Vicious Is The Name That They Gave Me: A Philly Story (7 page)

Chapter 8

Ceyanna

              Tori and Kareema came with me to see my cousin Nelly for support and I accepted the gesture. I tried to teach Nelly about the streets and how it’s not good for her.
Well, I tried to.
But Nelly doesn’t listen. My words go in one ear and out the other ear. She is constantly doing things with people she thinks she can trust. I told her, you cannot trust everybody. You are loyal to everybody but that doesn’t mean everybody will be loyal to you.
The street does not work like that. It’s probably the same percentage you can trust, but that number decreases after true colors are shown. Don’t let me get started with her and these niggahs.
It’s a rotation with her. I told her, if you are going to have sex, at least protect yourself.
What did she do? She got pregnant
repeatedly
, like that shit is cute.
I told her keep it up and she is going to catch a disease she would not be able to get rid of. She is seventeen and has been wild since she was young. I mean we grew up with our struggles in our childhood so trying to live and survive by any means is not strange to us. Having only one parent who barely even pays attention to you because they’re too busy trying to get high is not strange to us. Having your other parent in solitude is not strange to us. Having to wear the same sneakers for about six months to a year is not strange to us. Not being able to have what other people had when we were young is not strange to us. Having to pretty much fight to prove we are not punks was a main factor.

              You know how some people that want to change and are willing to? I feel like Nelly can change but does not want to, and I cannot understand why. It seems like she is amused by selling drugs, hanging out with the wrong crowd, robbing people, and I am positive Nelly has used a gun before.
She is just too comfortable with it at times.
Nelly has gotten high, drunk, and will look like she’s been fucking.
You know, that sex smell?
One night she came home at three o’ clock in the morning. I stayed up all night watching TV waiting for her to come home,
because she decides to leave her phone in the house.

“Nelly, where are you coming from?” I asked her while waiting to hear the nonsense she is able to tell me. I can tell she was high.

“Oh me, I just came back from church. I got saved,” She answered.
See, high shit. That’s what someone would say if they were high. Three in the morning, they got saved.

“What church is open this time of the night Nelly?” Why am I even entertaining this shit? We argued on and on that night about her whereabouts
supposedly coming from church. But she’s high and smells like sex.
I am not Nelly’s mother true, but I am the only family she has that cares about her. But I can only do so much for her. At times, I don’t want to help her get out of situations. I didn’t help get in them. She’s my cousin, my family, my blood, and I will always love her. One of these days I will have to let her go. I have to stop cradling her. As long as I answer, she will continue to do things, because she knows I will help her. One of these days I am not going to answer when she calls. I say that every fucking time, but it never works.
I am on my way to go see her. I can talk out of anger as much as I want when it comes to Nelly. I can’t sit back and watch her derail her life, when knowing I am partially to blame because I introduced her to what she is doing.
When I saw that she was getting out of hand I tried to stop her, but it was already too late. So out of shame, I rather come to her defense every time, and then to hear on the news a body was found and they reveal her name.

“Ceyanna, Ceyanna,” Tori called my name. I snapped out of my flashbacks.

“You good?” Kareema asked me.
I’m not but I am going to tell her, yes.

“Yeah,” I lied. I didn’t feel good at all. I didn’t want to be here, but deep down inside I would feel guilty if I turned my back on my cousin. That is what happens when you’ve helped someone out for so long. You get immune to helping them. It’s like an addiction. I wish I was in a dream so I could wake up from it. But there was no way getting from this.
It’s reality. What is wrong with this girl? Lord, please help her.

“Are you sure?” Kareema wanted to know.

“Yup,” I convinced myself I was okay for the moment as we walked into the penitentiary where they held Nelly.

“Hi ladies, how can I help you?” The correctional officer asked.

“Hi, we are here to see Niara Mayson,” I answered. Niara is her government name, Nelly is what we would call her.
We should call her bad ass, because she always getting into something bad.
The correctional officer looked into the computer database to find out where she would be.

“Okay, can all of you fill this form out? I’ll need to see everyone’s identification card,” He instructed graciously and we did what he asked. “She’ll be coming out shortly. You can all have a seat,” He said.

              It did not take long for the guards to bring Nelly out. Not only did Nelly come out, she came with a crowd.

“What’s up, Yanna. Hey Tori. Hey Kareema,” She greeted us all with a hug. We said our greetings back.
Am I the only that is lost? Is she Gotti in here?

“Uh, Nelly, who are all these people?” I said pointing to all the girls.

“Oh, they are with me. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I may just stay in here if things continue the way they’re going,” She joked.
Staying in here? I see Nelly is taking this as a joke. How can someone facing murder charges be okay? Do you see what I mean? She doesn’t care.

“What do you mean staying in here? You’ve been smoking, haven’t you?” Tori asked her.

“Well, let’s see. I was smoking on Monday, weed on Tuesday, weed on Wednesday, weed on Thursday, weed on Friday, weed on Saturday, and weed on Sunday. Yeah, I’ve been smoking,” she laughed.
How is she even allowed to get weed in here? The next charge she is going to face is contraband. I can already see it happening.
Now is not the time to be giggling and laughing. This is not a reunion. This is not some celebration ceremony. This is supposed to be a visit to help her get out of here, but she doesn’t even want to leave. If it were up to me, I would tell them to let her sorry ass rot in here since she thinks this is a fucking playground.

Nelly’s perfection is blinded by her immoral actions. It’s by her juvenile behavior. Now you can’t see that once beautiful humble girl she once used to be. It’s locked away in the closet because the mischievous spirit has taken over her five foot, honey brown skin, her glowing model face accompanied by her dimples every time she laughs or smiles. It has taken over her long jet black hair with blond highlights she would get done every two weeks, now puts it up in a bun. It has taken over her light coffee eyes, no mascara and all natural. It has taken over. Every time I see her I get disappointed and hate myself for it. This is not how her life should be.
Is she lost because of me or because this is where she wants to be in her life? She has no education, no legit job, and no life steady goals.
If she keeps going this route, she is not going to last. I fucked up, but it’s not like I’m not trying to help her.
I’m out of all options. I really don’t know what to do. I am torn.

“Nelly, you stupid,” Kareema added laughing along with Tori. They were not helping by laughing with her.
I should have come by myself.
I gave them a look. They understood and stopped laughing.

“Can you be serious for a minute Nelly? You are in deep shit right now. And you’re carrying on like you could care less. Let me know, so I can take my ass back home,” I told her. She lifted her head. “What if they find you guilty? Would you smoke weed with the judge and say ‘Hey, good looking?’ What if they keep your ass in here for life? Are you going to have a party every day? You just don’t care anymore right, so why should I?” I yelled at her. She looked at me as if I lost my mind. I have to always be the bigger person with Nelly. She would just let shit happen.

“Dag, Ceyanna, I was just playing,” She tried to sound innocent.
The bitch was guilty before she got in here. She was guilty from when she decided not to change her life. Am I to blame? I can’t keep blaming myself for her negligence.

“Now is not the time to be playing,” I warned her.

“My bad. I just didn’t want to come out looking all depressed and shit. I am trying to be positive about this,” She claimed.
She’s playing, right?
I stood up to her face. She is not going to pull the “I am doing everything I can do,” card.
We are not doing this today.

“So you’re trying to be positive? How, by smoking every day? I’m not going to help you, Nelly, if you don’t want to help yourself. If you don’t give a fuck about your life, then neither will I. I’m tired of babying you. You’re seventeen and it’s about time to start to grow the hell up,” I said walking away from them.

“Ceyanna wait,” Tori called. I turned around.

“Don’t, leave me alone. You can keep talking with her and her crew. Keep laughing some more with her, I’m going outside. Let me know when you’re ready to go. I can’t do this anymore,” I tried to hold back my tears, but I couldn’t. I walked outside.

“Don’t cry Ceyanna. It’s going to be okay,” Tori tried to console. It’s too late. The damage is already done. The damage has already been nested into her life. The damage is already a factor and it’s the damage I created. I sat with my head between my legs.

              I could hear in the background of the other women talking with their families and children. I could hear the little kids playing. In the back of my mind I hope these kids don’t go through what Nelly went through and end up in here. I hope they do not get caught up in drugs, addiction, substance abuse, having sex and in a clinic to have an abortion, and obtaining a criminal record at a young age because they decided to hang with the wrong group of people.
That shit is not fun.
I don’t know what got into Nelly’s head. If I could brain wash her I swear I would. But she’s already mentally disturbed. I know I am not perfect. I never said I was. I keep kicking myself because had I shown her a different route we would not be visiting her in prison. We would be getting her ready for her senior prom. We would be getting her to learn how to drive. She would be working part time and being around good people. My pain was too strong to hold my tears back. Every day I worried if Nelly would come home. At part of me feels like she should be in here because at least I’ll know she won’t be out on the street and a part of me wants her to come home. It would be a blessing for her to come in the house and say See, look Ceyanna, I passed all my classes. Ceyanna, I am going to this college and this is the major I am taking. Look Ceyanna I got my driver’s license or even come to me for advice, ask me about what to do because she got her period, or ask me about boys because she has a crush. If those words were to ever come out of Nelly’s mouth, I would feel a weight lifting off my shoulder. But because she keeps going down in life, I will always feel this weight.

“Hey,” Nelly spoke to me. I still had my head down. I did not have to accept all the phone charges. I did not have to travel three hours out of my day to a middle of nowhere in New York. I did not have to do any of those things. I could have gone about my business. Despite everything Nelly ever did, I still had her back.
Deep down, I am to blame because I showed her this life.
I came because I had her back. Tori walked away so we could talk. “Ceyanna, I am sorry. You did everything for me. You tried to tell me but I didn’t want to listen. I wanted to do what I wanted to do. The way I act is not acceptable,” She paused.
If she knows it’s not acceptable, then why does she continue to do it? Why keep at it then? Why not stop? What will it take for you to stop? What will it take for you to see God is sparing your life for a reason? It’s not so you can keep doing the same shit.
She gives me this speech every time. The only thing that is different is the time, place, and day of the week, but always the same ending. She keeps doing it and I keep helping her.
That’s what family is for, right? That’s what family is for when you only have one relative living and all the others are either dead, strung out on drugs, or in jail. Right?
Not every time, can I be there. What is she going to do when I can’t help her? I truly believe she is careless because she knows I will always have her back.

“Alright,” I still chose not to give her any eye contact as my tears dried up. Why should she see that I have sympathy for her? Why should she see that after everything she could possibly do I still care a hundred percent? Why should she see that it is killing me she is in this predicament? Why should she see that I am beating myself over her life choices? Why should she see any of it?

“Ceyanna, look at me please?” She begged me. I looked up at her honey brown complexion that blends with her coffee eyes. On the outside she still looks like my little cousin I would brag about to everyone, but on the inside of her she’s a devil advocate. I can’t even see an angel anymore. I see a distraught individual that I created.
So I can’t even be mad at her. I did this.

“What,” I said softly but she could still hear the ignorance in my voice. I was in no way trying to hide it. I am just tired of yelling at her.