That Girl Is Poison (29 page)

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Authors: Tia Hines

BOOK: That Girl Is Poison
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“I don't understand. You're supposed to be dead, but you're alive. You're here. I see you here!”
Something came over me that I couldn't control. It was like a backed-up current that released through my eyes and nose. I couldn't control it. I became very emotional. My uncle being in my life meant a lot to me, and to know that he was alive all this time was giving me a crazy feeling.
My mind was racing.
Desire, your Uncle Frank is dead. There is no funeral either because I don't have money. You are not going to that boy Greg's funeral. If you can cut school, then you can miss this. Desire, you're a ho. Desire, you are no longer my daughter from this day forth. I disown you. Greg would be disappointed. Miss, your test results came back positive for HIV. Why do you like sleepin' around? You better stay protected. Where's your baby, Desire? When can I meet him? I am your mother, you listen to me.
Before I knew it, I fainted.
 
 
“Desire, Desire!”
I felt a cold cloth on my face, and I jumped up. I looked at my uncle as if he was a ghost. I blinked twice. “Uncle Frank,” I say, mesmerized.
“Yes, Desire. It's me.” He touched me.
“Uncle Frank! It's really you!”
“Yes, Desire. It is.”
“But Auntie Linda told me you were dead. She lied to me. Why'd she lie to me?” I was getting furious, tears streaming down my face.
“Desire, I was dead to you way before that lie.”
“She lied to me! I hate her!”
“No, Desire. You hate yourself. I made her lie to you. I wanted to leave. I couldn't take it anymore. You were disrespecting me left and right. You couldn't even hold a conversation with me. You stopped talking to me. You stopped caring. Why? Desire, I gave you everything, and I protected you, yet you just continued to lie, become more and more out of control. Whenever I tried to talk to you, you didn't have time. You were so caught up in the streets. You think I didn't know about your drinking and smoking? I knew, and I got tired. I was dead to you before Linda made the announcement.”
My uncle was right. I was so caught up in the streets, I cast him away well before Auntie Linda lied and told me he was dead.
“What is that scar on your face?”
“I got stabbed by some girl.”
“What are you getting yourself into? Desire, you are only fifteen. Your birthday is in a few months. You gonna live to see it? Why are you going through all of this drama? Why are you not taking care of yourself? Huh? Where is your son? Have you even been in touch to see how he's doing? Take a look at yourself. Take a good look. You're still young. You have such a long life ahead of you, and you're throwing it all away. These streets have got your mind corrupted. Are you back in school?”
“Yeah, I'm a junior.”
“Have you been going to school?”
“Yes.”
“What else are you doing for yourself?”
I didn't answer.
“You better get yourself together.”
I put my head down.
“Look at me when I'm talking to you.”
I put my head up, ashamed.
“Desire, all you got is you. You've burned bridges with so many people who have tried to help you. And it's hard, I know, because you're a child. I know what you been through, and right now, as God is my witness, I'm hurting for you. My wife Linda, yes, she mistreated you. Her way of disciplining wasn't great, and I wish I could have done more, but I couldn't. I did what I could, but you drained me, Desire. I couldn't bear it anymore. That's part of the reason why I left. The other is because my cancer came out of remission. I was getting too sick. I didn't tell you because you had so many other worries.
“Linda did too, which is part of the reason why she acted the way she did. It hurt her to no longer be able to care for me, and she took it out on you. She shouldn't have, but she did. The blame is not all on her though. You take part in this too. You have to start thinking about you, Desire, and taking care of your responsibilities, and stop letting people run all over you. Get yourself through school, and take care of what's yours. Go get that baby, and do what's right. Do you even know that baby's name, or how old he is?”
It was sad to say, but I didn't have a clue about my son. Not a clue.
“I know you don't know his name because you left him and never looked back. Your auntie got him down there in Greenville. He's doing well, quite well, but you better go get him.”
“Is something wrong?”
“It doesn't have to be anything wrong. He's your child, and he belongs with his mother. I know you may be scared and think you're unable to take care of a baby, but you will manage. Especially if you can survive these streets. Get it together, Desire. You only live once without being able to turn back the hands of time.”
Tears streamed down my face.
“What did I tell you about that crying?”
I smiled in the midst of my tears. I hadn't smiled a happy smile in a long time. Uncle Frank always had a way with words. He could change a mood quick too, good or bad. What he was saying was the truth. He was right. I had to get myself together, get my son, and make a change for good.
Chapter 31
As soon as I got out of that nursing home, I borrowed money from Jen, not telling her what it was for, and I got on the next Greyhound to South Carolina. Now that I knew my son had been staying with my father's family, I was going to get him and bring him home. Yes, I was showing up unannounced.
It took me sixteen hours to get to Greenville, North Carolina by bus. The ride seemed never-ending, but I made it. As soon as I got off the bus, I hopped in a taxi to my Aunt Millie's.
I got the jitters as we approached the house. It'd been a long time since I'd seen my boy, since birth, to be exact. I was hoping my aunt didn't give me any trouble. I just wanted to be cordial, chill a bit, get my son, grab his things, and then go home. It was time.
I rang the doorbell, and before I could take my hand off the bell, my little cousin Earl answered the door. He was smiling from ear to ear. Boy, was he happy to see me.
“Desire,” he joyously yelled, jumping up on my waist.
I tried to back up before he took the leap, but it was too late. Now, he knew his big ass was well over the weight limit to be jumping all over somebody. I was almost on the floor, until he decided to jump off me.
He ran down the hall calling out to his mother. “Mama, Desire her'.”
I followed behind him as he made his way to the kitchen screaming. My aunt gave me this surprised look as I walked in the kitchen, interrupting what looked like a meeting with some nasty, trailer trashy-looking white folks.
“Is this yo' daughtar?”
“Oh nah. She kinfolk. What brings you all the da way down her' from Boston?”
I answered straight to the point. “I came to get my baby.”
My aunt looked across the table at the white lady. I saw that the white lady was holding a little boy. My boy. I could tell from his green eyes.
Oh my baby!
“What?” my aunt exclaimed, surprised.
“I came to take my son home. I wanna take care of him. I'm ready.” I reached across the table. “Can I see him please?”
The white lady handed over him to me.
Oh, he is so big.
I took a good look at him. He's a porker. He's a chubby, handsome, dark-chocolate little porker. I stared at him and almost cried. How did I allow myself to give up on him so easily? He was so precious and innocent. Wow! I had given birth to such a beautiful child! What was I thinking when I left him?
“He's so precious, isn't he?” the white lady asked.
“Yeah, he is!”
“You should see 'im when he tries to run.”
“He can walk?”
My aunt laughed.
“I hope his big ass can walk. He two goin' on three.”
I started calculating in my head.
Damn. It's been that long.
“Okay. Well, I don't have much time. We oughta get goin'.” The lady reached out to take my son back from me.
I pulled away and looked at her like she had two heads. My aunt just stood there and walked away.
“We gotta be goin' now. I'm sorry.” The white lady reached out for me to hand her my child. She looked at my aunt.
With a puzzled look on my face, I looked at her too, unaware of what was actually taking place before I'd walked in the kitchen.
My aunt laughed. “Girl, stop playin' and give dat woman Shyne.”
“Shyne . . . that's his name? His name is Shyne?”
“Dumb heiffa. You didn't even know yo' own boy's name? Hand 'im ova to his new mama.”
She was right. I didn't know his name. Shame on me. But I'll be damned, to hand over my baby to some dirty white lady. Was she buggin'?
“Nooooo, my baby is not going anywhere. How is she his new mama? The adoption went through?”
The lady looked at my aunt. “She doesn't know?”
“I don't know what? So the adoption did go through? I didn't sign any final papers.”
My aunt grabbed her lit cigarette out of the ashtray and took a long drag. That was a dead giveaway that she was trying to pull a fast one.
“Her' you go fuckin' up shit again. Gotdammit, every time I turn 'round you fuckin' up sumtin'!” She reached in her bra and pulled out a knot of money. She reluctantly dropped the stack on the table.
The white lady reached her dirty hand across the ashtray and picked up it. “So the deal's off?” She frowned.
My aunt tapped her foot nervously. “Gimme that baby,” she shouted to me.
“No,” I said, looking at her like she was crazy.
She aggressively reached out for Shyne, and I swung him around so she couldn't get to him. In the midst of the commotion, she bumped into me, knocking me over. As I was falling to the floor, I twisted around so that I landed on my back to prevent from hurting Shyne.
She grabbed Shyne by his waist, to take him out of my hands. “Gimme dis damn boy. You didn't want 'im no way. I been takin' care of dis boy all dis time an' now I'ma gettin' paid fo' 'im.”
“You ain't selling my baby to no white trash.”
I muscled full control of Shyne, got on my feet, and ran through the hallway out the front door. I pushed past my cousins, Jo-Jo and Boog, coming through the screen door.
“Hey, girl, slow down,” Jo-Jo yelled.
I ignored him and kept on going. I had no idea where I was running to, but I kept it moving. I got way up the road, and then noticed that no one was chasing me. I don't think anyone had been chasing me for a while. I can't believe my aunt was trying to sell my baby. What the hell was she thinking?
I looked at Shyne, and he was crying. Poor baby probably was scared. What was I thinking for not wanting him? He was so innocent and cute. And I was so innocent and young.
Do I really want to do this? Yes . . . no . . . no. What am I doing?
I looked at Shyne again.
Yes, I have to. I have to take him home with me. He's my responsibility now.
I wiped the tears from his eyes. “It's okay, mommy's here.”
He continued to cry.
“Shhh, it's okay. I'm here to take care of you.”
It took him a minute to calm down. I thought he was never going to stop crying, but he did. Our second time together and I did a mommy deed. I felt proud.
I had walked about a mile by the time I realized I only had sixteen dollars to my name. My bag that I came with was at my aunt's house. I had planned to try to get some money from her after at least chillin' for a while, but you see that didn't go down as planned. I didn't know what I was going to do.
I can't hitchhike with Shyne; it just ain't safe. And this damn sure ain't like Boston where you can get a cab anywhere or hop on public transportation
.
Maybe I should go knock on the door of the first house I come to and ask for a ride. Hey, what I got to lose?
As I walked along the road, people were driving by beeping their horns, being friendly. Shyne loved it too. He was waving, saying, “Hey,” like he knew all these people.
“Hey car, oooooh car,” Shyne yelled.
I looked at him strangely. I had no idea he could talk and, for that matter, identify things.
“Yeah, that's a car. Can you say
Mommy
?”
“Mommy,” he said clearly with a big smile on his face.
“Yes, I'm your mommy,” I said, excited.
“I wanna get down,” he said.
As fast as the cars were speeding past, I was scared to let Shyne down, but since he was so heavy, I did. I don't know how I held him that long, with his weight.
We walked as I thought about my next moves. I thought back to my conversation with my uncle and with Jen when I got stabbed. I was a fool. I looked down at my son and got all emotional. I left him. I left this precious little boy. What possessed me to do this? What possessed me to . . . oh my God . . . infect people with this thing I got? What was I doing? Then it hit me. I was purposely giving people—guys, women, boys and girls HIV. I did that. I was wrong for that. What was I thinking? I wasn't thinking. Oh God, what have I done?
We walked for about twenty minutes on the road while my mind raced. Out of nowhere, a truck pulled up beside me. I kept walking, ignoring the driver honking his horn. I was not going to repeat another hitchhiking episode, especially not with Shyne in my care.
The driver pulled closer beside me and honked the horn again. “Desire Jones, is dat you? What in the hell you doin' down her'? And why you walkin' all tired wit' that fat boy of yours?”
I looked up to notice my Uncle Juggie. I walked over to his truck.
“Girl, when you get down her'?”
“About an hour ago.”
“You goin' to Millie's house?”
“Well . . . no.”
“Talk to me.”
“I just came from over there. I went to get Shyne, and she was tryin'a sell him or something to these white people and—”
“Say no mo'. I gotcha. She at it again.”
“At what?”
“Nothin'. Just get in. Where you headin'?”
“I was heading back home to Boston.”
“Ha, ha, ha! Well, it wiz gon' take you fo'eva walking. I'll get you an' ya boy a ride back home.”
“I left my bag at her house, and I don't have any money.”
“I gotcha. C'mon.”
I picked Shyne up and got in the truck.
“Hey dere, boy.”
“Hi,
Jud
-
gee
,” Shyne greeted.
I smiled, hearing him talk.
Uncle Juggie put his head down. “Desire, you gon' do right by him?”
“Yes.”
“Are yah sur'?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“A'ight now. I'm trustin' you.”
I nodded my head in agreement.
He put his hand on my shoulder. “Everything gon' be fine. I sees it in ya eyes dat you shole iz determin' ta git dat boy back home witchu.”
I nodded my head in agreement again. He pulled off as I tried to get comfy in his dirt-filled pickup truck. I looked around like,
What happened?
The wheels he had before were way better than this. This truck was beneath him, and talk about bad decoration. He had oil-stained sheets as seat covers, pieces of quilted blankets as floor mats. I wanted to laugh my behind off when I saw pieces of plastic trash bags covering the bullet holes in his windshield.
“An' don't be jealis' of my new truck neitha,” he said, proudly tapping the dashboard.
“Don't worry, Uncle Juggie. I'm not.” I laughed.
“Hey dere, boy.”
“Hi,
Jud
-
gee
.” Shyne smiled.
I looked at Shyne and was no longer scared of what lay ahead for us. I planned to love my son unconditionally, no question. And I vowed to protect him from all harm, with or without help.

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