Keeping Secrets (5 page)

Secret was so happy when she walked in the door and there was no sign of her mother. She had too much on her mind right now and the last thing she needed was Yolanda nagging and complaining. The last Secret remembered, Yolanda was off work today at her job as a store manager at a local convenience store. She'd either gotten called in or had driven to Detroit to the casino like she was good for doing.

“I hope she hits it big,” Secret said to herself as she walked in the kitchen to see what was good to eat. “'Cause I'm gonna need some of that money.”

“What did you say? And why you making all that goddamn noise waking me up and shit? I finally get a day off and your ass don't want a bitch to get no rest.”

Secret was stunned when she turned around to see her mother's head lifted on the couch. Her mind had been so far gone that she hadn't even seen her lying there on the couch when she walked in the door. As a matter of fact, she couldn't recall seeing her car outside either.

“Oh, I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't even see you lying down there,” Secret apologized. “I didn't see your car parked outside either.”

“That's because that old bitch a couple doors down let one of her tricks park in my spot again,” Yolanda spat. “I had to park way down in the visitor's spot. Next time, whichever nigga she let park in my spot ain't gon' have no money to pay for her pussy because they gon' be too busy replacing all four of their tires. I'ma have that mutherfucker sittin' on bricks fuckin' with my parking spot.”

Oh well,
Secret thought as her mother's voice rang loudly in her ears.
Looks like I'm not going to have any peace after all.

Secret opened the refrigerator and started fumbling through some of the left over containers. The first container she opened was a couple pieces of tilapia her mother had cooked the night before. Secret hated the taste of leftover fish. It just didn't warm up well in the microwave. It turned mushy. The next container was some garlic mashed potatoes that she herself had made. She loved garlic mashed potatoes; the only thing was she couldn't even remember how long ago she'd made them. She made a mental note to clean the refrigerator out before her mother got to cussing and fussing about it. Next she pulled out a container from the back of the fridge. When she opened the lid the sharp smell of old broccoli and cheese assaulted her nose. She quickly put the lid back on it, but the smell lingered.

Secret quickly threw the container back in its spot as she began to gag. She tried to get her throat reflexes under control as she held her stomach. She continued to gag, knowing she'd better make her way to the bathroom and fast.

Like she was trying out for the US track team in the Olympics, Secret closed the fridge door and sprinted to the bathroom. Barely making it to the commode, she quickly lifted the toilet seat and began to heave into the bowl. The smell of the porcelain and that little blue toilet cleaner that hung on the side of the bowl made her puke even more. After about five minutes of heaving and sweating, Secret finally flushed the toilet and pulled herself off her knees. She was startled by her mother standing in the doorway when she turned around to go to the sink.

“You pregnant?” were the distinct, clear, cut-to-the-chase words that came out of Yolanda's mouth.

Still, Secret's reply was, “Huh?”

“What the fuck I tell you about ‘huhing' me?” Yolanda said. “Besides, bitch, you heard me.” Yolanda walked closer to her daughter. “You knocked up, ain't ya?”

“What makes you say that?” Secret had a stupid look on her face and let out some nervous laughter. Her first instinct was to say, “No, I'm not,” but she really didn't want to lie to her mother.

The last time she lied to her mother was when she was in ninth grade. Shawndiece had talked Secret into going to a skip party.

The other kids were drinking, smoking, and eating the mini-cereal-breakfast buffet Tico had set out. The television was tuned to some BET
106 & Park
recordings. It couldn't be heard, though, over the music that was coming out of the living room speakers.

“Yeah, I'm good,” Secret would reply, willing herself not to go into her book bag and pull out schoolwork or a book to read. As entertaining as it was to watch the boys and girls at her school who never noticed her—and still weren't paying her a lick of mind
—
flirt with, touch and grind on each other, she'd prefer to be in class obtaining whatever it would take to get her one day closer to fleeing Flint.

Secret's heart was racing. Her mother was being far too inquisitive.
She knows,
Secret thought.
She knows I didn't go to school today.
Secret thought it might be in her best interest to come clean. Then again there was a chance that a simple yes could get rid of her mother and that would be the end of it. With not much time to waste, and before Secret could catch it from slipping through her lips, there was an audible, “Yes.”

“You bet' not eva' lie to me.”

“Huh? What?” Secret was startled, her thoughts from the past returning to the present.

“Didn't I just say don't ‘huh' me?” Yolanda spat as she stood in the bathroom doorway. “Are you pregnant? And you better not lie to me, girl.”

There was no way Secret wanted to hop on the same merry-go-round she'd ridden her first year in high school when she decided to tell her first and only lie to her mother. So this time she just straight-out told the truth just to get it over with. “Yes, ma'am, I'm pregnant.” She figured now that she was eighteen, legally an adult, how bad could it be telling her mother the truth?

The loud, almost obnoxious sound coming from Yolanda's voice box and up her throat ricocheted off the bathroom walls. It took everything in Secret not to just throw her hands over her ears like some four-year-old. She couldn't lie; Secret expected to have to deal with the loudness of her mother's mouth, but what she didn't expect was exactly what was coming out of her mouth.

Laughter.

Wiping the residue of vomit from her mouth with the back of her hand, Secret just stood there looking at her mother like she was crazy. That laugh; it wasn't a happy laugh. To Secret it sounded taunting. She just stood there watching, waiting for the laughter to die down. After what seemed like forever to Secret, it finally did die down.

“Whoooo weeeee!” Yolanda said, holding her stomach. It ached from laughing so hard. “So Little Miss I'm Better Than Everybody Else, I'm Going to Run Off to College and Make Something of Myself done got herself knocked up?”

Then there it was again, that loud laughter that was agonizing to Secret, not to mention pissing her off now that there were words along with the laughter.

“What I tell you?” Yolanda said, “You just like all the rest of us around these parts.” Yolanda raised her hands up and turned full circle until she was facing her daughter again. “You stuck here.” She pointed to Secret's stomach. “And whatever you carrying in your stomach is stuck here too. This is the life, sweetheart.”

“It wasn't the life for Grandma,” Secret was quick to spit. “She didn't live here.”

Any smile that had been on Yolanda's face vanished. “Well, you ain't Grandma's daughter. You're your mother's child. The only reason why Mama lived where all those good white folks lived was because she went and married that white man after my daddy was killed.”

“Grandpa James wasn't just some white man. He was a good man. A preacher. He's the reason why Grandma found Jesus and got saved. It was God's favor why she went from this ol' raggedy hood life to the good life.”

“God favor my ass,” Yolanda huffed. “I don't know why you put her on some pedestal. Trust me when I tell you back in the day, your grandma was a force.”

Secret was boiling on the inside as her mother spoke ill of the dead. Secret's grandmother had been a lifesaver; there to take them in in their time of need. Perhaps Secret needed to remind her mother of that.

“All I know is that when we lost our house, Grandma was there to take us in,” Secret said.

“That's because she'd just found out she'd gotten the cancer,” Yolanda replied. “She knew she was going to need somebody there to take care of her with old Grandpa James having already kicked the bucket.”

Secret couldn't believe just how cruel her mother could be. She decided she no longer wanted to entertain her mother's negative conversation. So she decided in her grandmother's defense her final words would be, “The grandma I knew was a good woman. She was saved, holy, loving, kind, and was there for us when we needed her. She found Jesus and not only did He save her, but He changed her.”

“That's her story and you're stickin' with it too, huh?” Yolanda spat, shaking her head. “That old woman's got you brainwashed, but never mind that dead biddy.” Yolanda drew a cross across her heart and looked upward. “God rest her soul.” She then focused her attention back on Secret. “What you gon' do now that you got a bun in the oven? You can't stay up in here, that's for sure. The last thing I need is to hear some whiny little baby up at three in the morning looking for its mother's titty. No, ma'am. I ain't the one. But I'm sure you already figured that.” She wagged her finger in Secret's direction once again. “So what you gon' do?”

“I hate to bust your bubble, Mama, but my life's plans have not changed one bit,” Secret said with more authority than she'd ever used when speaking to her mother. “I'm not proud of my decision, but I have decided not to keep the baby.”

“So, what? Is the daddy going to keep it then? He gon' take care of his seed? If that's the case, then I guess you are like Grandma. He must be a white dude, 'cause I know ain't no jive-ass nigga gon' take care of his baby. You watch all those
Behind the Music
and
Unsung
documentaries. Don't nobody but one in five ever got a daddy who raised 'em. That's just niggas for you. So what's his name? What's this little white boy's name who fathered your baby?”

Secret hated how her mother was always seeming to put down their own race. Who did that? For a moment Secret thought her mother just refused to find the good in Blacks, but then she realized Yolanda couldn't seem to find the good in anything or anybody.

“He's not a white boy,” Secret said.

“What? A black man willing to raise his own child?” Yolanda put her hands on her slender hips. “Then somebody call
The Guinness Book of World Records
and get this fool inducted immediately.” Yolanda began to laugh again.

“Nobody's keeping the baby. I'm getting an abortion!” Secret shouted over Yolanda's laughing.

“What did you say?” Yolanda's tone was indifferent. She really hadn't heard what Secret had said.

Almost cowering down Secret said, “I'm getting an abortion.”

Yolanda just stared at her for a few seconds. “Huh, taking the easy way out. Figures.” She shook her head.

“Easy? Mama, none of this was easy.”

“Oh, but lying on your back and letting some dude crawl up in between your pussy and nut all up in there, giving you a baby, was?”

Secret turned her head in disgust. “Girl, your mama be cracking me up with that mouth of hers. She know she be keepin' it real,” Secret could hear Shawndiece saying. In Secret's opinion, if this was keepin' it real—being as vulgar as a porno director—then Secret would take being fake any day.

“Don't act like you disgusted with what I'm saying. If letting some trifling nigga run up in you raw ain't disgusting, then I don't know what is.”

“Mama, you act like you didn't let Daddy do the same thing to you,” was what Secret wanted to say so badly, but she knew she'd be collecting her teeth up off the floor if she did. So instead, she just stood there boiling inside, biting her tongue.

“Let me stop talking about this poor baby daddy of yours. At least the fool is going to pay for the abortion.”

Secret's eyes cast downward.

“He is paying for it isn't he? I mean you the one who got to put your body through all that bullshit. The least he can do is pay for it. I ain't never had one personally, but one of my homegirls did when we were younger and she said it ain't no joke. She said it's like they put a vacuum stick up in you, hit the on button, and just suck the life out of you.” Yolanda chuckled. “I guess they are sucking the life out of you.” She laughed louder.

Secret cringed.

“Oh, girl, woman up. Put your big-girl panties on. Hell, you done took 'em off to get screwed. Now put 'em back on and go take care of your business. And if you need me to go over the mutherfucker's house with you and get that abortion money, you ain't say nothing but a thang. You might have fucked my daughter, but you ain't about to screw her over.”

Secret had to admit, Yolanda's willingness to support her and have her back on trying to shake down the baby daddy for money felt good. Unfortunately, that's not exactly what Secret needed from Yolanda.

“Ma, I'm not trying to do all that,” Secret said. She paused before fixing her lips to say, “I was just hoping that, you know, you could help me.” Secret swallowed hard. She was nervous about asking her mother anything. Needing help from her mother and actually asking her were two different things. If Secret was lying in the middle of the floor with a knife wound, bleeding all over the place, she felt her mother might help her out of human instinct, subconsciously. But if she straight-out asked her to help her, she felt her mother was the type of person who might let her lie there and suffer a little longer just to spite her—her own natural instinct.

“Help you how?” Yolanda was quick to ask, snapping her neck back.

“Well, I wanted to use the health card to get some money taken off the cost of the procedure. And maybe if I could borrow whatever else I might need, that would be—”

“Hold on.” Yolanda put her hand up. “You want me to be the one to take care of you getting an abortion?”

Secret shrugged; then there it was again—that loud, screeching laugh.

“Bitch, you done lost your mind. I wish the fuck I would. All you've done these last few months was walk around here like your shit don't stank, acting like you better than me. And now you want me to help yo' ass. Bitch, fuck you! That's just what you get.”

Yes, Secret liked to think she was immune to all the “bitches” and “fuck you's” her mother spewed out. Perhaps it was the pregnancy, but her emotions were on high. It was like with every word that came out of her mother's mouth, her blood began to boil.

Yolanda continued her rant. “Been shitting on me but now you want me to wipe your ass.” Yolanda walked up on Secret and got in her face. “Face it, Mama is always right. This is who you are.” She grabbed Secret by the cheeks and turned her head to face the mirror. Both women stared at their reflections. “This is who you are always going to be. You are me.”

Words have power.
Secret remembered her grandmother telling her that. If her grandmother was accurate, then that meant the words Yolanda had just spoken could possibly manifest themselves. No way Secret could allow that to happen. She'd managed to pretty much remain tightlipped through all of her mother's tirades over the years. But she had to take away the power of her mother's words, even if that meant finally finding a power within herself.

After looking at both her and her mother's reflections, Secret pulled away. “No! I'm not you and you're just mad because you're not me.” Secret had been thinking it, but no way had she meant to say it. But the words had slipped out now and there was no taking them back. Secret knew her teeth were as good as gone, so she might as well continue speaking her mind and make it well worth having to wear dentures. “I'm not going to be some project hood rat running around mad at the world. I'm pregnant. I wish I wasn't but I am. If I could turn back the hands of time I would make different decisions, but I can't. This is it.”

Secret raised her arms and let them drop back to her side like wet noodles. “But what I am going to do is fix this situation the best I can. Unfortunately that means not bringing another life into this world. But once I'm ready to start a family, with a husband, then that's what I'm going to do. That's part of the plan. But for now, I'm going to take care of the situation; then I'm going to go off to college, as planned, graduate with honors, get a career, start a family, and live happily ever after. The fucking end!” By now tears were streaming down Secret's face. It was a mixture, tears of joy, pain, fear, and relief. It was like she was finally at the end of the rope of mental torture her mother had been strangling her with for so many years. She knew that basically she was grabbing a pair of shears out of her pocket and cutting the rope the same way the doctor had cut her umbilical cord when she was born. Would it be blasphemy to say she felt as if she was being reborn?

“As soon as I get that letter saying I got that scholarship, I'm packing up and I'm gone,” Secret continued. “I'm going to become something more than what I could ever be if I stay here. I'm sorry for disrespecting you, Mama, but I'm not you and I'd rather die than become you.”

Yolanda had never been more heated in her life. She was having a mental conversation with herself, willing herself not to take her hands and wrap them around Secret's throat until she choked that last breath out of her. She was so mad she began to tremble, reminding Secret of Renee on the
Mob Wives
reality show. Secret coiled back, just waiting for a blow from her mother. A blow was certainly what she got. Only not the kind she'd expected.

“Letter? You mean the letter that came last week addressed to you in care of me? The letter stating you were denied the scholarship?” It was obvious by the look on Yolanda's face that she enjoyed being the bearer of bad news.

Secret, on the other hand, gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of her.

“Yeah, that's right,” Yolanda gloated with an I-told-you-so look on her face. “No money, no college. So it looks to me, baby girl, that you ain't got no money for school or an abortion.” Yolanda hollered in laughter as she exited the bathroom.

Secret could hear her laughing all the way until Yolanda was behind her closed bedroom door. Even then Secret could hear little chuckles here and there. Still trying to find her breath, and now her strength, Secret held on for dear life to the rim of the sink counter and tried to balance herself. She looked at herself in the mirror. The more she stared at her image, the more it began to transform from her own features to that of her mother's.

“Oh, God, no.” Secret gasped, managing to go sit down on the toilet lid. She buried her face in her hands. “But I worked so hard.” She paused and then looked up. “Why, God, why? I worked so hard to earn that scholarship. Why didn't I get it?”

In a matter of time things for Secret felt as though they'd gone from bad, to worse, to almost unbearable. Not having money for an abortion was one thing, but not having money for college was a whole other animal. “I was just so sure . . .” Secret's words trailed off as her voice began to crack. As far as Secret had been concerned, that full ride to OSU had been in the bag. Even her guidance counselor, who had written a letter of recommendation and submitted the application on her behalf, had been so sure. What happened? Where had things gone wrong?