Lovely Vines
Tondria Leatrice
Copyright © 2020 Tondria Leatrice
All rights reserved
First Edition
Fulton Books, Inc.
Meadville, PA
Published by Fulton Books 2020
ISBN 978-1-64654-485-1 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-64654-486-8 (digital)
Printed in the United States of America
Table of Contents
Queen Is My Street and Stage Name
To my lovely mother, Ada Thomas.
I love you with all my heart, and I remember you said, “And you better finish that book,” and I did it for you.
May God continue to bless your family with your beautiful memories. I know you are missed by many, and this void we have can never be replaced.
We love you, Ma.
In loving memory of Vernada and Zola.
Acknowledgments
I acknowledge the dominant system that took a part of me in three ways, leaving my mind wandering and acknowledging I couldn’t do anything at all. I learned the power of patience through this system and a mother’s emptiness to the fullest, not being able to give a hug through a call. The power of lonely nights without a call can break the most influential person, not knowing what’s going on behind the walls that I acknowledge took three from me.
I also acknowledge the power of love for the child can turn into prayers which led me to write this book in those long three years, with only three people telling me that I would not fall.
I acknowledge the phone calls from my mother and father telling me everything was gonna be okay and my sister Melissa Shaw for telling to my face, “I see the pain through the fake smile,” and I want to acknowledge them for knowing a mother’s pain.
I also acknowledge my little brothers Richard, Calvin, Dakar, and Eli and my uncles Freddy, Anthony, Raymond, and Bill for being some of the realest men I know and teaching me the value of a man. I give thanks to my best friend Theo for listening to me vent, reading my ideas, telling me I could do it, and staying true through it all.
Part 1
Who Am I
Chapter 1
Samaya
Saria Is My Stage Name
“Run, Samaya, run!” Queen shouted as they ducked behind the car. Samaya saw the shadows getting closer and moving past swiftly, and heard the whistle sounds go past her ears as the shadows disappeared. Bang, bang, bang. “Get down, Samaya!” Queen screamed again.
The shooters jumped in the car speeding off, shooting, and each time they shot, a window shattered right next to her face.
Every time the disco lights on the ceiling glared in her face, she thought about that night, seeing the flare from the gunfire.
When