Welfare Wifeys (3 page)

Attending high school in itself was exciting to Malika, but to be so far out of her parents’ reach only added to the thrill. It didn’t take long for the boys to notice the pretty caramel shorty with the supermodel smile and silky locks and Malika soaked up the attention she got. While attending school in Queens she often came across the same faces from year to year, but at King all the flavors were different. It was like a great big stage and the once quiet and reserved Malika found herself auditioning for the leading role.

The summer before her junior year Malika was a victim of her
first crush. He had been a Brooklyn cat named Suede who hustled in the projects near her neighborhood. Suede had money, cars, and the attention of every girl within a ten-block radius. Suede had chased young Malika for almost three months before she would even entertain a conversation with him. Their courtship went from the chase, to dating, to her being pregnant by the older man.

Malika’s father went through the roof when he found out she was pregnant and had it not been for her mother he surely would’ve beaten the baby out of her. He was angry at his daughter for deviating from what they’d taught her about being careful, but he was also very hurt. He had watched his own mother struggle to raise him and his sisters, and couldn’t bare the thought of having his own child throw her life away. Malika’s father had given her an ultimatum: abort the child or get out of his house. So she left.

Suede got them a small apartment in the Bronx that they could call their own. It was only a studio, but it was theirs. Malika continued to go to school, but as the baby grew in her stomach it became more and more of a struggle, and Suede’s moodiness didn’t make it any easier. It seemed like the further along she got in her pregnancy the more distant he became, often not coming home for days at a time. Suede was totally out of order, but she put up with it rather than risking him leaving her. The more she put up with the more Suede attempted, even giving her an STD during her sixth month of pregnancy. When she confronted him about it he slapped her and accused her of giving it to him from her whoring, even though he was the only man she had ever been with.

Suede eventually got arrested and left Malika to take care of the bills and him while he was away. She continued to go to school and work a part-time job at Wendy’s, but the stress of juggling both of them in her current condition eventually became too much, forcing her to give one up. School wasn’t paying her bills so she let it go and toiled at Wendy’s until she was thirty-two weeks into her pregnancy. She was scared, alone, and broke, but she held it together
and gave birth to a beautiful baby boy that she named Solomon. From the first time she held him she knew that it was impossible to love anyone or anything the way she loved her new son. The first years were the roughest for them, with Malika having to go without eating some nights so that her son wouldn’t. Just before Solomon’s third birthday she got the news that Suede had been released from prison, but for some reason he hadn’t bothered to tell her that he was getting out. She found out through a friend that he was staying with his mother in Manhattan, so one snowy day she bundled little Solomon up and took the long trip into Manhattan.

She wanted to surprise Suede, but she was the one who ended up surprised when she showed up on the doorstep only to find Suede living with another girl, who was also pregnant by him. Suede looked at Malika like she was the dirt on the bottom of his shoe and told his new girlfriend that she was just an obsessed little girl who was trying to pin another man’s baby on him. Malika showed him obsessed when she opened his forearm up with a box cutter. That was the last time she saw Suede. Her first crush had damaged her heart beyond repair so Malika threw herself into raising her son and trying to get her life back together. From that moment on she vowed that the only man she would ever let into her heart again would be Solomon.

Malika hadn’t realized that she was crying until she blinked and a tear rolled down her cheek. She laughed because her tears were warmer than the water. Ignoring the frigid cold Malika hurriedly washed away the rest of the shampoo and soap and jumped out of the shower so she could finish getting dressed. With towels wrapped around her body and hair she stepped out of the bathroom and tripped over a sneaker that had been carelessly left in the hallway.

“Damn it, Solomon,” she cursed, snatching the sneaker up and making
her way down the short hall to his bedroom. Before she reached the door she could hear the music coming from the room. It was a lewd song about money, clothes, and of course hos. She recognized the cut from a new mix tape that Big Dawg Entertainment had released called “Welcome to the Jungle,” featuring Don B. and his newest artist The Animal. Malika pushed the door open and looked at her son in shock.

At the age of twelve Solomon was almost as tall as Malika, but weighed about ninety pounds soaking wet. He was dressed in a red Black Label T-shirt she’d bought him for Christmas and a pair of skinny jeans that she certainly hadn’t bought. More of a shock than the feminine jeans was the red bandana hanging from his back pocket. He never heard Malika when she walked into the room, but he felt it when she suddenly smacked him upside the head.

“What the f—” Solomon started but caught himself. “Ma, why you hit me for?”

“You’re lucky I didn’t punch you in the damn face.” She snatched the bandana. “What the hell is this?”

“Huh?” Solomon asked dumbly.

Malika grabbed him by the front of his T-shirt and hauled him in close. “Boy, don’t play with me. What are you doing carrying this damn flag?”

Solomon looked at the flag as if he were seeing it for the first time. “That ain’t no flag, Ma. Flags have stripes and stars. That’s just an old sweat rag.”

Malika gave him another pop with the hand holding the sweat rag. “Solomon, you know I ain’t no square, so cut it out, okay? The people and things you choose to identify yourself with can have life-altering consequences, especially this little game right here.” She waved the bandana in his face. “In certain neighborhoods this piece of cloth could cost you your life. I’ll kill you myself before I let the streets have you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mommy,” Solomon said timidly.

“And where did you get those tight-ass jeans, because I know I didn’t buy them?” She frowned at the jeans.

“These joints are fly, Ma.” Solomon spun around so she could get a good look at them. “I used the money Grandma sent me for my birthday to buy them. Do you like them?”

“No I don’t like them. Boy, it looks like you’re wearing spandex.” Malika tugged at the jeans, but they had no give.

“Ma, you bugging. All the kids are wearing these,” Solomon told her.

“Well, not my kid,” she shot back. “Change them jeans before you give yourself a yeast infection.” She snapped the bandana at him playfully and left the room. Fifteen minutes later they were both dressed and ready to face the world.

As Soon as Malika and Solomon stepped into the hallway they smelled it. It was like the smell of burning paper, with an acidic bite. Malika sighed and made her way to Stairwell A and peered inside. Then she shoved the door to Stairwell B open and scared the daylights out of Shakes, who nearly dropped the crack pipe he was sucking on.

“Damn it, Shakes!” Malika snapped.

“Girl, you know better than to be sneaking up on an old man like that.” Shakes gave her a rotten-toothed grin. He was dressed in a wrinkled business suit and dirty overcoat. At one time Shakes had been a master booster, but now he was just another addict trying to escape the reality of his life.

“And you know better than to be smoking that shit on my floor. I asked y’all not to do that.” Malika folded her arms.

“Come on, baby girl, it’s cold on them streets.” Shakes pulled his jacket collar up as if the chill had suddenly made it inside the stairwell.

“Then smoke them rocks in your own damn house.”

Shakes gave her a bewildered look. “And have my mama kill me? I don’t think so, baby. So, other than busting the balls of honest crackheads like myself, what you been up to, Malika?”

“Trying to keep crack heads from trying to get high in my staircase,” she joked. “Nah, I’m just out here trying to get in where I fit in.”

“Malika, girls like you don’t fit in, you carve your own niches. You ain’t like the rest of these little girls.”

“Shakes, how do you figure that and we all live in these same nasty ass projects?” she asked.

“Because you’ve got the good sense to see outside these project bricks,” he replied. “Malika, I know you ain’t no angel, but you ain’t into all kinds of foolishness like the rest of these chicks. I watch the young girls floating around these projects from sunup to sunup keeping company with different men and cussing like they ain’t got no sense.”

“Shakes, one could question your sense for still smoking them rocks,” Malika said.

Shakes looked at the pipe that he had only just realized that he was still holding and shrugged. “Old habits for an old fool. You know how it can be.”

“Ma, elevator!” Solomon called. He was holding the elevator door open and tapping his foot impatiently.

“I’ll catch you later, Shakes.” Malika waved and got into the elevator.

The tiny steel car was hot, greasy, and rank, as it was most of the time. Malika and Solomon had to stand nearly pressed against the door to avoid stepping in the puddle of urine in the center of the elevator floor. After what seemed like an eternity the elevator reached the first floor and they rushed off, holding their noses. As usual the local knuckleheads were standing in front of the building, taking up space. It seemed like no matter what time of day or night Malika came in they were always there. Most of them were relatively harmless,
but there were the few who were just trouble, which was the case with the young boy holding the door for Malika and Solomon.

“What’s good, Malika?” Scar asked. His shifty dark eyes rolled over her body. He was a young block star from the projects who wore trouble like a second skin. Scar had gotten the name because of the scar that stretched from his left temple to the tip of his nose. As the story went, Scar had wrongfully cut a man in one prison and ended up bumping into him in a second prison where the favor was returned. Out of all the young men who hung out in front of Malika’s building Scar was probably the worst, constantly causing trouble and filling the younger boys’ heads with gang propaganda.

“Not much,” she replied and kept walking.

“What’s good, buzz’n?” Scar gave little Solomon dap and the boy’s eyes lit up.

“Solomon,” Malika corrected Scar.

“Huh?”

“Solomon. His name is Solomon,” Malika repeated.

“My fault, Ma, I didn’t mean nothing by it,” Scar told her with a crooked grin.

“It’s all good.” Malika took Solomon by the hand and hurried toward the avenue. “I want you to stay away from that boy, do you hear me?” she told Solomon once they were out of earshot.

“Ma, Scar is cool. That’s the big homey,” Solomon said proudly.

“That snake is not
your
homey, and I’d better not catch you in that lobby with him and the rest of those junior delinquents. Do you hear me?”

“Okay, gosh,” Solomon grumbled. He knew that his mother only rode him to protect him, but he hated when she treated him like some stupid kid who didn’t know what was happening on the streets. In Solomon’s mind he was technically the man of the house and therefore it was his job to make sure his family was good. Day in and day out, he watched his mother struggle just so that they could have a little and it tore him apart inside. He vowed that one
day she would be able to just kick her feet up while he took care of things.

As they stood on the curb waiting for the light to change so that they could cross the street and catch the number seven bus, a gold Acura pulled to a clumsy stop at the curb. The door flew open releasing a cloud of weed smoke and profane lyrics that were blasting from the speakers. A girl slithered from the car dressed in a pair of tight-fitting jeans and spandex shirt. She had a bit of a gut, but her small waist and curvaceous hips drew attention away from it. The light breeze blew her rich black weave, making her look like Farrah Fawcett at a photo shoot. In her manicured hand she held the six-inch heels that had given her feet enough hell so that she wore her broke-down thong flip-flops in the chill. Between her MAC-coated lips she twirled a cherry lollipop back and forth while the driver gave her his parting words. She laughed and blew him a kiss, releasing him from her spell and allowing him to compose himself enough to drive away. Jada Butler was a bad chick and she dared anyone to tell her different.

“What’s up, Jada? I’m surprised to see your ass out and about so early,” Malika greeted her.

“Girl, I’m just coming in,” Jada said proudly. “What’s up, Sol? Boy, you’re getting just as big and fine as you wanna be.” Jada smiled at Solomon, showing off the fifteen grand in dental work she’d had done.

“Yeah, I know you see me, J, but you need to see
about
me,” Solomon capped.

Jada laughed. “Listen to this one.”

“You better watch that mouth of yours.” Malika pointed her finger at her son.

“It’s all good, Malika. You know it’ll be years before his little ass even has an idea of what to do with all this.” Jada slapped herself on the ass.

“I doubt if he’ll be able to handle you even then. So where are you coming from this morning?”

Jada popped the lollipop from her mouth and waved it like a conductor’s wand as she spoke. “Girl, ol’ boy from the Knicks had a party in Atlantic City and a friend of a friend had the hookup, so you know I had to be in the building. When I tell you that it was some
things
in the building, it was some things in the building. I hit your phone to see if you wanted to roll, but when you didn’t answer I ended up having to take that dusty bitch Renee with me, and you know the girl ain’t got no home training.”

“I was probably studying when you called; you know I don’t take no calls during crunch time,” Malika reminded her.

“You still taking them online classes?”