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Authors: Ebony N. Donahue

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BOOK: Spoiled Secrets
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Dear GOD,

 

 

Maybe you think I was a little harsh the other day.  Maybe, just maybe, I was a tiny bit upset at you.  And, I know, you know why.

 

I’m writing you today to see if we can start our relationship over, I would like to try something new.  Instead of venting my frustrations out on you, can we just talk?  I’m tired, tired … so tired of the negative.  I’m tired of holding everything inside.  I need a release, a release other than my poetry.  I need someone that truly knows me, the real me.  Not the perfect version of me that I cast upon the world. 

 

Well… the other day I met the strangest little girl.  She was so infectious!  She took my world from gray skies to blue skies with just her smile.  When her “Big Brother” showed up, my day went from blue skies to a sunny summer day.  By the end of this little meet and greet, my sunny summer day turned into a cleansing spring rain.

 

GOD, I truly let my guard down and I did this with a complete stranger.  Peanut, that’s the little girl that I met.  She started talking about feeling my pain.  Where this came from I have the slightest idea. The funny thing is, I was in a lot of pain…emotionally.  I don’t know what came over me.  The walls that I carefully built around myself came tumbling down. And, guess what?  I didn’t fall on my face!

 

There were strong, silent arms to hold me while my walls crumbled.  I wept for my lost youth. I wept for my daily torment. I wept because I was free to do so, without a million questions from the peanut gallery also known as Emily and Keisha.  I wept and accepted the embrace because for the first time in my life, I felt safe to come unglued….in his arms…a complete stranger, whom I have been unable to get out of my head.

 

I’m ashamed to say this, but after I wept…I ran.  That night as I lay in my bed, listening to the radio, the most beautiful song came on.  It’s as if the words floated from the artist lips, traveled through the speakers and right into my soul.  I would like to share it with you.

 

India.Arie. “Ready For Love”
Acoustic Soul.
Motown, 2001. CD

 

I am ready for love
Why are you hiding from me?
I'd quickly give my freedom
To be held in your captivity

 

I am ready for love
All of the joy and the pain
And all the time that it takes
Just to stay in your good grace

Lately I've been thinking

Maybe you're not ready for me
Maybe you think I need to learn maturity
They say watch what you ask for

Cause you might receive
But if you ask me tomorrow

I'll say the same thing

 

I am ready for love
Would you please lend me your ear?
I promise I won't complain
I just need you to acknowledge I am here

 

If you give me half a chance

I'll prove this to you
I will be patient, kind, faithful and true
To a man who loves music

A man who loves art
Respect's the spirit world

And thinks with his heart

 

I am ready for love
If you'll take me in your hands
I will learn what you teach
And do the best that I can

 

I am ready for love
Here with an offering of
My voice

My eyes

My soul

My mind

Tell me what is enough

To prove I am ready for love
I am ready

 

              The part that really stands out for me, as if she hijacked my description of my perfect man, is: “To a man who loves music, a man who loves art, respect’s the spirit world and thinks with his heart.” 

 

              I would like to pretend as if I am joking, but…I’m not.  Could I put in a special request for one of those, please?  If it’s not too much to ask, how about sending my mysterious comforter back to me.  I wouldn’t complain!

 

I think I could be, finally, ready for love! Joking, but not!

 

Chapter 6

(Chase Mitchell)

 

 

              The entire weekend was consumed of thoughts of Amber Wallace.  Everything that I have heard about this girl, it just doesn’t compute.  While standing back hidden by a tree, I observed Peanut interact with this gorgeous girl.  It was refreshing to watch someone besides immediate family take to Peanut, a child who is gifted beyond measure.  She is considered weird or a freak by children her own age and by some adults that know us personally. 

 

              I was fourteen when my mother gave birth to Peanut.  I had the privilege of witnessing, Francis Elizabeth Mitchell’s, miraculous arrival into the world and arrive she did.  She screamed and kicked, but as soon as the doctor laid her on mom’s chest all the noise ceased to exist. 

 

              Francis was passed to my pops after a while and the look on his face has been seared into my mind forever.  Love, that’s what was written all over his face.  Love for this little bundle in his arms.  Love, for the woman who brought this little special package into the world.  When he turned his gaze on me, there was love for his first born son…there was so much love for me.

 

              “Son, do you want to hold your sister?”  My dad asked. 

 

              “Pops, I don’t know how to hold a baby.” 

 

              “It’s not hard Chase, it isn’t rocket science!”  My dad chuckled as he placed my sister in my arms. 

 

              I looked down at my little sister and the first thing that came to mind was ‘Peanut’ and that is what I’ve called her ever since that day.

 

              “Hey Peanut, what you doing girl?”  I crooned and my mom started to laugh. 

 

              “Chase, sweetheart, what did you call her?”  My mom asked.

 

              “I called her Peanut.  Hey Peanut, I’m your big brother.  I’ll be taking care of you.” 

 

              Her skin was like dark chocolate.  Her head was a little elongated from my mom pushing her out, hence the name Peanut.  She had the most adorable pouty mouth and when she opened her eyes; her big brown eyes stole my heart.  I knew from that single moment that I would do anything for this little girl.

 

              I recall the first week when she came home, she had crying fits with mom and dad, a lot.  The doctors said that she had colic.  The doctor pulled stats and explained to my parents that a number of newborns experienced this condition.  I would ask my parents if they wanted me to take Peanut in my room for a while to give them a break.  Everyone could tell that they were at their wits end with my little sister.  I’ve never seen my parents so unraveled in my entire life!

 

                My mom wouldn’t take the time to comb her hair, put on makeup or even clean clothes.  Mom would shuffle around the house in her pajamas and a baby blue housecoat that I bought her for Christmas the year before.  My poor dad was supposed to have taken three weeks off of work to help mom and himself get accustomed to having a newborn. 

 

              Towards the end of the first week the pressure of trying to be the perfect supporting husband was too much.  The chaos of being new parents after fourteen years and on top of that, the baby did nothing, but cry all day long.  This drove my dad to his breaking point.  Needless to say, my dad jumped ship and returned to work two weeks and two days early. 

 

              I know my parents had my best interest at heart; I was only fourteen at the time.  I had to go to school, play sports and hang out with my friends.  They didn’t want to disrupt my life any more than what it already had been.  So they didn’t ask for my help with Peanut.  They did not want to burden me with the responsibility of caring for my little sister. 

 

              I understood the reasoning behind trying to keep my life Francis free, but I yearned to help.  It killed me to come home and hear my sister screaming.  It killed me to watch my mother become a fraction of her usual self.  The day my dad deserted my mom for the safe haven of his corner office, a space that was mom and Francis free.  This was the day I decided to take actions into my own hands.  I decided to skip my boxing lessons and come straight home after school.

 

              I found my mom in the kitchen in her blue housecoat asleep at the kitchen table.  I could hear Peanut in my parents’ room, up a flight of stairs, screaming her head off.  I noticed that my mothers’ intentions were to prepare a bottle for my sister because everything was laid out on the kitchen counter.  I quietly placed my backpack by the front door and tiptoed into the kitchen to prepare my sisters bottle.  I kept glancing over at my mom just to make sure that I wasn’t disturbing her sleep.  GOD she needed it!  I took each step one at a time, pausing to make sure that my footfalls didn’t disturb my mother’s much needed sleep.  Once I made it to my parents’ room, I crept over to my sisters’ crib. 

 

              “Hey, Peanut, my baby girl.”

 

              One minute the room was busting at the seams with the high pitched wailing, the next…silence.  The silence was so sudden it actually scared the shit out of me.

 

              “Peanut?”

 

              I gently picked her up and she actually smiled at me.  The heavy burden that had been weighing me down this past week was suddenly no more.  I was looking down at my sister lying quietly in my arms, besides the little sporadic intakes of air from crying to long, she seemed to be doing fine.  The sporadic intake of air was her bodies’ way of trying to regulate its breathing from hours of crying.  I found myself gently swaying her and it all felt so natural to me. 

             

              “Don’t worry; your big brother is here now.  I got you; you don’t have to cry no more.”  I whisper to her.  “I love you, yes I do.” 

 

              I continue to whisper and she stares at me as if my voice mesmerizes her.  I gather up all the babies’ necessities and place them in her bag.  I throw the bag over my shoulder and hold Peanut close to my body.  With my free hand I also grab hold of her baby tub.  Through all of this moving around, Peanuts snug as a bug, she is content and very observant to be so young. 

 

              It’s as if she knew I had nothing, but good intentions.  She knew that I would take care of her, I would protect her.  I silently, stealthily maneuvered my way down the stairs to my bedroom and closed the door behind me.  The first thing that I do is lay Peanut down on my king size bed.  She doesn’t cry, but small whimpers of protest, of disturbing her safe haven in my arms did present themselves. 

 

              “Now listen sweetie, I have to put you down for a few minute, Okay?”  She quiets and looks at me as if she actually understood the words I was speaking. 

 

              “I need to get you clean and feed you.  Can you work with me?” 

 

              She kicked her little legs and moved her arms in a jerky motion as if giving me permission to proceed.  I arranged everything in my room for easy access.  I went into the restroom to fill the baby bath with water and laid out the towel to dry her off after the bath.  I checked the bath water twice just to make sure it wasn’t too hot or too cold.  I gently place my sister in the little bath.  I had to chuckle at her reaction to the bath.  I would describe her reaction as a deer caught in headlights, her whole body went rigid.  Her legs and arms locked up and she took in a long drawn out gulp of air.

 

              “It’s okay; I need to get you clean.  You smell like spoiled milk sweetheart.  Once I’m done you’ll feel better.”  I talked to her throughout the entire bath, throughout the drying off process, and the redressing.  I propped my pillows against my headboard and turned my television on, but turned the volume down low enough that it wouldn’t bother Peanut if she fell asleep, but just enough volume where I could hear it. 

 

              I talked to her while she greedily gulped down her bottle.  I talked while I burped her.  I hummed and gently rocked her until she fell asleep.  I looked down at this sleeping child on my chest and felt an overpowering sense of pride, joy, and protectiveness.  More than any of the other emotions present, the emotion that overpowered my senses the most was, pure love.  Mom found us both asleep in my bed two hours later.  I was curled up my side in the fetal position facing my little sister.  Peanut was laying on her side, sucking her binky, facing me.  My right arm encircled her, creating a tight cocoon of protection around her.  Mom rocks my shoulder and whispers.

 

              “Chase, what are you doing home?”

 

              “Sleeping.”  Was my smartass remark.

 

              “Chase, I can see that.  You were supposed to be at the gym.  Dad and I told you not to worry about Francis.”

 

              “Mom, no disrespect, but chill!  I’ll make up the training.  Go take a relaxing bath or do your hair.  For GOD sake do something for you, Peanut is fine.”  Mom got this look upon her face and I knew that she was about to be stubborn.

 

              “No, I told you Francis is not your responsibility.  You need to be training and going to school.  You shouldn’t be worrying about your little sister.” 

 

              My mom reached down and picked up my little sister.  She let out a wail that reached out and yanked the strings to my soul.  Mom tried to sway from side to side to comfort Francis, but to no avail.  Mom tried to stuff the binky into her mouth, but my sister screamed and pushed the binky out.  The longer this went on the more frustrated I became.  Each cry, each scream was a dagger to my heart before I realized what I was doing I was yelling at my mother.  I’ve never yelled or disrespected my parents in any way.  But, the words that came out of my mouth rang of the truth. 

 

              “Give her back!  Can’t you see you’re too stressed?  You’re not even you anymore!  All you do is mope around here every day.  You don’t even take the time to comb your fucking hair, mom! You’re too spent and she can sense it!”

 

              Peanut continues to scream.  I didn’t give mom a chance to respond to my little outburst.  I took my sister back and as soon as she was in my arms once again…silence.

 

              “It’s okay; you’re okay now… big brother has you now.” 

 

              From that day forward, I became my sisters’ caregiver.  Mom watched Peanut while I was at school and as soon as I walked through the door Francis was literally thrust upon me.  What normal fourteen year old would want to take care of a child after being in school all day and training at the gym?  What normal fourteen year old will turn down spending time with their friends, to change diapers and hum lullabies to his kid sister?

 

              Well, let’s just say my parents didn’t know me too well.  Mom wouldn’t allow me a minute to catch my breath when I walked into the house.  I had enough time to put my bags down before she would say; “
Here you go, you wanted to be mister big brother
.”  She would say this while thrusting Peanut into my arms.  She would turn on her heels, grab her purse, and leave the house.  She would usually return thirty minutes to an hour before dad arrived from work. 

 

              Wow, big lesson!  I get that she was trying to show me that having a baby consumes your time, that you had no time to rest.  She tried her best to wear me down.  This went on for eight months straight.  What mom and dad failed to realize was that Francis was not a burden to me.  She never has and she would never be a burden to me.  I enjoyed taking care of my little sister.  Hell, I thrived at it. 

 

              I came into the house one particular day after a pretty tuff training lesson expecting to be handed my sister.  Actually, I was looking forward to mom vanishing for most of the night.  What I found was totally different.

 

              “Mom, what are you doing in my room?”  I took a second to look around.  I tried to hide the amusement that was slowly creeping across my face.

 

              “Mom, what’s Peanuts crib doing in my room?”  After looking at mom, the amusement that was there seconds ago vanished.

 

              “Well…Chase listen…Dad and I talked this over and we think that Francis should stay in your room.  She won’t sleep in her own room, she won’t sleep with me and daddy anymore.  The only person she doesn’t drive insane with all her crying is you.  The only time she sleeps is when you have her, which by the way is every night.”

 

              I just stand there with a blank face, looking at my mother.  All the reasons she mentioned were actually true.  Maybe, this isn’t a joke.  No…this isn’t a joke at all.  Mom takes in a shaky breath and continues her explanation.

BOOK: Spoiled Secrets
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