“Because you wanted a baby with Ronnie but you couldn’t get pregnant,” she snarled back at me.
“That’s not true and you know it,” I shouted back to her as she swung at me again. That time she almost got me on the neck. The circle of people surrounding us was getting tighter, and I had absolutely nowhere to go.
“If you want to fight then fight me fairly,” I said, wanting her to put the razor down. She didn’t answer me. We just kept circling each other cautiously, like two angry lions looking for the right moment to strike. She was much closer to me now and swung at me again. I held my hand up to protect my face. The flesh between my thumb and first finger got nicked by the edge of the razor.
“Damn it!” I shouted out as I made a fist to apply pressure in hopes of stopping the bleeding.
“Toya, this is crazy,” I said. My voice was shaking with fear. “You’ve got drama in your life and so do I. I don’t have a place to live. The landlord put an eviction notice on my door and today was the last day to pay rent or be put out.” Toya suddenly stopped.
“Is that the reason why a strange woman is around asking all types of questions about you and is in your house going through your stuff?” I’d finally gotten through to her.
“What are you talking about? What woman?”
“It serves you right to be put out of the building, because your mother isn’t anything but a whore, anyway. She hasn’t paid rent because she’s in jail. I saw her locked up when I was in jail last night.”
“I’m going to give you a pass on that comment about my mother being a whore.”
“Y’all are out here faking,” I heard someone from the crowd say. It wasn’t long before people started moving away from us.
“Well, it’s true. That’s why you haven’t seen her.” I didn’t want to believe Toya. I didn’t want to believe that my mother had gotten into trouble yet again and left me out in the world to make it on my own. Now that the crowd was gone, I rushed past Toya and into the building. I walked down to the apartment door and found it open. I stepped inside and saw a woman dressed in a black business suit.
“Are you Keysha?” the woman asked but then noticed my bleeding hand. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Who are you and how did you get in here?”
“My name is Maggie. The landlord let me in. I work with the Department of Children and Family Services.” There was a long pause as I tried to understand what was going on.
“Your hand is bleeding pretty badly. You should let me take a look at it.”
“I’m okay,” I said. “Why are you here?”
“Your mother has run into some legal problems and she knew you’d need help. So that’s why I’m here, to help.”
“Help me do what?” I asked.
“Find a home,” she said. I suddenly felt dizzy and light-headed.
“Find a home? It’s true, I’m homeless now?” I asked, feeling anxiety, fear and emotional stress attack me all at once.
“There is a group home for teens in your situation that I can place you in.”
“A group home.” I repeated what she’d said as my vision became gray and blurry. I felt as if my legs could no longer support my weight. I felt them buckling beneath me.
“Sweetie, you’re wobbling. Let me take a look at the cut on your hand.” I tried to move away from her. I wanted to turn and run out the door, but I fainted instead.
seven
When I regained consciousness, I felt someone placing a cold washcloth around my face and neck.
“Mom, what happened?” I asked.
“You fainted. Your mom isn’t here,” said Maggie. “And your hand has been cut pretty badly. I called for an ambulance.”
“I don’t need an ambulance,” I said as I tried to sit up, but Maggie placed her hands on my shoulders and held me down. She was a short, bony woman but strong enough to hold me down.
“You need to relax,” Maggie reiterated. I didn’t feel like struggling with her so I relaxed. I studied her features. She had caramel skin with dark brown freckles around her nose and cheekbones. She was attractive but I could tell by the deep lines beneath her eyes that she’d seen her fair share of heartache, drama and pain.
“Why is everything falling apart?” I started crying uncontrollably. I wanted Maggie to embrace me and tell me that it was going to be okay but she didn’t. I wanted to feel safe, loved and wanted, but all I felt was alone.
When the paramedics arrived, they stitched up the deep cut on my hand and offered to take me to the hospital.
“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” I said.
“Honey, you really need to have a doctor look at your hand,” said Maggie, who seemed to be concerned about me.
“I’m fine,” I said as I looked at the bandage on my hand. “See, the bleeding has stopped.”
“Will the stitches hold until I can get her to a private doctor?” Maggie asked one of the paramedics.
“Yes,” answered one of the men as he began putting away his medical supplies. “But make sure she sees a doctor soon. Don’t wait more than one or two days.”
“Okay,” said Maggie. She thanked them as they walked out of the apartment and down the hall.
Once the paramedics left, Maggie once again asked me how I got cut.
“What do you care?” I snapped at her.
“Okay, I’m just trying to help.”
“You don’t really want to help me. You’re just doing a job,” I said as I inspected the bandage around my thumb. She then showed me all of her credentials to prove who she was.
“You can’t stay here,” Maggie informed me.
“No shit, Sherlock,” I said. “I suppose this means you want me to gather up my bags and go with you.” Maggie didn’t say anything; she just looked at me. I read her facial expression and deduced that was exactly what she wanted me to do. I walked around the room and gathered up my belongings. I took one last look around the apartment to make sure that I hadn’t forgotten anything I wanted.
“What about the television?” Maggie asked. “Do you want to take it?”
“No, it barely works,” I answered as I walked out the door. When I stepped out onto the stoop of the building, I thought for sure someone would approach me and ask if I was okay. I mean, I figured that they had to have seen the ambulance and should’ve known that it was for me. No one looked in my direction or even thought enough about my well-being to ask me what was going on. Toya wasn’t around, and I assumed that after she’d cut me, she got in the car with her boyfriend and drove away in case the police were called.
“That’s my car over there.” Maggie pointed to an emerald-green Oldsmobile. She hit the remote locks and the trunk of the car opened up.
“You can place your bags in the trunk,” she said as she moved past me. I took a deep breath and then headed toward her car and my unknown future.
* * *
As I drove away with Maggie, I just stared out the car window and didn’t say a word. I was angry at everything and with everyone. I was already making plans to run away from the group home. I’d rather take my chances living on the street as opposed to being forced to go into some