Ch. 32

In the story 'Sonny's Blues' one of the characters said something that stuck with me...he said, "I wish I could be like Mama & say the Lord's will be done, but I don't know it seems to me that trouble is the one thing that never does get stopped & I don't know what good it does to blame it on the the Lord. But maybe it does some good if you believe it." I think that's self-explanatory. I messed up and I have no one to blame, but myself.
-Z.D.

I post the update to my blog sitting my phone on the table. It's Christmas day and after going to church as a family, we came back to my Aunt Rama's house to eat. I hadn't stepped foot in a church in my entire life. Maybe a mosque, but even then that was a long time ago. I couldn't explain how I felt after church. I was still trying to process it. Maybe religion is what I need in my life right now.

I honestly wasn't in the holiday spirit. I was just ready to exchange gifts then be on my way, so I can be by myself. When I turn looking around the full, busy room I spot my sisters all talking to each other with the exception of my little sister, Zina. She's 12, so she's probably with kids her age. The rest of my sisters were in high school with the exception of Ziya.

Speaking of Ziya, she was the only one unwilling to wear African traditional dress. Sometimes I wonder if she's ashamed to be African... She'll never wear traditional dress and she never speaks Wolof anymore to point she barely knows it. She rather speak English or French. She'll make excuses on why she can't speak to my mother in Arabic. It's sad actually that she has assimilated to American culture so much that she can't be proud of where she's originally from.

When 4 of my 6 sisters make there way towards me, I look at them suspiciously. There's Adiva who's 17 and a senior in high school. She was my mini me. Then there's Zemira and Sapphira who are 16 and twins. They're so different in looks and personality you would never even know they're twins. Then there's Safiya who's 14 and a freshman in high school. All of them were my babies. I had to grow up fast as hell in order to take care of them. You would've thought they came from my cooch all that I had to do for them.

Safiya sits on my lap wrapping her arm around my shoulder. "What do y'all want?" I ask stroking her hair that's in a sleek bun. I look from left to right as they all have their hands behind their backs as they stand in front of me. "Y'all done got thick. What is in the food nowadays?" I say pinching Sapphira's thigh then moving Zemira to the side a little to look at her butt. "I hope y'all not having sex-" Adiva starts coughing with a laugh cutting me off.

"Seriously, Zi. It's called getting older and filling out. We're getting our grown woman bodies," Zemira says putting a hand on her hip poking it out.

"But you're not grown women," I say mocking her voice making them laugh. "What y'all want? Why are y'all acting so weird? If you want money, don't even think about it. I already spent money on your Christmas gifts and-"

I stop mid-sentence when they all pull things from behind their backs. Zemira has a gift box wrapped in red, shiny paper, Sapphira and Adiva both have gold gift bags, and Safiya hands me an envelope. "Joyeux Noël!" They say in French all in unison.

"Merci beaucoup," I say taking all of the things putting them on the table. "Where did you guys get money to buy me gifts? You never get me gifts."

"We do have jobs now," Adiva says motioning towards herself then Zemira and Sapphira. "Now, it ain't all that, but it's something. We just want to thank you for everything you do. For paying for our private school tuition, so we get a better education and helping Mom out. We know it's a lot on your plate and you didn't ask for this responsibility, but you handle it with no complaints. Mom puts a lot on you and it's not fair."

I smile thinking about the conversation I need to have with my mother later. "Thank you. I just want you guys to know that no matter what, I'm always gonna be there for you. Even if something happens, don't let Mom tell you otherwise. It's about her more than you guys."

"Group hug!" Zemira says opening her arms. They all enclose me in a hug tightly. I sigh smiling to myself. Once they pull away, Safiya gets up from my lap. They walk away and I open the envelope first reading the card that has money in it. The crazy part is there in high school in they can see and appreciate what I do for them, but my own Mother can't. She has never once said thank you or acknowledged what I do. It's always just been expected of me like it's my duty. Like I'm their mother when she is.

I open the other gifts then I decide to take them out to my car to put away. I put them in my trunk then take this chance to change shoes. I take off my heels changing into some more comfortable shoes. I close my trunk back hitting the lock button on my key fob making my way back towards the house. When I hear my name being called I look in that direction to see a male in the distance that I realize is Josiah. I saw him earlier at church, but we greeted each other and that was about it. I approach him saying, "What are you doing out here? Aren't you cold?" Before coming out here, I put a coat on over my outfit. I look at him as he shakes his head.

"This is nothing compared to the U.K." He pats the spot next to him, so I sit. "You okay?" He asks looking at me with concern as I just shrug.

"I'm fine. Nobody should be concerned about me because everything was my fault."

"Just making sure. I know breakups can be hard."

I nod my head saying, "I'm good. I was just finally starting to embrace being in a relationship." I pause then realize something. "Shit, D'Anthony was supposed to be my date to this New Years Eve party."

"Go by yourself," Josiah suggests.

"I can't. You have to have a date. They only sell the tickets in twos. Either come with an actual date or bring a friend."

"What about taking Sahara since she's single now too," he suggests next.

"I would, but she's not going."

I sigh then he says, "I mean, I can go with you. It's not a problem for me. Two friends, ya know?"

"You would do that? It's a Howard event and I don't want you to feel out of place since you won't know anyone besides me."

He shrugs then says, "Why not? You're my mandem, right? What are friends for? Look, we all know I'm the life of the party. I never feel out of place anywhere." We both laugh.

"Thanks. But how are you though? I know it's probably weird for you. It's a holiday, but you're not with your family. You miss them?"

"Of course, but I'm here for a reason. I'm gonna go back home on holiday. At least I'm not completely alone. Gotta appreciate every blessing and that includes friends."

"True. It is kinda like we adopted you," I say smiling a little. "How do you know my Aunt's fiancé anyway?"

"Close family friend. His family lived next to mine in Lagos." I'm about to reply when Ziya comes up to us.

"Everyone's been looking for you two. We're exchanging gifts. Come on," she says motioning for us. I get up and so does Josiah as we go back inside.

The entire time we're opening presents, I'm staring at my Mom who's across the room. She's wearing a printed traditional outfit with the matching head scarf covering her hair. I looked nothing like my mother. None of me and my sisters did. We all looked like someone from my father's side of the family. My mother was a tan complexion with a narrow nose, silky hair and wide eyes. Most people thought she was Ethiopian or Eritrean. There were quiet a few times people questioned if she was our real mother.

When everyone's done opening gifts, I make my way over to her. I greet her then say, "Can we talk?"

"Alone?" She asks in her thick accent. I nod my head as she says, "If we can find somewhere." She looks around the full house then stands up. I decide to take her to an empty bedroom down the hall. We both sit on the bed then she says, "What is this about?"

"Mom, I think you should get a job. I need help. I can't do this by myself. I have my own bills to worry about on top of yours. You can't keep depending on others for money whether it's me, the government, or a family member."

"Where do you expect me to get a job at my age with little to no experience? I'm an old woman now."

"You're not that old. You can get a job at a grocery store, something, at least minimum wage. If your daughters in high school can get a job, so can you."

"Zipporah, I've worked my whole life despite what you think. You don't think I know what you think of me. The way you look at me. I had 7 children by the time I was 26. I've been taking care of other people since I was a child with all of my younger siblings and I still am with my own children. I. Am. Tired. Cooking, cleaning, running a household is a job.

"Don't you think I'm tired too? I have been doing the same exact thing. Why should I be taking care of my younger sisters financially like they're my children? You think I wanna worry about how I'm going to make money for myself and 4 other people? No. I get it, being a mother is a job, but you have perfectly working hands and feet."

"Your father took me out of the slums and told me my hands and feet would never be dirty again. When he brought us to America he sold me on a dream telling me I would get all of my hearts desires. Little did I know he would give his heart that he once said belonged to me to the streets. He sold his soul for the American dream. He traded his family in for jail leaving me to raise you all by myself. I never worked a day in my life when I was with him and he told me I never had to. I had 7 kids trying to give him a son. A son to carry on his name to one day take his place. A son that would one day become the man of the family and take care of us like tradition says, but that never happened. All I had were daughters. Daughters who give me a hard time. You're the oldest, so that's the next best thing to a son. You should WANT to take care of your mother and sisters. So no, I'm not what you deem as independent. I'm sorry you can't look up to me like your Aunts. I'm sorry you're ashamed of me because I'm nothing, but a housewife."

"I never said that. I just think you need to work. When Papa went to jail and was killed-"

"Killed, killed, killed," she shouts shaking her head. "I'm so tired of hearing that word. He wasn't killed!"

"What? Yes, he was." I say looking at her completely confused as to what she's saying.

She stands up over me saying, "I lied. I'm sick of lying to make you guys feel better about who you thought your father was. He wasn't killed in jail as revenge for –for telling. Your father killed himself, okay? He committed suicide. Hung himself in his jail cell. He abandoned you, me and your sisters. He was a coward who killed himself when things got too rough."

"That's not true," I say shaking my head.

"It's the truth. Ask your Aunt Rama or Amina. I told them not to tell any of you. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of him looking like the hero, while I look pathetic." Before she can say anything else I fly out of the room down the hall. There's tears rolling down my face as I storm into the living room looking for my Aunts.

When I spot them I go up to them. "Zi, why are you crying?" My Aunt Amina asks looking at me with concern.

"Tell me it's not true. My Mom's lying, right? My Dad didn't kill himself, right?" Both of my Aunts just look at me not saying anything. "You lied! All of you lied to us!" I yell as people are staring at me.

"Zipporah," my Aunt Rama says softly. "We wanted to tell you, but we were trying to respect your mother's wishes. She was only trying to protect you and your sisters."

"Protect us from what? The truth? Do you realize what I went through for what my father did? I was bullied, picked on, made fun of because he snitched. I still defended him, his name. He was nothing, but a coward all the way through. He snitches to get less time in jail only to kill himself once he's in there. What type of man does that? Puts his family through that?" I say shaking my head.

I turn around walking away as they call my name. People are staring at me, but I don't care. I leave the house going out to my car. I turn the heat on to warm my car up as I just sit there. I reach into my glove compartment getting the package of tissues I have in there. I pull a couple out then pull the vanity mirror down. The lights on the mirror automatically come on as I look at myself. The tears messed up my makeup, so I pat my face. I decide to just pull my lashes off to get them out of the way sitting them on the middle counsel.

When my phone begins to ring I pause what I'm doing. I grab it from my purse that's in the passenger seat. When I see it's D'Anthony my heart skips a beat. I quickly wipe my nose that's dripping then try to suck up any signs of crying. I hit answer saying, "Hello?"

"Hey," is all he says as it gets quiet.

"Something wrong?" I ask when he doesn't say anything else.

"Naw." I twist my lip up to the side wondering why he called if he's not going to say anything.

"How are you? Are you okay? Merry Christmas. Did you have a good day? Did you eat?" I spill out all at once from nervousness. I wanted to palm my forehead for sounding so eager.

"I'm fine, Zipporah." He says ignoring all the other questions. It's quiet again as I fidget with my nails seeing if he'll say anything. I hear him sigh heavily then he finally says, "I miss you."

My heartbeat speeds up as I take a sigh of relief. "I miss you too," I respond smiling a little to myself.

"I know it's Christmas and you're probably with your family, but can I see you later?...to talk."

"Y-yeah," I push out. "I should be home around 8."

"Alright," he says before hanging up. I look at my phone smiling to myself. I drop it in my lap then put my seatbelt on. I put my car in drive pulling off leaving. 

I sit in the living room with my younger siblings watching a movie. I have a younger brother who's 11 and a younger sister who's 9. We looked nothing alike though. My brother and sister looked like my Mom. Light skin, light colored hair and light eyes. They looked like most of my family from our island of Fogo. I looked like I was from Santiago in Cape Verde because that island has darker people. Me being born in Cape Verde, I experienced a lot of colorism. The crazy part was it came from my own family; my grandparents, mother, cousins. I couldn't even say I looked like my Dad. Maybe the only thing I had from him was his dark hair. I was the only one who was dark skinned and that's exactly why my mother treated me differently.

It only got worse when we moved to America. My Mom turned her nose up at African American's. She had this attitude she was better than Black people because we're creole, we have culture, we're not ghetto and the list goes on. When I started school, my Mom picked a private school that was mostly white kids. I was on the soccer team and that's what most of my friends were except D'Anthony.

I brought him to my house once and I never did that again. My Mom didn't say anything crazy to him. Instead she just made sure to embarrass the hell out of me by insulting my skin tone in order to make him uncomfortable. Let's not even get into when I was dating Sahara. She saw me walking with her out of school one day and once again she embarrassed the hell out of me. My Mom wasn't about to have her son dating some dark skin girl. If my Mom had it her way, I would be with a girl that looked like her.

My Mom wanted to pass so bad it was sad. Crazy thing is, the box we were expected to check was the one for African-American or of African descent. My Mom would check the box for some other race or origin. With her blonde hair and fair skin it was easy for her to pass, but not me so much.

At this point, I'm used to it. If it wasn't for my siblings, I probably wouldn't have come home to Baltimore for Christmas. It's not like I got any gifts. Once you reach a certain age, you don't get shit. Not even a $20 gift card. I only came to give them their gifts and spend time with them.

My mother comes into the room griping in Cape Verdean Creole as I just ignore her. My little sister lays in my lap with her sandy blonde, curly hair sprawled out. "Nico, Angelita, clean up this mess," she says pointing at the trash on the floor from all their gifts. Nico whines, but gets up and Angel gets up from my lap. "And you," she says as if I don't have a name pointing at me. "I need you to go to the store for me." I sit there as if I can't hear her staring at the tv screen. "You hear me?!" She yells clapping her hands in my face.

"You're talking to me? You didn't say my name, so I thought you were talking to Nico or Angel."

"No, I'm talking to you. Pánha di bo preto kú subi e bai!" I narrow my eyes at her saying black ass.

"I'm not going anywhere until