices. You just don’t want to admit you have choices.” Regina sat across the kitchen table from her sister.

“I’m not having an abortion, so I don’t have any other choice, Gina.” Xavari wouldn’t look at Regina. She put her elbow on the table and rested her cheek on her fist.

“Xavari. You are 19 years old, and you’re about to have another baby with a man you say doesn’t want to marry you and what’s worse is you don’t want to marry him. I can’t believe you didn’t learn from my mistakes. You know how disappointed Daddy was when I got pregnant the first time. I thought the man was going to have a stroke the second and third time I got pregnant. You watched me give up high school, friends, parties, the prom, graduation, the senior class tri…”

“I know, I know, but it’s different for me. I graduated from high school. I’m in college,” Xavari said with an attitude.

“For now. What are you going to do when you’re too sick or too tired to go to class?” Regina gazed steadily at the top of Xavari’s head, because Xavari refused to look at her.

“I won’t be too sick or too tired. I’m going to finish college. I have to finish college. If I don’t, I won’t be able to get a decent job or…”

“Xavari, listen at yourself. You don’t know what’s going to happen during this pregnancy. Remember what you went through when you were carrying Xavier? Your body hasn’t recovered from that pregnancy, and now you’re pregnant again. You’re going to have two kids in diapers at the same time and…”

“JUST LIKE YOU DID!” Xavari yelled at Regina and shot up to her feet. Regina got up, too.

“YES, XAVARI, JUST LIKE I DID, AND YOU THINK YOU’D HAVE LEARN NOT TO BE JUST LIKE ME!” Regina’s fists were balled at her sides and she was breathing heavily. Xavari was in the same stance on the other side of the table.

“I’M NOT GOING TO BE LIKE YOU, BI…!” Xavari stopped herself before the “ch” sound escaped her lips.

“I wish you would,” Regina growled at Xavari. Neither one of them breathed for a few seconds. The only sound in the kitchen was the oscillating fan. Their eyes were locked as though they were playing the staring game they used to play as children to see who would blink first. Xavari conceded. She crumpled into the chair directly behind her and broke down in tears.

“Oh, God, how could I let this happen again? I don’t want another baby right now!” Xavari covered her face with her hands and sobbed like a woman who was mourning the death of a child, not a woman giving life to a child. Regina felt a lump in her throat and tears starting to well up in her eyes. She hurried around the table and put her arms around her sister. She spoke softly and comfortingly to Xavari.

“Hey, little girl. It’s going to be OK. We can deal with this. Xavari, you don’t have to have this baby. Have you told Emmanuel?” Regina rocked Xavari to calm her down. Every few seconds the warm air from the fan blew on them as it oscillated from side to side.

“No, but I think he suspects that I am,” Xavari replied into her sister’s neck.

“Xavari, you don’t have to have this baby. Women have abortions every day. It’s not that big of a deal,” Regina said as she gently pushed Xavari away from her and wiped Xavari’s eyes with the flat of her hand.

“Regina, how can you say it’s no big deal? You’re asking me to murder my child.” Xavari looked into her sister’s eyes for the first time since they’d started the discussion about the pregnancy.

“Xavari, it’s not murder. Don’t think like that. It’s an alternative to having a baby you don’t want.” Regina’s voice was compassionate but firm.

“How can you say that? The Bible says that God knew everyone of us before we were even formed in our mothers’ wombs. I don’t care about all this “when does life begin” crap that the scientists and politicians are spouting. If God knows us before we’re formed in our mothers’ wombs, abortion is murder.” Xavari wiped her nose with the heel of her hand and then reached for a napkin from the napkin holder in the center of the kitchen table.

“That’s not how I see it, Zee.” Regina walked back around the table and sat again in the chair across from Xavari.

“Well, that’s the way I see it. God says He won’t forgive the shedding of innocent blood. I’m not having an abortion, Gina. That’s out. Besides, Emmanuel would lose his mind if I had an abortion. I’m having my baby, and that’s all there is to it.” Xavari crossed her arms over here breasts and looked evenly at her sister.

“Well, you can forget school, because you’re not going to make it through this year.” Regina crossed her arms over her breasts, too, and rolled her eyes at Xavari.

“Yes. I will. Why do you have to be so negative?”

“I’m not being negative. I’m telling you how it’s going to be. You’ll do good for a while and then you’ll have to withdraw, because you forget Xavier has to be dealt with, too.”

“Look. I know it’s not going to be easy, but I can do this. I need you to do me a favor, though.” Regina uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on the table.

“What, little girl.” Regina looked at Xavari with an unsmiling smirk on her face.

“Don’t tell Daddy, and whatever you do pleeeeaaase don’t let Emmanuel find out yet.” Regina opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get any words out, Emmanuel appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Don’t let Emmanuel know about what?” Emmanuel stood there with a blank look on his face and Xavier on his hip.

———-

This is Installment #6 of “The Pride.” If you missed the beginning, go to “The Pride: From the Beginning” to start at the first installment.

———-

Copyright© 2009, Faydra D. Fields, All rights reserved.

What can I say?

I love children and I love women…

…in that order.

I live for my children, and I don’t have enough of them yet. I’m thinking about stopping at 20 or 21…

…children, that is.

I’m 35. I figure I want to get them all “made” before I turn 40 and then spend the next 40 to 50 years watching them, and all my grands and great-grands, and probably my great-great-grands, grow up. I think I have time on my side. All my grandparents are still alive and kicking. So are my parents. Barring a tragic accident, I should be able to make it into my 90s before I leave this bad, old world…knock on wood.

You should see my babies. Every one of them looks just like me. I couldn’t deny any of them if I wanted to, and I never would. The only thing they got from their mothers is skin tone. They’re all shades; from high-yellow to dark-brown and every shade in between. They are so beautiful. I have pictures of every one of them plastered everywhere in my cubicle at work. People who don’t know think some of them are my nieces and nephews. They’re floored when I tell them they’re all mine. I get the usual silly questions:

“Do they all have the same mother?”

“You starting a little league team?”

“Did you start making babies when you were 9?”

“Which one is your favorite?

“How can you afford all these kids?”

“I bet you do more with the boys than the girls, don’t you?”

“Can I borrow a few of them at tax time?”

It doesn’t matter to me what people say or think. I love my children, I take care of my children, and I know and spend time with all my children. I was at every birth, my name is on every birth certificate, and they all have my last name. I go to every play, athletic event, recital and preschool, kindergarten and sixth-grade graduation that I’m physically able to make it to. When it’s necessary, I take them and pick them up from their schools, doctors’ appointments and practices. It’s not a burden or any trouble. You make time for the things you want to make time for, and my children come before anything or anyone else. My parents taught me that. My parents are the reason I’ve always wanted a big family.

See, I was an only child, but my mother and father both had lots of brothers and sisters. Interestingly enough, they’re both from the same itty, bitty town and they’re both the oldest of all their sisters and brothers. I actually have aunts and uncles who are about the same age as me. The entire time I was growing up, one aunt or uncle from either my mother’s side of the family or my father’s side of the family moved in with us, stayed awhile and then moved on. When that aunt or uncle left, it seemed like another one took his/her place. The best times for me were when an aunt or uncle brought their sons or daughters with them. Then I had live-in playmates. Being an only child, I enjoyed having people to play with. My parents were very protective, and they didn’t allow me to go to other people’s houses and no one could come in our house. I played with a few neighborhood kids in the front yard, but they wouldn’t stick around for long. There was only so much you could do in one tiny front yard, and they opted to go ride bikes and play at the nearby park, which I wasn’t allowed to do unless my mother or father were able to go with me.

My best memories of childhood were the four weeks in the summer where I’d get to go to my grandparents’ homes. I’d spend two weeks with my mother’s parents and two weeks with my father’s parents, and there’d be cousins and aunts and uncles everywhere! We’d get up at the butt-crack of dawn to do chores on the farm, and then we’d play until the sun was simply a crescent on the horizon. I wasn’t restricted to a patch of grass in the front yard. We went everywhere; all over the farm, the creek, the woods, the store across the railroad tracks, the movie theatre in town, everywhere! We’d sit around the long table and eat and talk and laugh and just have a good ol’ time being together. We had our fusses and fights, too, but they were nothing compared to the good times we had. I’d go into a state of depression whenever it neared the time to go back home.

I remember one summer right after dinner, and the day before my parents were supposed to come get me, I ran into the woods and climbed a tree. I resolved in my young mind that they weren’t going to take me home, where I had no one to play with. I was young and dumb enough to believe they’d come, look around for a while and then leave without me. Instead, everyone panicked when they all realized I wasn’t sitting in the living room watching television with all the other children. From my perch, I heard voices yelling my name from every direction around me.

At first, the voices were faint and then they grew louder and louder and I remember my chest began to rise and fall quicker and quicker. When two of my uncles were so close to the tree I was hiding in that it sounded like they were shouting in each of my ears, I put my hand over my mouth to keep from yelling out. Their fear and panic, and the strained and panicked voices of everyone else, caused me to begin to get frantic, even though I was well aware of where I was and that I was fine. My two uncles passed by and some more aunts and uncles and all four of my grandparents walked swiftly passed my tree, going here, there and everywhere trying to find me. No one thought to look up, and that’s how I overheard from two of my aunts why my parents were so protective of me. After everyone stopped searching in the area where I actually was, that bit of information is what made me get out of the tree and go back to my father’s parents’ home.

On top of the shock of what I’d overheard, I had so many people yelling at me and smacking me upside my head and shaking my shoulders, I didn’t know how to react. I just sat in the chair…

…in the middle of the room…

…and let it all wash over me.

I’d just learned the worst thing anyone could have told me, and I couldn’t tell any of them what I’d overheard.

———-

This is Installment #5 of “The Pride.” If you missed the beginning, go to “The Pride: From the Beginning” to start at the first installment.

———-

Copyright© 2009, Faydra D. Fields, All rights reserved.

“Yes,” William responded to the soft rap on his door.

“May I come in?” Naomi’s muffled voice traveled to him through the closed door.

“I’m busy, Mi-Mi. Can you come back later?” William scratched through a sentence on his paper and started it over on the next line.

“I really need to talk with you, Big Brother.” Naomi never called William “Big Brother” unless she really needed to talk. She wasn’t a pest like other people’s little sisters. He liked talking with her, and he respected her. She was actually a great little sister, so he tried to accommodate her whenever he could. She did the same for him when he needed to talk.

“OK. Come in.” William covered the paper with one of his school books. He shifted in his chair to face the door as Naomi turned the knob and pushed it open.

“Hey,” Naomi said as she hugged herself and inched into the room. She closed the door with her back and leaned against it. She stood by the door studying her shoes. William found this odd, since she normally came straight over to his bed and sat across from him while he sat at the desk. He decided not to mention the change.

“Hey,” William said focusing in on his sister’s tear-stained face. “Mi-mi, why are you crying?” When she didn’t answer him, he started to get concerned. “When’s Mother coming home?”

“She’ll be home in about three hours,” Naomi responded without looking up. This caused William to frown slightly.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I have to tell you something, Big Brother. I need to know you won’t go to Mother, please.” Naomi didn’t look up but her tears increased in volume.

“Of course I won’t tell Mother. You keep my secrets. I keep your secrets. What’s wrong, little mama?”

“Don’t call me that, William,” Naomi said through gritted teeth.

“Why not,” William asked good-naturedly, “I always call you little mama.” He was smiling, hoping he could get his sister to smile a little, too. His smile quickly disappeared when Naomi melted to the floor and started crying hysterically into her hands.

“Shhhhhhh.” William rushed from his chair and gathered his little sister into his arms. She was so tiny and thin for her age. He picked her up and carried her over to the chair he’d been sitting in and placed her gently on her bottom. She kept crying, even though he tried to comfort her. When he realized he just needed to let her get it out, he kneeled in front of her and placed her forehead on his shoulder and put his arms around her. He rocked her slowly and tried to remember the last time he’d seen Naomi cry.

Naomi didn’t cry. He’d nicknamed her “little mama,” because she was always so well-collected and organized, just like their mother. She would run the house when Denise wasn’t home. Naomi made sure he and the little ones were fed, the dishes were washed, everyone’s clothes were laundered and ironed and put out for the next day of school, and she even read bedtime stories to Benjamin and Sarah when Denise wasn’t home or was too tired to do it. It hurt him to see Naomi so distraught, but he knew he couldn’t make her talk until she was ready, so he just held her and rocked her.

“William?”

“Yes, lit… I mean, yes, Naomi?”

“William, I think I’m pregnant,” Naomi choked the words out into her brother’s shoulder. She felt him instantly stop rocking. He put one hand on each of her shoulders and pushed himself away from her to look into her face. Her eyes were swollen and red and her nose was running.

“What did you say?” William looked Naomi dead-center in the face. He was sure he’d heard her wrong.

“I think I’m pregnant,” Naomi said again, forcing the words from her throat and trying not to break down crying again.

“What? How? Who?” William let go of Naomi’s shoulders and sat back on the heels of his feet. His mind was telling him to close his gaping mouth, but he couldn’t do it.

“I was stupid, William. I let this boy put his penis between my legs and he wasn’t wearing a condom. It was my first time, and he said he di…” Naomi stopped mid-sentence, as William held up his hands, closed his eyes tight and turned his head to the side.

“Who…the hell is this boy, Mi-Mi,” William could feel the blood rising in his face.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” William got to his feet and yelled down at the top of his sister’s head. “YOUR BOYFRIEND? YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE A BOYFRIEND, NAOMI!” He saw her shrink into herself and he heard her crying again. He realized he was yelling at her more out of jealousy than out of anger. How was it that his little sister had lost her virginity before him, and he was a boy and closer to being able to date than she was?!?!?

“I know, but all the girls liked him and he liked me,” she said through sniffles and sobs.

“Mi-Mi, we used to tell each other everything! You know everything about me! Everything! Now you’re keeping secrets from me?!?! Mother explicitly told us both we could not have boyfriends or girlfriends until we are 16 years old. Now you’re telling me that not only do you have a boyfriend, you’re letting him put his penis inside your vagina?!?!”

“It was only one ti… Wait a minute. What?” Naomi stopped crying and turned her swollen eyes up to look at her brother. She was confused.

“What do you mean, “What?”! You heard me. You’re letting some little boy put his penis in your vagina, and you don’t even come talk to me before you do that!” William dropped back to the floor with his legs crossed in front of him Native-American style. His shoulders were hunched down and his chin was on his chest.

“Wait a minute. I didn’t let him put his penis in my vagina.” Naomi wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“Don’t start lying to me now, Naomi. That’s the only way you could be pregnant.”

“What? Wait a minute. That’s not what that song said.”

“What song, Naomi?” William was getting annoyed with her.

“Remember that one we snuck and listened to on the station Mother won’t let us play? The guy said over and over ‘Let me put it between your thighs, so we can make a baby with my nose and your eyes.’ That’s what Kenny did. He put his penis between my thighs and this white stuff came out of his penis and he wasn’t wearing a condom. I got up fast and wiped it off, but I don’t think I got it off fast enough. When I got home, there was still some of it on my thigh dried up and soaking into my skin. Why are you laughing?” Naomi couldn’t see William’s face, but she saw his shoulder’s vibrating like he was sitting in a paint mixer. She frowned and crossed her arms in a huff.

“I’m sorry, little mama. Oops. I mean… I forgot you don’t want me to call you little mama right now,” William was trying to stop laughing, but he couldn’t get himself under control.

“STOP LAUGHING AT ME, WILLIAM! MOTHER IS GOING TO KILL ME AND YOU’RE SITTING HERE LAUGHING AT ME! WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME?!?! STOP IT! I HATE YOU! IT’S NOT FUNNY!” Naomi popped up from the chair and tried to dash past William, but he grabbed her arm and wrestled her to the floor, hugging her playfully and still laughing. Naomi struggled against him, but William continued to hold her and laugh.

“Woooo! Mi-Mi! Woooo. Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute! Woooo! OK, I’m going to stop, I promise. Woooo. For real. Give me a minute,” and William leaned to the side, taking an obviously livid Naomi over with him, in waves of laughter. Naomi struggled to get away from him, more angry than upset at this point.

“Let me go, William! I hate you! Why are you doing this to me? My life is over and you think it’s funny. I bet you won’t be laughing so hard at my funeral! Let me go! I’ll never tell you anything again! Never!” Naomi kept struggling to get away and William kept holding her and laughing.

“What are you all doing,” two little voices said through the closed door. It was Benjamin and Sarah.

“Nothing. Naomi is telling me a funny joke,” William shouted at the closed door. The knob turned and the little ones poked their heads into the room. They saw William laughing like a madman and a scowling Naomi struggling to get out of his embrace. They flung the door open and ran into the room.

“We want to play, too!” Benjamin and Sarah each wrapped themselves around an older sibling and started laughing and pulling. Benjamin twisted William in such a way that William lost his grip on Naomi and she leaped up from the floor and moved away from the mass of arms and legs and giggles.

“Benjamin. Sarah. Leave right now! I’m talking with William.” Naomi stood by the door and held the knob.

“We just wanted to have some fun, too,” Sarah pouted as she realized how angry Naomi was. William figured he’d laughed enough at his sister’s expense, so he helped her get the little ones out of the room.

“OK, you two. Come back later and we’ll play, OK? Right now, Naomi and I need to finish talking. Give me hugs and kisses.” Benjamin and Sarah hugged and kissed their big brother and walked toward the door. As they passed Naomi, Sarah poked her tongue out and rolled her little eyes.

“We like William better, anyway. He’s not always bossing us around,” Sarah said as Naomi closed the door behind them. When Naomi turned back to William, he was standing by his bed with a book in his hand. He was flipping pages.

“Naomi. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed at you, but there’s something you need to read.”

“I don’t want to read anything you have, William. I can’t believe you would…”

“Hush, Naomi, and look at this with me, please. I said I was sorry. I think you’ll laugh, too, when you read this.”

“Um. I doubt it. If it’s not something to tell me how to get un-pregnant, it’s not going to be funny to me.” Naomi left the door behind and walked over to her brother. He offered her the seat at the desk and he placed the book on the flat surface in front of her. Naomi read the header: Human Sexuality and the Developing Teen Body and Mind.

“You’re learning about this in school?”

“Yes, and you will, too, next year. I think it’s why Mother has the ‘no dating before 16′ rule,” William said as he pointed to the part where he wanted her to start reading.

Naomi started reading. Neither of them said a word as Naomi read to the end of that page and flipped to the next page. William stayed next to her, one hand on the desk next to the book and one hand on the back of her chair, leaning over her as she read. When she was done, she closed the book and sat quietly for a few seconds. William backed one or two steps away from her to give her a minute to process what she had just read. For the second time, Naomi popped up from her chair, but she didn’t try to dash past William this time. She jumped up to William’s height and hugged her brother hard around the neck, squealing with delight.

“Thank you, William, thank you,” Naomi said as she exhaled and plopped back onto the chair at the desk. As she did so, her elbow pushed the Human Sexuality book and another book across the desk, exposing the letter that William had been writing before she knocked on the door.

He reached down to move it before she could see what it was about, but he could tell by her expression she’d seen enough to understand why it was hidden.

“Don’t think that means we’re done with the subject of your boyfriend and why you’re playing with fire, young lady,” William said with half-hearted conviction as he looked at the floor, folded the letter and shoved it in his back pocket. He was hoping and praying Naomi wouldn’t press the issue. He wouldn’t be so lucky.

“No secrets, huh? William? Are you trying to leave us?”

———-

This is Installment #4 of “The Pride.” If you missed the beginning, go to “The Pride: From the Beginning” to start at the first installment.

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Copyright© 2009, Faydra D. Fields, All rights reserved.

I can’t believe she’s tripping over something so stupid. Boys fight. It’s not like I’m going to be a criminal because I got into one fight. She’s the one who has me going to this stuck-up, stupid school, anyway. If she’d let me go to the school up the block from our house, I’d be around more people who look like me and know what I’m going through. These white folks don’t care nothing about me. Oh, God. I can hear her now, “Don’t care anything about me.” Uh. I can’t believe I have her voice in my head, sitting here correcting myself when she’s not even around. How square can you get? I want to go live with my father, but how do I tell her that’s what I want to do? There are too many people in this two-bedroom apartment, anyway; her, me, Benjamin, Sarah and Naomi. I could use that argument to get out from under her thumb, but how do I convince Dad to let me stay with him?

Naomi, 14
(Denise’s oldest daughter)

I cannot be pregnant. I cannot be pregnant. I. cannot. be. pregnant. Oh, God. What am I going to do? I can’t believe I trusted that Kenny-fool! “We don’t need a condom, baby. I can’t even have kids. I had an accident when I was little,” he told me. Mother will lose her freaking mind if I’m pregnant. Kenny’s mother just laughed when I told her: “Why you cryin’? I bet you wasn’t cryin’ when y’all was doing the do. Cryin’ ain’t gone help nothin’. It is what it is. If you pregnant, you pregnant. I’ll take care of it while you finish school.” She didn’t even act like it was a big deal. She said all that to me without even turning away from the television, like she honestly thinks it’s that easy. Doesn’t she know my mother is going to kill me if I’m pregnant?!?! Oh, GOD! What was I thinking?

Sonjie, 12
(Angela’s oldest daughter)

Let me not crease this magazine, or Momma will know I found it under her mattress. Um! Look at his thing. I wonder what it would feel like to have that inside me. Momma think I don’t hear her and Daddy in’nere at night. I hear them. They so nasty. She be moaning and calling his name, talking about, “Uh, that’s my spot, baby! That’s my spot! Right there, baby!” Tee-hee! I can’t wait to be with a boy. I like walking down the street in front of them high school boys. I don’t look 12. My friends are still flat in front and back, but I’m not. Plus, I’m tall like my Daddy’s people. They don’t know I’m only in sixth grade. They cain’t do nothing for me, though. If I didn’t learn nothing else from my Momma, I learned this: don’t ever hook up with a dude who ain’t go money to spend on you. Yeah, I cain’t wait to be with a boy, but he gotta have a car and some money before I give up anything.

Quintenerra, 6
(Romina’s middle child)

My Mommy embarrasses us. She doesn’t mean to. She can’t help it. She’s slow. I heard my grandparents call her retarded. I asked my teacher what retarded meant, and she said it means slow to learn. My teacher wanted to know why I was asking her about that word, and I started crying. I think she thought about my Mommy then, who’d come up and volunteered in my class, and she realized why I was asking. The other kids laughed at my Mommy. She wasn’t like their Mommies. My teacher assured me I’m not retarded. She said I should be in the second or third grade, based on my abilities. I asked her if I could go to the second or third grade now. She laughed cheerily and told me she thought I needed to stay with children my own age but that she would give me higher-level work so I wouldn’t get bored with school. I was excited at first and then I thought about it. If my Mommy can’t read or write that good, do I want to be able to read and write better than her? Wouldn’t that make my Mommy feel bad? I wonder if it would be OK to pretend I’m retarded. I don’t know.

———-

This is Installment #3 of “The Pride.” If you missed the beginning, go to “The Pride: From the Beginning” to start at the first installment.

———-

Copyright© 2009, Faydra D. Fields, All rights reserved.