Imani All Mine (9 page)

I was still shaking her when I seen her face all smeared in lotion. She was looking at me like she scared of me. Like she ain't know me. I stopped shaking her. Imani was quiet, just like I told her to be. Then she bust out crying, and I thought my heart would fall right out of me. I wanted to run out that room and take me a time-out. Mrs. Poole say if your baby giving you stress and ain't old enough for a time-out, you take a time-out.

But Imani ain't want me to go. She grabbed hold of me real tight to love her. To hold her near my heart. Even after what I done. I felt like a real dog. Like some bitch that ain't even have a right to have a baby so sweet. I was glad she was so close to me so I ain't have to look at her face. I ain't even know how to say to her how sorry I was in words, so I laid down and sung her “Ten Little Angels,” over and over. I don't know if she want to hear it, but I kept on singing until she sat up and smiled at me. Forgiving me like I ain't even have no right to be forgiven for.

I ain't know nothing about how I could've hurt Imani head. Gave her a brain injury. When I finally go back to school, I wasn't thinking nothing about shaking her. I went back thinking about Mr. Toliver.

All my other teachers took what work I did and then give me even more so I could be where I was supposed to be. With my mouth all dry, I went up to Mr. Toliver after class. I ain't have no excuse in my mouth. All I had was my work in my hand. Mr. Toliver looked up at me when I handed it to him. He smiled at me. Maybe like the devil would smile at you. All teeth, so you think he got something good for you. I smiled back.

Then he got out a red pen and marked a big fat F on every paper. Mr. Toliver ain't say nothing. He was still grinning and had a look on his face like he want me to say something. Something in my stupid and broke-down way. Like, You wrong, Mr. Toliver. So he could say, You
are
wrong, Mr. Toliver. And I would have to concentrate until my head was pounding to say, No, I said exactly what I meant.
You wrong
, Mr. Toliver.

He ain't say nothing to me the rest of the week, and I ain't say nothing to him. I just did my work and actually looked forward to going on to Mrs. Poole class at the end of the day, where the temperature be normal and she don't have no fake smiles.

Mrs. Poole wasn't smiling at all, though, when she finished up talking about shaking babies. She say, The holidays is a time of stress for you and your child. Girls, take a time-out if you need one. Then she told us all to have a Merry Christmas and she give us all a article to take home about Shaken Baby Syndrome. I folded it up and slipped it in my book without even bothering to look at it.

When Mrs. Poole let class out, I usually be one of the first ones busting out the door. But I stayed around packing up my backpack. After everybody left, Mrs. Poole ask me if I want to talk to her about something. I was shame about what I done to Imani. Too shame to ever tell Mama. To even tell Eboni. I mean, it was a secret only I knew. Imani probably ain't even remember it happened. But I did, and I forgot all about being mad with Mrs. Poole because I ain't remember her saying nothing about shaking a baby before. I went right up to her desk and told her how I shook Imani. I ain't never done it again, I say. I ain't know you shouldn't do it. I wasn't crying or nothing when I told her.

Mrs. Poole told me to sit down. I sat right in front her, and she say, I'm glad you told me this, Tasha. You made a mistake. A
big
mistake, and you need to know there some mistakes you can't never set right. You was lucky, Mrs. Poole say.

I say, I ain't never hurt my baby. I never hit her. I don't cuss her and call her names. Nothing like that. I respect her.

Mrs. Poole say, I know you respect your child. I seen you with her. You take good care of her, Tasha. You a good mother.

I almost fell out my seat. Mrs. Poole say it! I'm a good mama! Her saying that felt better than if Mr. Toliver had marked all my papers a 100.

Then she say, You not perfect, Tasha. No parent perfect. I'm not. My husband not. We raised our children together, though. Most of you girls raising your children alone. How much help you get from your mother?

There I was feeling better, and she had to ruin it by trying to get in my business.

She help, I say.

Well, that's good, Mrs. Poole say. Every parent need some help, especially a single parent. You girls is under pressure raising your kids. Talk with your mama when you feeling frustrated. When you need help. Or you can talk to me if you want, Mrs. Poole say.

And I was thinking, Yeah, right! Like I'm a-come to you like you a what? A friend? My mama?

But Mrs. Poole must be some kind of mind reader ready for the psychic telephone. She say, I know I'm not the first person you'd think to turn to, Tasha. But sometimes the one you think you'd come to last is the one you can turn to first. Then she got up. You have a nice vacation now, Tasha.

And I am. I ain't been going to no parties. When I got home from talking with Mrs. Poole that day I pulled out the decorations for Christmas like I'm a good mama. I taped our black Santa up in the window with his reindeer. Plugged in our electric candles and sat them in the front windows. Put some ribbon candy out in bowls. Got our fake tree out the basement and put ornaments on it. Imani watched me the whole time like she could tell something good was coming her first Christmas out in the world. And it was, because Aunt Mavis nem came.

I don't know, maybe Imani remember when she was inside me last year at Christmas. When Aunt Mavis nem didn't come and Christmas was nothing but silent nights and silent days. We ain't even put up the tree. Mama got a little plant that come already decorated for Christmas from Woolworth. We ain't have up nam light when every house on our block was lit up. Had been that way since Thanksgiving. Even June Bug strung some lights on Miss Odetta porch. But at our house it looked like a bunch of Jehovah Witnesses or Nation of Islam people was living up in here. Like you could come to our house and buy a
Watch Tower
or a bean pie. I wasn't stutting no Christmas, because Imani was still inside me. A secret I couldn't tell.

This year Aunt Mavis nem come on Christmas Eve. Late. Imani was already sleeping. They car was loaded down with food and presents.

Mama say, Look like ya'll moving in!

Don't it! Uncle Willis say. Believe me, sister, there ain't no food left in Virginia. Mavis bought it all.

It took him and Willis Junior and little Frankie ten trips to the car to bring everything in. The last thing Uncle Willis brung in was his big box of albums and them funny little forty-fives. Him and Aunt Mavis always bring music with them.

Seem like Aunt Mavis started cooking soon as she hit the door. She pulled out every pot and pan we had. There was water in my mouth from all the things Aunt Mavis say she was going to cook. Chitlins, black-eye peas, candied yams with marshmallows on top, sweet potato pies, greens, macaroni and cheese. She was going to make a turkey and cornbread dressing and a Smithfield ham from Virginia. Aunt Mavis let us all help make the potato pies. Mama measured the lard and flour for the crusts. But she wouldn't let Mama mix it.

Mama say, I know how to do it.

Aunt Mavis say, All you know about making pie crusts is taking some Pet Ritz shells out a plastic bag. I don't want you overmixing the dough, making it tough. You can't do nothing but sole a shoe with it then.

Mama sucked her teeth. But Aunt Mavis mixed the crusts and rolled them out. The boys peeled the potatoes, and Aunt Mavis stood over them cutting out the potato eyes. Uncle Willis ate the peels like he crazy. He put butter and sugar on them. I put the potatoes through the ricer. Aunt Mavis ain't even stand over me. She let me do it like I know what I was doing.

I wanted to season the potatoes, but Aunt Mavis laughed and say, Girl, there ain't no way I'd let a child season some potato pies. We all sat around watching her add the eggs, Pet milk, cinnamon, brown sugar, white sugar. She wasn't measuring nothing. Little Frankie moved next to Aunt Mavis. She say, If you stick your finger in this bowl, I'll break it. We all laughed because I think we was all wanting a taste. But Aunt Mavis was the one to taste it first. Then she went to adding stuff again. It wasn't until after she poured all the filling in the pie crusts that we had a chance to taste. Uncle Willis was serious as cancer. He was going two licks for our every one.

While the pies was cooking, me and the boys went in the living room and played cards. Tunk and Rummy. Frankie ain't win and say me and Junior was cheating because he younger. We wasn't. Junior even threw him a hand and let him win. But little Frankie ain't stupid. He say, I'm a-tell Daddy you letting me win! Frankie still a baby. Still suck his thumb. We let Frankie pick something to watch on TV, and he shut up. Uncle Willis come in the living room and turn the stereo on full blast. I looked through the album covers.

He had Al Green, the Stylistics, the Dells, the Spinners, Parliament Funkadelics, the Commodores, the Jackson Five, Tavares, the Staple Singers, the Ohio Players, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, the Three Degrees, Earth Wind and Fire, Millie Jackson, Rufus, Rick James, James Brown. Sometime when them old songs come on, at first I think it's going to be a rap song. Sound like a rap song. But it ain't. It's just somebody singing. When Uncle Willis come in to put on more music, Junior say in my ear, Help, we trapped in the seventies, and we can't get out.

I was watching Mama nem in the kitchen. Sly-like. Like I wasn't watching them. Uncle Willis was drinking some beer and singing like he can sing. Mama and Aunt Mavis was standing at the sink drinking Pepsi, Aunt Mavis was picking greens and talking real fast and loud. But I couldn't hear her over the music. Then her and Mama would both laugh and throw they heads back.

That night the boys slept in my room. Frankie kept asking a bunch of questions. How Santa Claus going to find me here? Why your blanket smell like cheese? If I can't sleep, will Santa come? Me and Junior told him Santa can find you anywhere. And I told him my blanket ain't smell like no cheese! And if he ain't be quiet and go to sleep, Santa wasn't coming for him. He started whining, but Junior let him climb inside his sleeping bag, and he sucked his thumb and went to sleep.

We all got up early on Christmas, even Imani. The boys got a video game system and a pile of games. Imani got some pop beads, clothes, and a doll. Mama give me a small boom-box, a new backpack I was needing, and twenty dollars. I give her a bottle of perfume from Woolworth. Not a cheap one. But one that come with powder in a nice box. Mama say she like it. She put on the perfume.

While Mama was taking her shower and the boys and Uncle Willis was playing with the video games, with Imani crawling all over them, Aunt Mavis let me grate cheese for the macaroni and cheese while she put on the greens to cook.

She say, You know, Tasha, I like being here with you.

With me? I say.

Yeah, with you, she say. You lucky you got a girl. I always wanted me a girl to share pretty things with. She stopped pushing the greens down in the pot and come right up to me and give me a hug.

I just stood there with a piece of cheese in one hand until she lets me go.

We ate a early dinner at two o'clock. Wasn't too much talking going on, because was all greasing, stuffing ourselves like regular pigs. Uncle Willis had put a whole stack of Christmas albums on the stereo. I liked the Jackson Five one when they sang “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”

After dinner I played video games with the boys. I ain't want to. Aunt Mavis nem was all in the kitchen, and I wanted to be with them. The grown folks. Like I was grown. I put Imani to sleep while the boys kept on playing and arguing over the top of the music about who was cheating and whose turn it was. Uncle Willis come and snatched the plug out the wall.

Junior and Frankie screamed, Daddy!

Uncle Willis say, I've had enough of ya'll yammering! I'm putting this away until tomorrow, and if you don't act right then, I'm taking it back to the store.

Frankie ask, Daddy, how you going to do that? Santa the one brung it.

Junior bust out laughing, and so did I.

Uncle Willis say, Go take a walk with Tasha. The boys liked that idea, and Mama gave me a five-dollar food stamp and say we could stop up to the Arabian store and spend it if we wanted.

It was already a lot of snow on the ground and it was snowing hard. The boys liked it, because they don't get snow down where they live. They was rolling around in it. Frankie rolled right into the street, and we had to grab him because a car was coming. That cockeye boy and these other little kids was making snow angels at the end of the block. Frankie and Junior ain't never seen that before, and they fell right out in the snow and started making angels. They was flapping they arms and legs. Come on, Frankie say, licking snot off his lips. This fun, Tasha.

I thought I was too big to be making angels. I'm a mama. But I made one, the biggest one, and then went on to the store.

That Arabian store was decorated for Christmas, with all color flashing lights going in the window. There was even a little decorated fake tree on the counter, even though I don't think the Arabians that run the store really celebrate Christmas.

We got us pop and chips and pork rinds, red hot fire balls, and some Slim Jims. We ain't spent the whole five dollars. We got change back so the boys could play the video game by the door. It's real old. But I guess they figured it was all the playing they was going to do for the rest of the day.

While they playing they game, I snuck a peek at this one Arabian guy name Omar who work there sometime. He black like me but got that real good hair and a gold tooth in the front his mouth. Omar real fine, with a thick mustache and these sleepy eyes. He look kind of young. I can't really tell. Miss Odetta say he like black coffee. No sugar, no cream. That he got babies by black girls and he married to a Arabian woman that wear a head scarf over her face and that he don't never let come out the house. I don't know if I believe Miss Odetta. I don't know no girl he got a baby by. But he do smile at me real nice sometimes when I go in the store.