“Damn!” I shouted because I didn’t know what to do. I paced back and forth across the floor trying to figure out where she’d gone and where she could be. It wasn’t uncommon for my mother to disappear for several days at a time. Especially when we lived with my Grandmother Rubylee and my Aunt Estelle. I really didn’t care about her disappearing then because I knew that either Aunt Estelle or Grandmother Rubylee would be around if I needed them. Now our lives were much different, and I had no choice but to worry about where Justine was. I was driving myself crazy trying to figure out what I should do. I finally decided that there wasn’t anything I could do. I could only hope that in my hour of need, my mother wouldn’t leave me hanging. I could only hope that by some miracle she’d manage to keep a roof over our heads.
six
When I woke up the following day, I was hoping to discover Justine had come home during the night. To my horror, she hadn’t. I swallowed hard and tried not to panic. It was clear that she wasn’t going to make it back home. I held on to hope that she’d be home by the time I returned from school, but in the back of my mind and deep in my heart I knew the chances of her returning were slim to none.
I walked over to the bed and got down on my knees. I peeked beneath the mattress and removed a small box filled with photographs. I opened the box and pulled out the first one, which was taken when I was about six years old. My Aunt Estelle took the photo. In the picture I was wearing my favorite blue dress. My hair was combed and braided beautifully. It was Easter Sunday and I was holding a stuffed bunny rabbit and smiling as hard as I could. I remember being so happy that day. It was one of the rare times that everyone was happy. I pulled out another photo of my Grandmother Rubylee and me. I was nine years old in this photo, which was taken at Rainbow Beach. My skin was so brown because I’d been out in the sun all day, and I had brown sand on my legs up to my knees. I was always pretending that my daddy lived in a real castle somewhere very far away and he was waiting for me to come and visit him. When my mother came over to see it, I told her that I thought my daddy lived in a castle like the one I was building. She laughed and said that I had been out in the sun too long and was becoming delusional. She didn’t like to talk about anyone being my father. She always told me that she was both my mother and my father.
The final photo was taken at my eighth-grade graduation. I was standing in my blue and silver cap and grown. I’d graduated at the top of the class. I was a straight 4.0 student. I never missed a day of school, did all of my homework and studied hard because I wanted to prove to everyone that I was worth something. I wanted to feel validated in some way. I was so happy that day because I’d made everyone proud of me. It was one of the few times that I can remember where I felt good about myself. That day was perfect, well, at least as perfect as it could have been. Rubylee and my Aunt Estelle were there, but my mother wasn’t. Rubylee insisted that she not show up and ruin my day. At the time of my graduation, my mother was in rehab for drug addiction. I remember wanting to do everything that I could to help her stay healthy, but my mother just kept getting into trouble. It was like trouble followed her as if it were a gray storm cloud on a mission to make her as miserable as possible. I didn’t work nearly as hard back then. I thought good grades would somehow not only validate me but also motivate my mother to be more supportive and proud of me, but she didn’t care at all. I figured, if she didn’t care then why should I?
I put the box away because it was depressing me to look through it. I placed it in a bag with my other belongings and left everything sitting on my sofa. I got dressed and headed off to school, even though I really didn’t want to be there. But in my mind, it was better than sitting around the apartment worrying myself into sickness. In many ways, school was where I escaped from my reality.
I didn’t go directly home after school because I was afraid to. I spent an hour hanging around the basketball court at the park watching shirtless boys shoot baskets. It was cool for a while, but then a gang of girls who were there started making fun of me because of my bad skin and damaged hair, so I left. As I walked home I began to think. If my mother hadn’t come home to pay the rent then I knew I’d have to leave, but I didn’t know where I’d go. As I approached my building, I saw Toya sitting on the stoop with Junior’s father. I was happy to see her, so I rushed up the street calling her name.
“Toya!” I shouted out. Toya gave me a nasty look that made me drop the smile from my face.
“What’s going on, wench?”
“Excuse you?” I snapped at her.
“Give me a minute to deal with her,” she said to her boyfriend. He glanced at me with judgmental eyes before stepping away to sit in his car, which was parked in the vacant lot near the building.
“Why did you leave me hanging like that?” Toya asked. Her voice was edgy and full of confrontation.
“Toya, I got scared. I didn’t know what to do. The police were arresting you. You were yelling and hollering at them. What was I supposed to do?”
“You were supposed to have my back!” Toya pushed my shoulder and I backed up. She wanted to fight me. I could see it in her eyes.
“Toya, look. We just have a big misunderstanding here,” I said, trying to calm her down. Other people who were just hanging out on the block started paying attention to our conflict. If we kept up our loud argument, it wouldn’t be long before a crowd would form and encourage us to knuckle-up our fists and beat each other senseless for their entertainment.
“No, there is no misunderstanding. All I know is that I should kick your ass for what you did. Because of you, the department of family services took Junior away from me.”
“They took Junior from you?” I was surprised by that.
“Yeah, and it’s your entire fault,” she said, absolutely convinced of her reasoning.
“How is that my fault? I told you not to bring that boy in the first place.”
“I called you, Keysha, because I wanted you to come and get him for me. I didn’t care about going to jail because I knew I’d get out. But I didn’t want Junior to go with me. Instead of helping me, you ran your scary ass out the door.”
“You know what—” I stopped backing away from her and stood my ground “—that is not my fault. I told you that if something went down and we needed to get away, Junior would be a problem. You should have thought about the consequences before taking him along with us. Plus, why are you always blaming other people when things don’t go right for you?”
“No. That’s not the way I see it.” Toya pushed me hard and I pushed her hard back. “Everything that went wrong is your fault. We would have gotten out of there quicker had you not been lollygagging for thirty minutes with that salesgirl.”
“Fight!” I heard someone on the street yell out. Before I knew it there were people gathering to watch the outcome of our conflict.
“Toya, let’s not do this,” I pleaded with her. “We’ve been friends far too long.”
“No, I’m about to open up a can of whup ass on you.” Toya reached into a back pocket and pulled out the straight razor she’d shown me a few days earlier. I quickly backed up because I didn’t want to end up with a facial scar like my mother’s friend Simon. She opened it up and swung it at me but I was too far away from her.
“It wasn’t my fault!” I shouted at her, hoping to get her to see my point of view. “Why are you always starting fights?” I asked but didn’t get a response. I quickly scanned the ground in search of a weapon of my own but didn’t find one.
“Come on, Keysha, you can’t run. It’s about to go down,” she taunted me. I was a nervous wreck. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t turn and run because there was a crowd of people surrounding us; I certainly didn’t want to step forward and risk getting split open by a razor.
“Toya, please,” I pleaded with her, but she