Authors: Blake Karrington
At this inpatient program, Brenda endured a rigorous daily schedule of one-on-one drug counseling, group meetings, and psychological evaluations. Every day she received large doses of in-depth drug and alcohol education. Brenda came into contact with addicts, fiends and junkies from all walks of life and from every racial denomination. It was here she realized just how widespread drug usage was. She also realized that using drugs wasn’t an addiction, but a disease.
Brenda realized that breaking her drug addiction would be difficult, but not impossible. She had to slow down and take
life one day at a time. The answers to life’s mysteries were not inside a crack cocaine rock.
These were the twelve longest weeks of her life. Brenda was forced to take a long, hard look at herself. She was forced to confront the consequences of her drug use, her life and what she had become. She had denied her drug use to a lot of people in the past, but now she couldn’t lie to herself.
By confronting one of the toughest challenges of her life, Brenda found out a lot about herself. She learned just how strong and resilient she was. As a direct result she began to feel terrible about the way she had neglected her kids. She blamed herself for her kid’s bad choices in life. Brenda felt that she was at fault for her son’s lengthy incarceration and Shantell’s new occupation as stripper. Though she never mentioned it to her daughter, Brenda knew. She had heard about Shantell on the street. The streets were always watching and people were always running their mouths.
Brenda went on a guilt trip until counselors and members of her group pulled her out of it. They reassured her that many people had done far worse things than neglect while in their state of addiction. This allowed Brenda to put things in perspective.
To Brenda, being arrested was god-sent. Jail had succeeded in nursing her body back to health. She quickly regained her weight and started looking like the Brenda of old. Now it was up to the drug facility to mend her mind, to make her whole again.
As she embarked on her soul-searching mission, Brenda realized that she had the power to change her life. The drug rehab helped her see things more clearly and it helped her get her priorities in order. She only hoped it wasn’t too late to reconcile with her children.
Brenda had already lost one child to the streets; she would be damned if she would lose another. From rehab she began to write her daughter many apology letters, in hopes of some sort of closure to the matter. She hoped that Shantell
would forgive her and most of all, that her invitation was still open. Because quite frankly, whenever this program was finished, she had nowhere to go. Her best bet was a city shelter. Brenda knew if she went back to the hood, then surely she would relapse. With the drug problem the way it was in the Black community, drugs were everywhere; the temptation would just be too great to overcome.
In the wee hours of the morning, the Greyhound exited the highway ramp and rambled through uptown Charlotte towards it destination, the bus station. Most of the passengers were fast asleep, but not Brenda. She was wide-eyed, taking in the scenery. Though she had only been gone less than a year, it felt like an eon to her. Brenda wasn’t a hardened criminal who was used to being locked down. Having her freedom snatched from her was a traumatic experience for Brenda,. One she didn’t want to relive anytime soon.
The bus driver flicked on the bus’ interior lights; this signaled the end of the ride for her. Brenda was back home. Finally, she was free.
When Brenda stepped off the bus, she took a deep breath and smiled. She never realized how good polluted air was. While she waited for her luggage, she gazed up at the stars in the sky. Brenda shook her head at the wonder of the universe. Never before in her life had the little things meant so much.
“Ma,” a voice called out. “Over here.”
Recognizing the voice, Brenda spun around and looked for her daughter. There, in the doorway, she saw Shantell and Jordan madly waving. All things considered, this greeting was beautiful, like a ticker tape parade. Suddenly Brenda got emotional and a tear trickled down her cheek.
While the bus was en route to Charlotte, Brenda wondered what a moment like this might do to her. Now she knew. She walked over and embraced her family.
“God is good,” she thought.
“Ma, you look real good.” Shantell insisted. “I’m so glad you’re home! We got a lot of catchin’ up to do.”
“We sure do,” Brenda agreed. “You have to fill me in on everything that’s goin’ on with you and my grandbaby here.”
Brenda reached down and picked up her granddaughter. Words couldn’t explain how happy she was when Jordan not only came to her but stayed in her arms. This was a moment Shantell had been waiting for, for years. She hoped it was a sign of things to come.
After gathering Brenda’s suitcase, the trio piled inside Shantell’s brand new black Honda Accord and headed home.
Shantell and Brenda made small talk as she drove. Meanwhile, in the back seat, Jordan fell fast asleep inside her car seat.
“Where you get this bad car from?” her mother questioned. “Must have cost you a pretty penny, huh?”
Shantell wasn’t used to answering to anybody, least of all her mother. Brenda’s line of questioning had caught her off guard. She knew her mother wasn’t stupid; you couldn’t just tell her anything and expect her to believe it. Shantell decided to tell her the truth. She only hoped that her mother would extend her the same courtesy.
“My friend bought it for me. I don’t know how much it costs. I’m really not into cars.”
“Your friend?” Brenda commented. “What kinda friend buys you expensive things like this? Is he your boyfriend? What does he do for a living?”
Goddamn you nosey! Shantell thought. Here we go.
They hadn’t been reunited ten minutes, and already Brenda was back to her old self. She was back to being a concerned parent and Shantell didn’t like it one bit. She wasn’t a little kid any more. She was grown, with a daughter of her own. Who was her mother to be questioning her, anyway?
Instead of verbally communicating her thoughts, Shantell took a more diplomatic approach. She bit her tongue.
“He’s just a friend. Nuttin’ more and nuttin’ less.” Brenda could sense that her daughter didn’t want to speak about the car anymore, so she dropped the subject. She knew that one day she would eventually meet this mystery man, then she would get a chance to pose all her questions directly to him.
Soon the ride was over. Shantell and her mother exited the car; they gathered up the baby and her things and entered the apartment. After tucking her daughter into bed, Shantell showed her mother the apartment.
The first thing that crossed Brenda’s mind was, God damn! How in the hell can my daughter afford such a nice place?
Though Brenda was a God-fearing woman, her daughter’s apartment was so nicely furnished and decorated that it provoked her to use profanity.
She peeked into the living room and saw the butter-soft, walnut brown leather couch, with matching love seat and recliner, and the big screen television. It seemed like every modern electric appliance was on display at Shantell’s home.
Next Brenda saw her massive cherry oak, king-sized bed and her expensive, ultra-soft pillow top mattress. On Shantell’s wall was a 42-inch plasma television and numerous hand-painted portraits of the dead rappers Tupac Shakur and Biggie Smalls.
When the two women reached the spare room, there was no let down in luxury. Shantell had basically furnished the room the same way, with one exception: her mother had a 20inch flat screen on her night table instead of a plasma television hanging on her wall.
“You hungry Ma?” Shantell asked.
“No, I’m alright. I’m too happy to be hungry,” Brenda remarked.
“Okay, then. I’m goin’ to go lay down. Yo’ granddaughter is a handful. I need my rest.”
“Don’t go yet, Shantell. Sit on the bed and let’s talk for awhile,” Brenda suggested.
Though Shantell didn’t initiate the conversation, she welcomed it wholeheartedly. She was dying to hear just what her mother had to say. She came back and sat on the bed.
Brenda began, “Shantell, I ain’t gotta tell you I ain’t been the best mother in the world. You already know that. I feel so sorry about how things went between you and me. The drugs got a hold of me and wouldn’t let go. I just wanted you to know that that lady wasn’t your mother. I don’t know who that imposter was, but it wasn’t me. I apologize to you. I hope you can accept my apology.”
Before the words were completely out of her mouth, Brenda began to cry. This heart-to-heart talk had opened up a floodgate of tears. Brenda’s body was racked by loud sobs and sniffling.
It was then that Shantell reached out to her mother and pulled her close to hug her. Silently she reassured Brenda that everything was alright.
“Don’t worry about it, Ma. That was then, this is now. We all make mistakes. Nobody walkin’ this earth is perfect. I forgive you, Ma,”
By consoling her guilt-ridden mother, Shantell went a long way in reestablishing their bond. Shantell couldn’t help but shed a tear or two in the process. Only these tears were different than the ones from years gone by. They were tears of joy, not tears of pain and frustration.
As the days and weeks went by, these two had more and more frequent candid conversations. Brenda learned a lot about her daughter and vice versa. It was during one of these talks that Brenda would learn something she didn’t care to ever know.
“Shantell, how about me, you and Jordan take a trip to the jail to go see you brother, Reggie?” Brenda suggested. “I haven’t seen my son in years, and I feel real bad about it. I don’t know where I went wrong with that boy.”
“I don’t know why you feel so bad about it,” Shantell snapped. “You ain’t put him there. He put his own self there. Yo’ son was not a very good person.”
Brenda was dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe her daughter could be so cold-hearted to her own brother. She thought she raised her better than that.
“Shantell, don’t talk like that,” Brenda warned. “That’s your brother, you know. Have a heart.”
“Reggie ain’t no brother of mine. He ain’t nobody to me,” Shantell stated flatly. “I ain’t got no brother.”
Desperately, Brenda looked into Shantell eyes for signs of a prank. She hoped this was some kind of practical joke, but it wasn’t. Her daughter’s eyes didn’t lie; they were alive with hatred.
Shantell wasn’t pulling any punches when it came to Reggie. Now it was time to let the world know what happened in that house that day. Why should she keep it to herself? Just for the stake of harmony? Shantell thought an act as dastardly as that deserved to be exposed.
“Shantell, what’s wrong with you, huh?” her mother said.
“You wanna know what’s wrong with me? Huh? You really wanna know what’s wrong with me? Yo’ son, Reggie, raped me!”
“What?!” Brenda replied in disbelief.
“You heard me.” Shantell barked.
Brenda was devastated by the news. This couldn’t be true, she thought. All at once, her mind began to overflow with questions of how, why and when? These were questions she had no logical answers to. Only Shantell could provide the specifics, and that she did.
Stone–faced, Shantell bravely recounted the rape, the time and date in which the incident took place. She filled in all the blanks. Her vivid recollection left little to the imagination. While describing what her brother did to her, sometimes she laughed to keep from crying.
Brenda was stunned by the story she just heard. This was a bitter pill for her to swallow. She never knew a child of hers was capable of such savagery. Although Brenda more than
sympathized with her daughter she knew that the information Shantell supplied her with was like a death sentence, as far as the family was concerned. Any illusions Brenda had about them being one big happy family, died that day. Things would never be the same.
Now that she had finally told her mother, Shantell felt like a burden was lifted off her shoulders. She closed the book on an ugly chapter in her life. She didn’t care how her mother dealt with the situation; that was on her. If she still wanted a relationship with her brother it was up to her. As far as Shantell was concerned, Reggie didn’t even exist any more.
It took days for the initial shock to wear off. Brenda was smart enough to realize there was nothing she could ever say in Reggie’s defense. As much as she would have loved to defend any one of her children against any allegation, Reggie had done the unthinkable, and it left her speechless. Needless to say, this topic would never be revisited. It was now a private matter, a deep dark family secret.
Bbbbbbllllliiinng! Bbbbbbllllliiinng! Bbbbbbllllliiinng!
The house phone rang, breaking the early morning silence.
Shantell heard it but chose to ignore it. She knew it wasn’t anybody but Mike, which meant that he wanted something, sex or drugs. Lately, he had become so predictable. Unfortunately for him, Shantell didn’t feel like being bothered right now. When she was sleepy, she had a “fuck the world” attitude. Whoever was on the phone, she would deal with them later.
“Shantell! Shantell! The phone,” Her mother hollered. “Somebody named Mike wanna speak to you.”
As much as Shantell tried to ignore her mother, she couldn’t. Momentarily her mother’s voice took her back to her
childhood, when Brenda used to wake her up early for school.
Now Shantell was officially up.
“Yeah. I got it.”
Shantell reached over to the night table and fumbled for the phone.
“Hello?” she groggily spoke into the receiver.
“Aye, yo, you sleep?” Mike inquired.
Shantell fired back, “Yeah, why?”
“Yo, I need you to get up and get me two of those things. “I’ll be right there inna minute. I’m comin’ up West Harris right now.” With that said, Mike hung up.
Shantell got up and did as she was told. She went into her closet and retrieved two ounces of crack cocaine from one of her old winter coats. She was glad Mike hadn’t asked her to drop it off for him. Lately, he had not been only using her apartment as a drug stash house, but Mike had turned her into a drug courier. At times she would distribute crack to Mike’s long list of customers, whenever he asked her to. She was at his beck and call