Ghetto Girls. Anthony Whyte
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Deedee stood in front of the oval mirror on the back of the door. She stared at her reflection. This is what happens when you take something without permission. You have to pay. But why is there such a heavy price? Tears welled in her eyes. Deedee’s chest heaved uncontrollably; then she cried hard and loud. Her uncle heard, and froze to the spot where he stood in the kitchen.
“Damn Sophia should be here already. I need her now!” Eric said talking to the ceiling. “And Deedee’s damn drugged-out mother. I don’t even know where she is. Dammit! I swear on my brother’s grave, whoever did this fucking shit, I’ll personally take care of them. I want no help from those fucking police.” Eric was almost on the verge of tears as he collapsed in an easy chair.
Later, as he sipped another brew, Eric heard the keys turning in the door and the sound of Sophia’s footsteps rapidly approaching. They embraced briefly.
“I could hear her from outside. What’s wrong? Why is she crying so loud?” Sophia asked.
“Listen, I really don’t know. She came in and went straight upstairs and locked her door. I didn’t get a chance to talk to her.”
“What? You haven’t even spoken to her? Well...”
“Well, I didn’t know what to say to her.”
“She may have wanted to say something to you. Anything…”
“She had a chance when we were driving from the hospital and—”
“Get me two glasses of cold water.”
“For what? I don’t need to cool down.”
“Who said anything about you? They’re for me and Deedee.”
Sophia took the first glass and drank a mouthful. She set the glasses on a tray and took her black pumps off, then made her way up the short stairway to Deedee’s room.
“Dee? May I come in?” She asked knocking gently.
“Hold on. Just a second, Sophia,” Deedee said and opened the door. She was walking to the bed when Sophia came in.
“Hey, girlfriend,” Sophia said. She was trying to sound upbeat. Deedee mumbled but Sophia ignored the inaudible response.
“I brought some water. Cold water, with a few ice cubes. I thought you could use a little. I know I could.”
“Sophia, have—well no, but—” Deedee looked down on the beige carpeted floor, and then continued. “Have you ever been raped?”
The blunt question caught Sophia off guard. Just for an instant, she wished she could say she had been raped, it was a common thing, but the experience never happened and Sophia could not fake it.
“No,” she replied. “I have never been raped. I can imagine that it’s a most terrible thing.” A brief pause followed. “Do you want the water now?” Sophia asked as she sipped.
“Thanks,” she said reaching for the glass. She sipped and spoke. “It’s bad. It’s really, really awful,” Deedee cried.
Deedee gulped the rest of the water and felt it roll down her dry throat. A surprise burp caused her to look at Sophia, who had been standing in the middle of the room. They smiled. Deedee walked over and hugged Sophia.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’m sleepy, but could you stay with me until I fall asleep?”
The sun illuminated the room. Deedee walked over to the picture window and stood in the first light to enter. She touched her stomach and thought of her mother, wondered if she were dead or alive. Sophia silently watched Deedee. Suddenly it was clear: Deedee was no longer an innocent child; she was the victim of a heinous crime. Sophia walked over to the window and pulled the draperies closed.
“Get some rest, Dee,” she said.
“Yeah, but will you stay?”
“Of course I will.” Sophia answered.
Deedee moved over to the bed and turned toward Sophia.
“I feel like I’ve got to take a long bath,” she said. “Thanks, Sophia.” She went into the bathroom and closed the door. Sophia sat on the bed. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Deedee undressed and stepped into the shower. The spray sent a sudden chill through her body. She stood under the shower, allowing the water to soak in. It didn’t dampen her thought: If I hadn’t taken that car, none of this would’ve happened. She cried a little. Why such a heavy price?
She thought of the last time she had seen her mother, Denise, who had gotten heavy into drugs after her father’s death. Perhaps she couldn’t handle his dying, or maybe it was the way he was killed. Whatever it was, Deedee remembered vividly that the last month or so before she was carried away, Denise was stealing to support her crack habit. She had lost a lot of weight and looked quite emaciated. Her clothing no longer fit. Deedee remembered feeling real hatred toward her mother.
Uncle Eric had tried to explain, but Deedee couldn’t understand. She wouldn’t listen and changed her name on the school register by forging her mother’s signature. Denise had been part of Deedee’s name. She had been Denise D. Ascot, but changed it to Deedee. Because of her mother’s drug use Deedee despised her. During the period they lived together, Deedee often wished death on her mother.
“Dear God, I pray that you take my mommy back or let her die.” Deedee prayed daily. One day, five years ago, the ambulance had carried her mother away on a stretcher. Denise had overdosed on crack-cocaine and heroin. Deedee felt some type of relief. She hoped her mother would never come back. After the overdose, Deedee never saw Denise again. She would miss her, but kept that a secret. Now she wanted her mother. Eric had assumed the role of her father, and now that he was contemplating marrying Sophia, well, maybe she would have a mother again.
Deedee toweled herself and put on her robe. Sophia rose from the bed so that Deedee could lie down. Deedee brushed her damp hair and fell asleep.
Sophia rejoined Eric downstairs. He had downed two more beers and was working fast on the third.
“Hey, big guy, don’t drink yourself silly. Save me some.” Sophia said.
“That silliness is not a bad idea. As for the beer, there’s plenty in the fridge.” Eric answered.
“Thanks. Please don’t kill me with kindness,” Sophia said.
“Listen, my niece was ...”
“I know. Raped. It is a very, very bad thing. We’ve got to be supportive and try to get something positive...”
“Something positive out of being raped?” Eric asked.
“Out of this evil try to find the good. Maybe you can overwhelm her with good—and goods.”
“Like?”
“Like a shopping spree, getting clothes. Like sending her flowers. And more shopping. The idea here is to try to help her to forget. I have friends who will be able to provide counseling and other support services. In time this horrible experience may be put to the back of her mind.”
“Is that possible?” Eric asked. His eyes widened with the knowledge Sophia had just imparted.
“Yes. You won’t be able to take it all away. But, hey, it certainly won’t hurt to try,” said Sophia between sips of the newly opened brew.
“Sophia, that shit really hurts me. I don’t know...”
“Yeah, I understand. What did the police—?”
“Later for them assholes. They have