A Woman’s Work: Street Chronicles (3 page)

BOOK: A Woman’s Work: Street Chronicles
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“Oh, oh, shit … I’m cumming, baby. I’m cumming.” Shawn pushed himself to the limit to get every drop of this good-good wet-wet before pulling out and creaming on my lower back and ass. Let’s just say that for about ten minutes we both laid down on the couch speechless ’cause I needed to regain my strength before going home.

After getting ourselves together, I quickly washed up to remove any sexual scent that might still be lingering on me. As usual, Shawn hit me with a couple of hundreds, handed me a few tracks for the group, and sent me on my merry way. True, we didn’t have love, but we had a lot of lust for each other, which made our relationship more than perfect. I didn’t need his love; all I needed was those blazing-ass tracks anyhow.

In my head I practiced the lies I was going to tell my parents when I got home. I wasn’t late because I still had a whole half hour before curfew; however, I did miss Bible study, which was like missing your own wedding in my parents’ eyes.
Let’s see, tonight I think I’ll tell them I failed a math test and went over to Kimberly Matthews’s
house to study
. My parents were very fond of her ’cause she was smart as hell and her mother sat on the board at church. Also, Kimberly was my friend, so I knew she’d definitely back up any story I gave.

Both of my parents were sitting in the living room when I walked through the door, which wasn’t uncommon. My father had a stern look on his face, and my mother looked upset.
Here we go again. They’re about to grill me about going to church
.

“Hello,” I nonchalantly said as I headed toward the kitchen to get a cold drink. My father barely looked my way, as if I hadn’t just said hello to him. The expression on his face never changed, and I knew he was pissed off about something. My mother, however, walked over, grabbed me by the arm, and forcefully demanded that I take a seat.

“Wait just a minute, young lady. We have something to talk to you about, and depending on your decisions tonight, you may not need to go into the kitchen because you’ll need to go to your room and pack your things.”

Oh brother, what the hell is going on?
I’ve come into this house late many times before, and the one night I’m on time, she’s talking about putting me out. That sounded totally backward to me. Not one for wasting time, I asked them straight up what was going on, because I wasn’t going to sit and play charades, especially while I was still on the high that Shawn just gave me. “What do y’all have to talk to me about? What did I do now?” I asked in a bored tone.

My father, who I guess was the good cop, continued to sit and ignore me while “Mother Commando” played the bad cop. “So you missed Bible study?”

“I told you before that I can’t control what time the games are over,” I interrupted. “Do you want me to quit the team? Because I’m tired of having the same conversation every time we have a game or late practice.” My mother looked at my father and smirked
as he turned toward me and shook his head. That was the only time he displayed any emotion, and I didn’t like it because it seemed like they had something over me. “What do you want me to do?” I asked.

My father jumped from his seat and yelled, “What we want you to do is stop lying in this house! Stop lying to your mother! Stop lying to me! Stop lying to yourself! And stop trying to lie to God when he knows the truth! Stop it, stop it,
stop it
!” I’ve heard my father scream and holler over the years, particularly on Sundays, when he’s at the peak of his sermon, but this was something new. He was furious with me and why, I didn’t know. I’d been so careful about covering my tracks that I couldn’t imagine my parents knowing anything about the group or Shawn.

“I’m not lying,” I replied, feeling confused about what was really going on. “I went over to Kimberly’s house after volleyball practice to study for a math test. I didn’t call because—”

“Oh, just shut your mouth, Melissa. We know you’re not on the volleyball team. As a matter of fact, volleyball season ended months ago, and from what Mrs. Clifford, the volleyball coach, said you were never on the team to begin with. So I met with your teachers, who told me your grades have dropped drastically since you joined that R&B group. They said you’ve missed days of school, and when you do show up, you’re barely awake.”
Oh, shit, I’m dead
. I knew I was backed against the wall, but I kept my composure.

“Your math teacher said the only things you’re focused on are music and boys. He said you sit in his class writing songs, and you’ve failed every test he gave this year. When I asked him why he didn’t contact us a long time ago, he showed me the progress report, which to my surprise had my signature on it, which is confusing, since I never saw that paper before.” My father was so upset his hands were trembling. I was speechless, and it didn’t make any sense to lie anymore.

As my parents both took turns grilling me, it became clear that someone from church had dropped a dime on me. Turns out that one of my stupid friends was talking on the phone about me and their mother overheard. She in turn called my parents, who then went to the school to verify what they’d heard. It was so unfair. I didn’t mind getting caught because I knew that was one of the consequences of lying; you win some, and you lose some. What I did find disturbing was that I was going down because of someone else’s big mouth. I’m on the chopping board because some bitch decided to be all up in my business and let her meddling mother snitch on my ass.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay, but you guys put too much pressure on me, and I have to live my life. I’m sixteen years old but you treat me like I’m six. It’s no secret how much I love music; not the type of music that you force me to sing, but the music I actually love. Daddy, you wanted to be a preacher, and you followed your heart and became a preacher. Well, I did the same except I chose R&B over gospel. I’m not saying I’ll never sing gospel music because it’s uplifting and I enjoy singing lots of it; but I’ll be the next big R&B star. Why can’t I just have your support?”

“Look, young lady!” Mother Commando yelled. “I’ve warned you on numerous occasions about the dangers of that music and forbade you to join that group. It’s apparent to me that you respect neither me nor your father, and I will not tolerate that. After coming back from your school, your father and I went to your room to see what else you may have been hiding. Let’s just say we found some things that brought tears to our eyes. I saw your love letters and pictures, and even found and listened to the CDs you had stashed under your mattress. Melissa, you are sexually active. You’ve given away a precious gift that God gave you to save for your husband.” My mother began to cry, and I could see the pain in her eyes. At that moment, I realized how serious the situation was for me. Then my father took over.

“I’m going to cut to the chase because I’m embarrassed beyond imagination, and your mother can’t take any more of this. Do you know how it feels to have someone tell you your daughter is not worthy to stand in your own pulpit?” I didn’t answer because I was too busy thinking of ways to get out of this situation. “Do
you
?” my father yelled louder than the first time.

“No, sir, I don’t,” I replied under my breath. I was scared. I truly didn’t expect that this day would come so soon. I was hoping to at least hold on to these secrets until I turned eighteen.

“Well, it’s not a good feeling when you’re the pastor of the church and hear that kind of news from a member. It’s even worse when you have to stand up and hear every teacher in the school say nothing but bad things about your child. I don’t know where we went wrong, Melissa, but I can tell you that I’m going to make it right tonight!” he yelled as he banged his fist on our coffee table. “You have two choices at this point. You can ask God for forgiveness, quit that group, and turn your life around before it’s too late, or you can go upstairs, pack your things, and go. Those are the two options that I’m giving you, and you must choose one
tonight
!”

Quit the group? Were they fucking insane? Being a part of Pretty in Pink meant the world to me, and I wasn’t going to give that shit up anytime soon. I would promise to quit fucking Shawn before I promised to quit the group. I couldn’t believe that those were the only two choices for me. On top of it all, I couldn’t believe that my parents were so wrapped up in upholding their image that they were actually considering putting me out on the street. They were so hypocritical. It’s got to be a sin to put your underage child out of the only home she’s known, just for being true to herself.

We argued back and forth, and at the end of the day, I had to make a decision, so I did. “Mom and dad, I love you both to death and I know that I’ve hurt you. Please believe me when I
say that wasn’t my intention, but I have to follow my heart, and my heart is leading me to be in that group. I cannot and will not quit Pretty in Pink because we’re a team and we’re very close to getting a recording deal. So if you want me to leave, then I’ll go. I don’t want to, but if I have to choose my warm bed over singing for the group, then I’ll say goodbye to that bed without thinking twice.”

“Okay, Miss Melissa James,” my father sarcastically said. “Get your things and leave my home tonight.” I looked over at my mother to see if this was what she really wanted and she turned away from me as if I were already dead to her. Then she said, “I will pray for you, my child, and ask God to show you the light. One day you will look back and understand where I’m coming from. I declare that one day God will truly touch your heart, and on that day, if my eyes are still open, then these doors will be too. However, if you can’t abide by our rules—no, I take that back—if you can’t abide by God’s rules, then you have to go. I will not allow the devil to destroy my home, and that’s what’s going to happen if I let you stay here and continue living the sinful life that you’re living.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but it became very clear to me that this was real as I packed my clothes and left the only home I’d ever known. My mother had threatened me before, but I never in a million years actually thought they’d abandon me. Since they were so-called Christians, I just never thought they had it in them to really put me out on the street, all because I “chose music over God,” as my father so bluntly put it.

I called Shawn and told him what happened, and he had the nerve to ask me, “So where are you going to stay?” Apparently he had no intention of helping me, so I went down the list, calling other dudes who I was dealing with, but they all said the same stupid shit, “So where are you going to stay?” I couldn’t believe that I was in this predicament. It still hadn’t registered that I no longer had a roof over my head. Besides that, all this pussy I gave up to
these niggas and none of them was making a move to at least come and get me from the side of the road; oh, hell no! I couldn’t believe this shit.

After calling about a million no-good niggas, I decided to call some bitches for help. The first person I called was Jasmine. As soon as she picked up, I began crying and telling her what went down at home word for word. She told me to calm down, then handed her mom the phone. When she came on the line, I repeated my story, except this time around, I made sure to pile it on for sympathy. “Mrs. Tarsha, I have to leave the group because I don’t have anywhere to live. My parents somehow found out what’s been going on and they basically told me to quit the group or move out. I couldn’t do that to Jasmine and Tiffany after all we’ve been through. I begged and pleaded with them but they wouldn’t listen and kicked me out.” I let out a big cry loud enough to be heard in Japan. “I feel like I’m going to die. I want to kill myself.”

“Just calm down and tell us where you are, Melissa. I’m on my way for you right now.” Bingo! That’s what I’d been waiting to hear all night long. Those were the fucking words that Shawn should have said over an hour ago.

“I’m on Division Street, across from the McDonald’s.”

“All right, I’m on my way. Don’t panic. We’ll work this out together. You can’t quit the group now after we’ve worked so hard and come this far.”

I stood on the corner for twenty minutes, but when you’re distraught and feeling beside yourself, every second feels like an eternity. When Mrs. Tarsha’s white-on-white BMW pulled to the curb, I felt a load of worries drop off my shoulders. She beeped the horn to grab my attention and opened her trunk for me to put my things in. Jasmine got out of the car to help.

“Damn, girl, I can’t believe your peoples really put you out just for singing. You’ve done some sneaky shit in your life, but to be
punished like this just for joining a singing group is plain ridiculous.” I loaded my bags in the trunk, closed it, and took a seat in the back. I purposely didn’t respond to Jasmine’s comment because I wasn’t in the mood, and she was making me feel worse. However, the very second Jasmine sat back down in the car she continued to speak her mind. “You joined a group, not a cult. What’s the problem?”

Being the smart chick that I was, I decided to kill two birds with one stone. I could smash my mother for putting me out while grabbing Mrs. Tarsha’s attention so that she could help fix the situation. “Everything that’s not their way is the wrong way. My mother once told me that your mom is not a good mother and that you’re going to get pregnant at a young age just like she did. She said your brothers are going to be in jail before they’re twenty-one just like their fathers. They’re so phony because they always have something negative to say about people yet smile in their face at church on Sunday mornings.” I knew what I was doing by saying that. I wanted Mrs. Tarsha to get mad and go against my mother.

“Wait a minute!” Mrs. Tarsha yelled as she slammed on her brakes and stopped the car in the middle of the street. “Your mother said that I’m not a good mother? I’m not a good mother, huh? Then why is it that my child is in my possession and she threw hers out on the street? That fake-ass righteous bitch better keep my name out of her fucking mouth before I go to church and whip her ass in front of the entire congregation.” Mrs. Tarsha was furious. She began calling her million and one friends and telling them what my mother had said about her and her kids. Inside, I was laughing my heart out at some of the things she was saying.

BOOK: A Woman’s Work: Street Chronicles
3.69Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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