Sex, Secrets and South Beach (34 page)

The Last Word?

N
ow y'all know I’m not going out like that. I've
been through too much and come too far to go out
like a sucker. It's a trip that I can hear almost everything that
is going on around me, but I can't respond. There's so much I want
to say to Bentley, to Sparks, and to Ginger. There's so much I want
to thank them for. But I'll have my chance soon enough. I feel
myself getting stronger; I know I'm on my way back to life. And
although I've always had my theories, I'm not ready to find out if
my boy Tupac is really dead or not. I don't wonder if heaven got a
ghetto. I know it does, and it's called hell! I was on my way there
in a handbasket with gasoline drawers on.

Somewhere along the way I
lost my faith, faith in a higher power and faith in myself. But I
won't be seeing any parts of hell anytime soon. I'm going to live.
And even if I don't live, thanks to Ginger, I know that my
salvation is already taken care of. It's by God's grace that I'm
still here. And when I come out of this coma, because I will, I'm
going to make sure that I spend the rest of my life showing Him
just how grateful I am for all the chances I've had.

I did a lot of dirt in my
day, and for that I'm truly sorry. I used so many people to get
what I wanted in the name of survival when what I really needed to
live was love. No designer fashion, no pocket full of cash, no trip
ever gave me the satisfaction of how it felt to be really and truly
loved; loved by my dad and grandparents, by Ginger, by Sparks, and
especially by Bentley.

I don't know how I could
begin to make up for the wrong that I've done; I can barely
remember all the men's faces, let alone their names. But I think
that if I give to those in need, give without being asked and
without expecting anything in return, maybe that will be a start.
Maybe if I help others instead of always being out for self, I can
make a difference in someone's life, and not just their
wallet.

I still want to rap, but I
can't say that my lyrics are going to focus on the same old same
old. How much can one person talk about money, cars, clothes,
thugging, fucking, and balling? We've had enough of that. It's time
for something new, something that will really change the world. I
know that as an entertainer I have to give the people what they
want, but maybe they don't realize that they want and deserve so
much more than what they're getting. I didn't.

I know Sparks isn't going
to scrap the album, and I don't really want him to. I worked hard
on it, and it is a reflection of who I was–at the time. I'm not
going to start fronting now. Plus, I'm going to need all the money
I can get to pay this hospital bill. I don't want my fans to get
the wrong idea and think that I'm still all about the streets,
because I've learned that there's so much more out there. There's a
world of good things just waiting to be claimed, even for the girls
in the hood. I'm going to show them that there's a way to get it
but that they don't have to do what I did. I don't know exactly how
I'll handle that, but I guess it's a bridge I'll cross when I get
to it. I know that God will give me the courage and the wisdom to
do what I need to do, so I'll just be still, put it in his hands,
and do what the Spirit guides me to do.

I didn't have the best
start in life, and for a long time I let that stand in my way. I
used it as an excuse as to why I couldn't do something, and I even
thought that because I grew up poor and without a family, I didn’t
deserve for anything good to happen to me. And because of the rape
and how I was raised, I thought I was dirty and tainted and didn’t
deserve love. But now I understand that it is my birthright and my
destiny to inherit all the riches of God’s kingdom. I don’t have to
buy into the whole, “all women are bitches and bitches ain’t shit”
mentality. And I’m going to make sure that no little girl within
the sound of my voice buys into that garbage either. Women are
queens; we just have to realize that we wear the crown.

I always thought that if I
had a better upbringing, I would have had a better life, and maybe
that’s true. But I’m all grown-up now, even if I grew up way too
fast, and now I can’t continue to blame my family or my
environment. I have the responsibility and the capability to be
“the master of my fate and the captain of my soul,” as one of my
favorite poems, called “Invictus,” says.

I don’t profess to have
all the answers. Not even by a long shot. But I know that I’m going
to get there, God willing. Bentley hasn’t left my side, and now
there is no doubt that he really loves me. Bentley told me that
Ginger and Sparks were busy trying to find who did this to me, and
I know that if anyone can figure it out, it’s those two. They are
the smartest people I know, and they love me. The way I see it,
they’re my best shot, because the LAPD ain’t got no love for a
black person or a Latino.

Bentley also says we’re
going to get married and try for another baby; he told me that I
lost this one. I know he would have been an excellent father, and I
would have been a pretty fantastic mother myself. But maybe it
wasn’t meant to be right now. But what’s definitely not meant to be
is me taking a dirt nap. I’m a Leo baby, the biggest of all the
cats. The way I see it, I’ve got at least seven more lives
left.

Méta Smith
was born in Philadelphia and raised on the south
side of Chicago. She attended Clark Atlanta University where she
majored in Mass Communications, and later transferred to Spelman
College in Atlanta, where she received a Bachelor’s Degree in
English.

Her adventurous spirit took her to
Miami on a vacation that turned into a six-year residency. In Miami
she fell in love with the South Beach club scene and worked a
myriad of jobs to support her nightlife addiction, including
waitress, promotions coordinator for the local UPN television
affiliate, middle-school English teacher, nightclub promoter and
music video model.

Méta has also worked extensively in
the field of fundraising for philanthropic causes, using her social
skills and her gift for writing to raise over $14 million for a
variety of non-profit organizations, including the United Way and
the Benedictine Sisters of Chicago, an order of monastic
nuns.

Méta recently returned to the
classroom, working with autistic and developmentally challenged
students at her alma mater Kenwood Academy, where she also coached
cheerleading, and interning in the English Department at Harold
Washington College. She received a Master's Degree in English
(Writing and Publishing) from DePaul University in June
2015.

Méta Smith lives in Chicago with her
son Jordan.

Are you an aspiring
author?

Do you have a story to
tell?

Visit

SmithBerryJames.com/Submissions

for information on how you
can join our roster of authors.