The Keysha Diaries, Volume One. Earl Sewell
put it mildly, my mother’s outfit was a hot mess. She was too old for the style of clothes she was fond of wearing. She had her oversize behind stuffed into a pair of low hip-riding Phat Farm jeans, which were in desperate need of a belt. She had on a white belly top that exposed her pregnant chocolate tummy, her stretch marks and an old tattoo of a red rose. I’d tried on occasion to help her find clothes that were more appropriate, but she didn’t like the fashions I’d picked out.
“I know, girl, I’m fine as wine,” she said, mistaking my horrified expression for approval of the way she looked. “I couldn’t take two steps without a car honking a horn at me. Isn’t that right, Simon?” She looked to her friend to confirm the truthfulness of her statement.
“You know all the men want you, baby,” said Simon. The way he was looking at me made me feel as if a thousand bugs were crawling on my skin—honestly, dude made my skin crawl as if I were watching an episode of Fear Factor.
“What’s your daughter’s name again?” asked Simon as he continued to rape me with his eyes.
“Keysha, fool. You know that,” my mother answered him.
“Give me a break. I haven’t seen this girl since she was a baby,” said Simon. He looked over at my mother, and that’s when I noticed a hideous scar that ran from his right earlobe, across his cheek and down to the corner of his lip. The site of the scar caught me off guard, and now I was the one doing all the eye raping.
“You don’t remember Simon, do you, Keysha?” asked my mom.
“With a face like that how could I ever forget him,” I said.
“I got this scar at one of the parties your Grandmother Rubylee used to host years ago. I was helping her collect a debt,” Simon said as he continued to stare at me as if he were studying for an exam.
“Simon is an old friend of the family from around the old neighborhood,” said my mother. “We used to hang out and party together all the time. We had some good times together, didn’t we, Simon?”
“Yeah, we did,” he said, smiling at the memory.
“So you two used to date or something?” I asked.
“Something like that.” Simon’s answer was very vague.
“We ran into each other at the club last night. We got to talking about the old days and the good times. Simon is starting up a business,” said my mother. “We’re going to go in the house and talk about it.”
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes because I didn’t care about what her and Simon were really up to. One thing was for sure, it wasn’t about starting a legitimate business.
“Justine, she looks too damn familiar. Who’s her father?” Simon smiled at me and his teeth were as yellow as a lemon. I cringed at the sight of them.
“Why do you want to go and ask me a question like that in front of her?” Justine got irritated with Simon.
“You know why I’m asking,” said Simon. “She looks just like my cousin—”
“Look—” I cut him off because there was no way I was related to anyone who looked like him.
“Wait a minute, Keysha, let me look at you one more time,” Simon said, studying the details of my every feature.
“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” I said and rushed away from them.
“Keysha, wait a minute.” My mother chased after me.
“What? I’m heading off to register for school,” I said.
“Hold on a minute.” She grabbed my arm and forced me to stop.
“Why are you just now getting home?” I asked with an authoritative tone. “And why did you bring him with you, and why is he acting like he knows something about me?”
“Who the hell are you snapping at? I don’t have to answer to you,” she quickly reminded me. At that moment I noticed the unpleasant smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke that was pasted to her skin and clothing. The odor was choking the air between us.
“You need to start acting your own age and not like some teenager who can’t control their hormones.” I don’t know why I said that; it just flew out of my mouth.
“Excuse you!” she barked at me. “Don’t mess around and get a beat down in the middle of the street,” she threatened me. I didn’t say any more because my mother was crazy enough to knuckle-up her fists and fight me right where I stood.
“Why does he think I look like someone he knows? Why does he even think he knows who my father is?”
“Simon doesn’t know what he’s talking about, baby. He’s just talking out of the side of his head. Don’t pay him any attention.”
“I’ll be back later,” I said, not wanting to speak with her anymore.
“Hold on a minute.” She wiggled her fingers into her front pocket and pulled out a crumpled-up five-dollar bill. “Get yourself something to eat while you’re out. I probably won’t be home when you get back.”
“Why?” I questioned her again. I’d gotten so tired of her being gone all of the time.
“Because I’ve got things to do. If things work out, I may be able to make a little money today.”
“Doing what?” I asked suspiciously.
“I don’t know. That’s why Simon has come over. He’s going to tell me about his business.”
I didn’t like her answer, and before I could stop my words I found myself interrogating her once again.
“Is it a legitimate job?” She didn’t answer me. “Why don’t you look for a real job, Mom?” I asked in a softer tone of voice.
“Because I don’t have to. That’s why I have you, so I can collect a check.” She quickly turned icy on me. Her comment made me feel as if I had no emotional value to her. I was just a person she could get a welfare check for.
“You know that the back rent is due, and if you don’t pay we could be put out again. I don’t think the landlord is playing around.”
“I’m not worried about it,” she said and didn’t offer up any type of comfort to assure me that everything would be okay. I wanted to scream and yell at her. I wanted to explode, but instead I just built a wall around my emotions for her. At the moment I refused to allow her to cripple me emotionally. If she didn’t care, then I didn’t, either.
“Have fun with your friend Simon,” I said as I walked off.
“I will!” she yelled back at me as I rushed off down the street.
* * *
I thought for sure the lines for registration would be long, but they weren’t. I was able to go through the process fairly quickly. One of the school administrative staff printed out my class schedule and handed it to me. I glanced down at it and noticed that I had math first thing in the morning.
“Nine o’clock in the morning is too early to have a math class. Can you switch it for me?” I asked the lady who’d printed out my schedule. She looked at me for a long moment, as if I’d lost my mind.
“I guess that means no,” I said sarcastically.
She frowned and yelled out, “Next.”
My biggest concern now was school supplies or my lack of them. I hated being unprepared but I really didn’t have a choice in the matter. I’d have to recycle the folders that I had from last year and latch on to someone when I needed additional supplies. It was an embarrassment I’d have to contend with.
By twelve-thirty that afternoon I’d arrived back home. As I came up the block I saw Toya still hanging around the front of the building toying around with her deck of cards.
“What’s