My new residence was far from the hood. It was in the county away from drama and gunshots. It was in Velda City, basically outside of St. Louis City. It was safe and the cops waved at you. Most people look at my situation and say, damn you made it. I suppose I should be grateful.
Then why was it that the only place I felt safe and at home was my hood? We had all moved away, me and my brothers, and we were thriving. However, we always became more relaxed the moment we left the county and hit the city. The change was gradual. From people watering their neat little lawns and waving to neighbors, to bored-up buildings and the odd nice house right next to a vaco. In the hood, the neighbors were groups hanging out and throwing up the peace sign when you passed. In the city, everything was moving, and everybody in my hood knew me.
Maybe it was the familiar faces, or maybe it was the fact that my mama was still there and she refused to leave. I threw up the deuces to everyone and slowed down here and there to chat with my people. Because these were my people. As I rolled through in my nineteen eighty-six Grand Prix, people got out of my way. They showed the respect that was due. My crew, my family, had put the fear of God in anyone who thought differently. We had the hood sewn up from Grand Ave to Wisconsin St., and we ran it with an iron fist. But we also gave back, we helped our people. If they needed something, they knew they could come to us. We were at a point in our lives where most days were a given. Repetitious and easy.
I pulled up to the corner of Keokuk and Missouri and looked up at my lady's house. She hadn't wanted to move, so we had all chipped in and bought the two-family flat. I sent her on vacation just so we could get in there and renovate the whole place. We opened it up. Added a few walls and tore some down. A little paint there and some carpet here, and it was home. When she and Mickey got home, they were so happy. Get my mama a house, check.
I walked through the door and was instantly wrapped in the smell of home—warm, comforting, and full of memories. The crispy scent of Mickey's fried potatoes still lingered in the air. I climbed the couple of creaky steps that led to the kitchen, where I found Mama and Mickey finishing up breakfast. Their plates were empty, but they sat back, coffee mugs in hand and cigarettes lit, laughing at something between them.
Their laughter tugged a small smile from me. I still wasn't sure how I felt about Mickey on most days, but I knew one thing for certain—my mama was happy. That made him alright in my book. They'd tied the knot a year after he got out of prison, and I had to admit, he'd been good to her.
I kissed them both on their foreheads, wrapping my arms around them for a moment before heading to the stove to fix myself a plate.
"Well sure, just help yourself," Mama said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.
"Don't mind if I do," I replied, grabbing a mug and pouring myself some coffee.
"To what do we owe the pleasure, baby girl?" Mickey asked, his voice smooth like always.
I sat down and drowned my potatoes in ketchup, trying to act normal. "Can't a girl visit her folks?"
"Anytime you want," Mama said. But then she tilted her head and looked at me. She put her cigarette down in the ashtray and reached across the table, gently cupping my chin in her hand like she used to when I was little. Her eyes searched mine like they were flipping through pages of a book.
"You're looking good today," she said softly, but I could hear the question behind her words.
"Thanks, Mama," I mumbled through a mouthful of food, wishing I could look away. But it was no use. She saw right through me.
"Doesn't she look good, Mickey?" she asked, still studying me, though her hand dropped away.
"Always," he said.
Mickey turned the conversation toward the streets. "Did you hear what happened to D?"
"Yeah, I did," I answered, spreading butter on a biscuit that suddenly felt heavy in my hand. "What's the word on that?"
"It's being handled."
"By who?"
"Can we not?" Mama cut in firmly. "Big D is a grown-ass man, Anna, and he can take care of his business. You stay out of this one, you hear me?"
I nodded because she was right. She always was. But staying out of it wasn't an option. Big D meant the world to me. He was like the father I never had, and in such a short time, we had become as close as family. Then Mama reached across again, this time taking my hand.
"Your soul feels heavy, baby. And I ain't just talking about the mess in the streets." Her voice softened, the way it did when I scraped my knees as a girl and tried not to cry. "You wanna talk about it?"
My throat tightened, and I tried to keep it together, but I felt my eyes burn. As angry as I had been at Christian, I had never cried. I had raged and destroyed, but I had yet to cry.
Mama scooted closer and squeezed my hand. "I already know."
I blinked, the tears finally falling, and she pulled me into her arms. I let myself cry there for a minute, in the safety of her hold.
"I just... I want to understand why," I whispered. "I thought he was it."
Mama rocked me gently. "Sometimes we fall for the idea of someone more than the reality. And when they leave—or worse, when they show us who they are—it hurts like hell."
She pulled back just enough to look at me. "But that kind of pain? It don't mean you were wrong to love. It means your heart still works. And one day, baby, someone's gonna show up who's worthy of all that love you got to give."
I wiped my face and gave a shaky laugh. "You always know what to say."
She smiled and kissed my forehead. "I've been where you are, and I came out stronger. You will, too. You're already stronger than most."
Mickey slid a napkin over without a word. I took it and nodded again.
Mama lit another cigarette and leaned back. "Now eat them damn potatoes, I can tell you ain't been eating right."
Laughter bubbled up in my throat, and I cleaned my face. I felt a little lighter. Maybe not okay yet—but I would be starting today.
*****
An hour later, I was back in the car on my way downtown to R and W's when I came to an abrupt stop. I pulled over and hopped out of the car before slamming the door. The slam got the attention of the four individuals standing before me. I looked into three surprised faces and one slightly annoyed one. They couldn't have been any older than fourteen. Maybe fifteen. Three girls stood aggressively surrounding the one with her back against the wall.
I didn't know the surprised faces, but the annoyed ones. Well, she and I had gotten quite acquainted about a year ago, when she tried to steal a bracelet right off my wrist. Chloe Sullivan was fourteen. After catching her, I learned everything I could about her. Under normal circumstances, someone stealing from me would have been a mistake, but she had been different. Her eyes were so intelligent for her age. As if she has seen way too much in her few years.
I guess in a way, I saw myself in her, and I took pity. Since then, I have taken her under my wing. I tried very hard to help her. It was hard because the girl had been raising herself since she was nine. She was the daughter of an ex-drug lord and a meth head. Her mom, if you could even call her that, didn't give a shit about her. I had seen firsthand their interactions, and I often thought that Chloe would be better off without her dead weight. Chloe was a survivor, and over the last year, I had come to care for this little juvi delinquent.
"What the fuck are ya'll doing?" I asked slowly. I could tell, even though I didn't know the girls, they knew who I was. They all started talking at once, and I held up a hand to quiet them. "Chloe?"
She didn't answer; instead, she looked at the ground. I pressed my lips together and looked at the other girls. I pointed to the smaller one, and she immediately spoke up. "She's been stealing our stuff." The girl complained. "She steals everything. She's a thief!"
"So what? Y'all decided to jump her?" I asked. They didn't look ashamed. The older girl even nodded. I shook my head and eyed them down until they started to squirm. Chloe could hold her own in a fight, and they knew it. It piss me off, and I needed to let these little girls know Chloe was like a sister to me and there would be no jumping her.
"Around here," I began, "we don't do jumping. Especially not to her. Chloe, get over here."
She hesitated for half a second before she came to stand by my side. "This is my little sister, and no one jumps her. Now, if y'all want to fight one-on-one. I can get with that, or... I can pay y'all for whatever she stole. Your choice." Chloe looked at me like I was crazy, so I laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze until I knew she was uncomfortable.
"She took my Beats by Dre headphones." One girl whined. "They were expensive."
I reached into my bra and pulled out a wad of cash. I gave each girl three hundred dollars. "That about cover it?"
They nodded and walked away. I turned to Chloe and gave her the look that had made most men get out of my way. She just rolled her eyes.
"I had them right where I needed them," Chloe said, hands on hips.
I shook my head and lifted an eyebrow. "They were about to whip your ass and take they shit back. Why the hell are you stealing, anyway? I told you if you need something to call me. Where is that phone I got you?"
"You didn't answer," Chloe said, hunching her shoulders as if it was no big deal. "I had to eat."
"You sold the phone?" I asked, barely believing this heifer, and yet I respected her hustle. I was always in the gray with Chloe.
"I did that before I went back to stealing. I haven't talked to you in weeks and the last time I saw you, you looked pissed, so I fell back."
That made some of my anger disappear. I knew the day she was talking about. I had seen her too, but I was just too pissed to say anything. Chloe was a go-getter, and the only thing on her mind was eating. I know what it was like to be hungry. It's not a good feeling. In my grief, I had seriously fallen off my square.
I sighed and asked, "You still need food?"
She nodded, and I ushered her to the car. I watched her climb in and took a moment to look her over. She had gotten taller in the last few months. Her single puff ponytail was a little larger. She looked clean and clearly, she was skipping school since it was only eleven thirty. She was a beautiful girl with hard, traumatized, deep brown eyes. The world had not been kind to Chloe. Most girls in her situation felt like they only had one way to make ends meet. They sold their bodies and tricked niggas. Chloe liked getting money alone; it was one of the reasons I worried about her so much.
It had taken so much time for her to trust me, and just as much time for me to understand why I cared. I knew now, and it was as simple as the fact that I knew she needed someone to care. As busy as my life was, I knew I might be her last hope.