I had just laughed with her, just joked with her, just was mad at her for something I couldn’t even remember? Now she was gone.
I sat there beside her in a trance; and then I noticed Yellow’s body lying there on the other side of the living room floor. He had shot himself in the head.
All I could hear in my ears was his voice saying to Momma, “If I can’t have you nobody will.”
It’s funny how I never thought about my father before Momma died. I never saw him before in my life until Momma’s funeral. He was a dark man and his eyes were as red as fire from all the liquor he must have drunk before the funeral. He came in the place hollering for Momma to get up out of the casket. It was a mess.
I couldn’t believe it. Here it was, my mother had just been murdered, my grandparents and aunts and uncles were arguing about who was gonna take care of me, and to top it all off, here came this fool in the place tripping! I hated that day.
After putting on a show down at Momma’s casket, my father turned around to me, bent down to eye level, and said, “Little Sophia,” calling me my momma’s name. He picked me up and hugged me, and whispered in my ear, “Don’t be like yo’ momma.” He kissed my cheek, put me down, and walked out of church.
He was never to be seen or heard from by me again.
The drive from the burial site was quiet. I sat in the back seat, slumped into the window with my arm against the glass, covering my face. I still couldn’t believe Momma was gone. Grandpa was driving and Grandma sat on the passenger’s side silently, with the radio on the gospel music channel. I uncovered my face for a second and glanced at them. I knew Grandma and Grandpa were dealing with the loss just like I was; after all, it was their baby girl. Grandpa was holding Grandma’s hand and massaging it.
None of us said a word in the car. We just listened to the radio playing “Moving Forward” by Israel Houghton. I felt like going somewhere and crawling into a corner and disappearing. I didn’t feel like being bothered with all the relatives and friends who would be pulling up to my grandparents’ house shortly after we did. I was still in shock after seeing and finding Momma lying on the floor. My heart was broken.
The car stopped and I looked over at the big white house and its beautiful wraparound porch. “136 Anna Street,” I said.
“Hum? You say somethin’, baby?” Grandma asked.
I didn’t answer. I just sat in the car and thought about what my father said to me at the funeral. Don’t be like yo’ momma. I said aloud, “Don’t be like yo’ father.” I continued to sit in the car well after I watched Grandma and Grandpa vanish into the house.
Chapter 3
The Invitation
“Reese, honey, you will settle in here just fine,” my grandma said, trying to make me comfortable. She rubbed my back while she talked. She was sure to assure me that everything would be all right, but at the time I couldn’t imagine it ever would.
The first few months after the funeral were the hardest for me. I could still see Momma and still hear her voice. I could even smell her perfume. I was lost.
I didn’t want anyone telling me that “things will get better,” “you will be okay,” “sometimes in life . . .” or “well, God makes a decision to take some home.” All of that, those words, were for the birds as far as I was concerned. My momma was gone and nobody, I meant nobody, could take her place. Even with her lacks, flaws, and mistakes she was still mine and nobody could tell me to move on.
Yellow had taken the one person I needed here, the one person I wanted to make things better for when I got older, the one person who believed in me.
My heart was bitter and I was mean to everyone who tried to say a kind word to me. One day my grandma got tired of it.
“Reese, how you doin’ today?” she asked me.
I had seen her coming in the bedroom before she said anything. I hurried and sat up on the bed and put my magazine down with an attitude. I didn’t feel like talking to her. I couldn’t understand why she just didn’t get the fact that I wanted to be left alone.
“Now, Reese, we know you goin’ through a lot with Sophia gone, but, baby, we need you to get it together. I sympathize with you and I understand how you feel.” She touched my shoulder.
“She was my child.” She began to cry. “Now, baby, it’s time for you to get focused back in school. It’s been five months since your mother’s been gone and . . .”
I heard nothing else she said. What do you mean five months? I was with my momma my whole life and five months ain’t long enough for me to mourn. Old lady, you better go ’head.
“You know yo’ momma would want you to. You can’t sit around here and die with her, Reese.” She lifted my chin to look at her and tears were forming in my eyes. I heard what she was saying.
“You said yo’ momma spoke to God last, Reese. I want you to understand what that meant. Before she went on she asked for forgiveness, baby. That means she is numbered among the saints.”
I smiled a little, thinking of her sitting in heaven.
“I need you to know that your mother would want you to continue yo’ life. Don’t lose it at an early age. Your momma’s in a better place.” She smiled, kissed my cheek, and left my bedroom, humming.
I sat there for a while, thinking; then I realized that I had to go on. I did believe that Jesus was real and that Momma was in good hands. I got up off my bed, shut the door, and went back over to my bed. I got down on my knees, folded my hands, and began to pray.
“Jesus?” I opened my eyes and looked at my pink wall that Grandpa painted for me when I moved in. It felt funny praying and talking to Him, but it felt real. There was this presence that came in my room, as if someone were standing behind me. I closed my eyes again. “Jesus, hi, um, I need you. I’m only eleven and a half, but my mother died and I need your help.” The more I spoke to Him, the more comfortable I was.
“Jesus, I don’t know what to do without my momma. Can you help me?”
I began to cry, but at the same time I felt this pressure leave me. A comfort came that allowed me to understand I would be okay as long as I continued to hold tight to Jesus. I trusted Him.
I stayed in my room the rest of the evening, getting prepared to go back to school the next day with a fresh outlook. I had decided the most important thing for me to do was succeed in school. If I wanted a better life, if I wanted my life to be different from my mother’s, I knew I had to do some different things.
After I got my clothes ready and slicked my hair back into a ponytail with a pound of Ampro styling gel, I took my bath, got in bed, and decided to talk to Him one more time before turning in. This time I spoke while I was in the bed and I stared at the ceiling.
“Okay, Jesus, I am swearing to you that I am yours. My focus from this day forward will be you and my schoolwork. I am only yours and I won’t have sex until I am married. That way I won’t get a horrible man.” Then I whispered, “Like Momma.” I closed my eyes and went to sleep.
I’d kept my promise to Jesus and studied hard the next three years to maintain a 4.0 going into my freshman year in high school. Summer break had started and I was ready for the time off. Life for me was pretty good. I was on the honor roll, I played volleyball, where I was the most valuable player, and I was very popular. I didn’t have a worry in the world heading to high school at the end of the summer. I had made plenty of friends. I was a typical teenager. My grandparents made sure I had every pair of tennis shoes I could have imagined, along with designer clothing.
“Reese, now, baby, I think today somethin’ special is gonna happen to you,” my grandma said.
I looked up at Grandma driving the car and admired her beauty. I loved her so much. She was a light-skinned woman with long, wavy black and gray hair. I smiled and remembered when it was all jet black and realized she was getting older. I thought how much Momma looked like her with the hair and the flawless skin, distinctive bone structure, and full lips they both had. I laughed to myself.
