The Keysha Diaries, Volume One: Keysha's Drama. Earl Sewell

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      two

      The apartment my mom and I lived in felt more like a big square box than a studio apartment. Once inside there really wasn’t much to see. On the right wall was an old white stove that looked as if it’d come from the Stone Age. I was continually amazed that it actually worked. The refrigerator, which was next to the stove, was just as ancient. It was white with a chrome handle that had to be pulled toward your body before the door would open. There was one window at the back of the room. It looked out over the abandoned lot where the alley mechanics work and loiter. The window didn’t have a curtain, just a dingy white shade. On the left side was the bathroom, which was long overdue for a makeover. Sometimes I was completely grossed out by the murky brown water that came out of the faucet. You had to let it run for a while before it changed color. Next to the bathroom was an oversize door, which was where the Murphy bed was located. That was about the only cool thing about the place. A bed that actually folded up into the wall was kind of neat. My mom slept on the Murphy bed and I slept on the sofa-sleeper, which was near the window. We didn’t have any closets, only two large dressers that were positioned outside of the bathroom. We had one small television that sat atop one of the dressers, but it didn’t have cable, so as far as I was concerned, it had limited value.

      I went over and laid down on the sofa. I threaded my fingers behind my head and closed my eyes. I blocked out all of the sounds of the city—the wailing fire engine, the loud trunk amps and the sound of multiple conversations. My mind was flashing images of the events that had occurred over the past few months. Directly after the death of my Aunt Estelle and the conviction of my Grandmother Rubylee, my mother was arrested for driving around as a passenger with a friend of hers in a stolen car. While her case was being ironed out, Grandmother Rubylee got in touch with her father’s relatives and convinced them to take me in for a little while. I hated living with them because they were mean-spirited people. They treated me like their maid, and if something malfunctioned or got damaged, it was my fault. Even if the utility bill went up, it was my fault. When the charges against my mother were dropped, I was relieved and excited to be back with her. It was clear that things were going to be hard for us, but I figured my mom would step up and make sure we were safe. At least, that was what I was hoping for.

      Sometimes I fantasized about who my father was and what it would have been like living with him. I’d never met my father, but in a way, I’d always hoped that he’d magically appear and come and rescue me from my situation. But that was just a dream from the fairy tales of my imagination. I knew someone out in the world was my father, but I didn’t know who, and Mother wasn’t actually sure, either, or that was what she’d told me over the years. A loud knock at the door startled me back into reality.

      “Who is it?” I asked aloud.

      “It’s me, Toya.” Dang, why doesn’t she take a hint? I thought to myself. I just want to be alone right now. I opened the door and she was standing there with her son perched on her hip.

      “Girl, I need a real big favor from you,” she said. I wasn’t in the mood to give out any favors, but before I could tell her that, she unlatched her son, Junior, from her hip and handed him to me.

      “I need you to watch him for about an hour,” she said. I prepared to hand him back to her.

      “Have your grandmother watch him,” I said.

      “Come on, Keysha, you know that she’s going blind and can’t see too good. I only left him in the house because he was asleep. I mean, she can watch him but it’s not like she’s really keeping an eye on him.”

      “Then why don’t you take him with you? He’s your son,” I said.

      “Girl, because I just got a phone call from my cousin telling me that my man is on her block all hugged up with some girl, and I need to go see what’s going on with that.” There was a long moment of silence between us. I wanted to tell her that she should take her baby with her because I just wasn’t in the mood to deal with him right now.

      “Come on, girl. I promise I’ll only be about an hour.” I sighed, and she took my grumbling sound as confirmation that I’d watch him.

      “Thank you so much,” she said, then left abruptly.

      “Don’t leave him here all night, Toya. I have to register for school in the morning,” I yelled out behind her as she rushed down the corridor and out of the building.

      Junior was quiet and didn’t say much at all. I could tell that he was in some sort of deep thought. He was about fourteen months old and had beautiful eyes. I sat him down on the sofa and asked if he wanted something to eat.

      “I don’t have much, but I think I can whip up something that will hold you over for an hour,” I said to him. Junior didn’t respond. He only stared at me with sad eyes. I knew the sadness in his eyes all too well. I suppose in many ways he and I had something in common—a mother who wasn’t ready, or equipped, to be one. I opened up the refrigerator and removed a package of bologna to make a sandwich. I suppose he can eat this, I thought to myself, uncertain of what he could and couldn’t eat. I fixed him up the perfect sandwich and just as I was about to cut it into smaller portions, I noticed that he’d drifted off to sleep again. This baby was still asleep when Toya woke him up to bring him over to me, I thought. I placed the sandwich back in the refrigerator in case he wanted it later on. I went and sat down next to him and situated him so that his head was resting on my lap. I began to stroke his hair and think about what it would have been like if Ronnie and I would’ve had a baby. I wondered what his or her skin complexion would have been like. I wondered if the baby would’ve looked like me or him and if we would’ve made it in spite of all the obstacles that would have been in our way. Ronnie was my first, and I suppose in some ways I’d never forget him. I thought he loved me just as much as I loved him, but I was wrong. Ronnie was only interested in getting down with me and nothing more. It’s hard when you don’t feel loved. Now that I think about it, that was the reason behind sleeping with Ronnie in the first place. He kept telling me how much he loved me and I believed him. I mean, when a guy tells you that he loves you, he has to be serious about you, right? I mean, I can honestly say I’d never heard my mother tell me she loved me. Sometimes, I just wanted to be hugged. Even though I was a teenager, I still liked to be hugged, but my mother wasn’t the hugging type. I felt like СКАЧАТЬ