3
LaRhonda
LaRhonda spent most of her days taking care of her kids. It’d been a year since the encounter on the roof between Eric and Vincent. After that incident it was as if Vincent saw the light; he stopped hitting on her, moved her and their kids out the projects, and took care of everything financially. She didn’t have the need for anything. Happiness finally entered her life.
After years of living with her family she was elated to move out and have a safe and comfortable environment for her kids. When she gave birth to her oldest, Diamond, she was only seventeen and quit going to school altogether. She didn’t want her drug-addicted mother to take care of her baby and she definitely didn’t want social services to become a household name for Diamond. Staying home and doing what she had to do for her child was her main priority.
When she found out that she was pregnant again she knew staying with her mother would have to change. She pleaded with Vincent and he stepped up. Before she gave birth to her second child, Aaron, Vincent moved them into a small two-bedroom apartment on Bedford and Atlantic Avenue. Knowing what Vincent was doing to make money wasn’t a factor; she just knew everything was being taken care of.
After living away from the hell she called home for eighteen years, it only took her eight months to crawl back to her mother. Vincent got caught up in an armed robbery of a popular pizza joint on Utica Avenue. It only took a week to know Vincent’s future: five-year bid on the Rock. He took the plea because of the surveillance footage they had as evidence. No paid lawyer would be able to get him out of paying the price for his actions.
LaRhonda cried for days, fighting her regrets and should have’s.
Vincent did the right thing by securing her financially for at least two to three months. Every robbery stick-up he survived he stashed some money with his grandmother. Their relationship was close to none, but he knew she wouldn’t stab him in the back. One of the calls he made when he got locked up was to her, letting her know that LaRhonda would come by for the money. His grandmother didn’t like what he did, but she understood it and blamed the environment his parents raised him in.
LaRhonda isolated herself from everyone and didn’t go to retrieve the money until two weeks after Vincent was sentenced. When she finally did get the money, to her surprise there was at least ten grand stuffed into a small knapsack, mostly small bills, but she was thankful she could feed her kids until she signed up for government help. She didn’t want to depend on welfare, but her reality was “oh too real” to be risking anything.
She swallowed her pride and worked out a deal with her mother; if her mother kept her company outside she would give her rent money. Knowing that her mother was too old and dried up to be out on the street supporting her habit, she figured providing the means to her inevitable death would be prolonged instead of immediate. She couldn’t help loving her mother, but she also couldn’t allow her to suffer. Although living there would cause her extreme stress, she had nowhere else to go.
Once she gave the landlord notice, she sold what she could and packed up some suitcases, then headed back to the projects. Upon arrival she placed her kids with an upstairs neighbor she unintentionally grew up with. As she entered her mother’s house she could smell the dirt and the faint smell of burning rubber. She pulled out her phone and dialed Keisha’s number for the first time since Vincent was sent off to the Rock.
“Hell—”
LaRhonda quickly interrupted her. “I need you and another body to come help me. I’m back at my mother’s and I gotta clean this place out before I bring my kids in here. I know we ain’t speak in a minute, but I need your help. Can you help?”
“You my girl, right, so you ain’t sayin’ nothing but a word. I’ll be there with reinforcements. Give me an hour.” Keisha ended the call.
With a smile on her face she called out to her drunk and high mother, “Yo, Ma?”
A short, bald-headed woman approached her with a small bottle of vodka swinging at her side. “What you want now? You got my money?”
LaRhonda scrunched her nose at the sight of who once was a beautiful woman, Millie. “You know you stink, right? And you know once my kids come in here you gotta do all that shit somewhere else ’cause you won’t be getting no money from me. And I sure as hell don’t need DFS on my ass.”
“Oh, so you wanna play like that. Don’t forget who providing these accommodations for your no-good ass. I thought I got rid of your ass, but here you are. Let me guess: his ass either dead or locked up. You can’t even keep your man out of trouble.” She took a swig from her bottle.
“You know what, here’s . . .” She reached into her right jeans pocket and pulled out $250. “That covers two months. Now get the fuck outta here for a while.”
Her eyes widened when she saw the green in her daughter’s hand. After snatching it from her hand she started to con for more but shut her mouth once she heard a knock at the door.
“Millie, open the fuckin’ door. You fuckin’ owe me, bitch,” a loud, deep voice shouted on the other side of the door.
“Ma, who the fuck is that?” LaRhonda asked with a scared look. What the fuck am I gettin’ into? Shit!
“I don’t know, shit! I owe a lot of motherfuckers!”
Millie’s laughter annoyed her to the point of almost slapping her mother down. She contemplated opening the door.
The banging and yelling became louder.
LaRhonda walked into the kitchen, which looked like an ashtray; cigarette butts were smashed all over the counter, table, in the sink, and even on the stovetop. She pulled out a drawer next to the sink; immediately the roaches scattered. She picked up a rusty knife and walked toward the door.
“Bitch, you better open this fuckin’ door or—”
LaRhonda swung open the door. “Or what? You better get the fuck outta here before po-po get here, ’cause I already called.”
“Who the fuck is you?” The fiend-out addict looked past her and over to her mother. “Millie, tell this bitch to get out my way.” He struggled to stay fully awake to attempt his wannabe home invasion.
LaRhonda slammed the door in his face and shouted that the cops were coming, hoping that would send him on his way.
Millie stood there with her bottle in one hand and the only money she had the other. “By the time I get back, I want this house cleaned and them bratty, loud-ass kids you got in your room ’sleep.” She walked into her room, slipped into her torn sneakers, and threw a ratty old sundress one size too small over her head. She walked back out toward the door.
“Don’t hurry back,” LaRhonda insisted.
LaRhonda didn’t stop her; she had a lot of work to do before she could bring her kids in there. Looking around she didn’t know where to start; garbage littered the floor, stains of whatever were embedded in the carpet, used needles, used condoms, and liquor bottles, large and small, were scattered throughout all the rooms in the three-bedroom apartment.
First thing first, I gotta go get some working gloves, latex gloves, garbage bags, and cleaning supplies. I better go let Mary know she may have the kids for more than a few hours. This shit is crazy. I can’t believe I’m back here.
LaRhonda stood there on the verge of tears. I shouldn’t be back here. I hate you, Vincent, for this! Back to one room, ain’t this a bitch! All she could think of was the horror she left was now her home once again.
A few hours later, Keisha and two others were there helping to clear out almost everything; they ripped the carpet up, and threw out the sofa, all the dishes and cutlery, along with anything related to drugs and alcohol. She knew when Millie finally showed up there would be a fight for throwing out most of her shit. Not giving a fuck, she continued with the clean-up without a word.
When Keisha’s friends went on another garbage dump behind the building, she finally spoke. “Yo, Ronnie, what’s good?”
“What you mean?” Ronnie didn’t want to talk about how her life was shit at this point.
“C’mon, I’m your girl. You ain’t even call me when Vincent got locked up. Shawna said she called, had her mother call, but you ain’t never holla back. You call me out the blue talkin’ ’bout you need help. So, what’s the deal?” Keisha needed to know.
LaRhonda took a deep breath. “Keisha, me and you have always been straight with each other. So I’ma say it once and then I’ma need you to leave shit alone. Agreed?”
Keisha folded her arms across her chest. “Whateva, Ronnie . . .” She rolled her eyes, waiting for her sorry excuses.
“After Vincent got sent to the Rock”—she paused, not wanting anyone to know how desperate she really was—“I didn’t know what to do. I was just going through the motions. Listen, I know I haven’t talked to you or Shawna in months and it was like I dropped off the planet, but I was tryin’a make it work with Vin. I wanted him to know I could give up everyone and everything associated with over here including Eric.”
“So you stopped talking to us ’cause of that bitch ass. You can’t be serious! You lucky I don’t give a fuck. You still fuckin’ with Eric?” Keisha asked, a bit annoyed that her best friend pushed her to the side because of some man who beat her on the regular.
“Why does that matter?” LaRhonda cut her eyes and sucked her teeth.
“It don’t, but are you?”
“Just leave it alone. Why you so concerned anyway? You fuckin’ wit’ him?” LaRhonda snapped.
Keisha laughed. “Whateva, Ronnie . . .” She pulled off her gloves, threw them in the garbage bag, and said, “I’ma tell Jerome and his boy to help you finish, but I’ma leave now. I gotta go meet up with Shawna and tell her how our friend just returned from the beyond,” she lied.
“Don’t go spreadin’ my business to her either. I’ma see her around sooner or later.”
Keisha left without another word.
Oh my God, why she even actin’ like that? She don’t know what the hell I’m going through. I gotta make shit work right now and I’ma use and do whateva to get what I want. LaRhonda stood there, contemplating her next move.