His Last Name

“No, don’t hit me! Don’t hit me! I wasn’t talking to any man, he is just a guy I went to school with!” It was my mother crying. She was asking for my help and her boyfriend was standing over her. We were back in the apartment I grew up in. He saw me and told me to go back to bed. I was a grown woman and instead of listening to him, I picked up a shoe and started bashing him in his head. He was bleeding from everywhere, his eyes and his ears. As he bled, I took my mother’s hand, and we rushed out of the apartment to a motorcycle and rode off. Then I woke up. I had just had another dream about my mother. Her coming home caused so much uneasiness. All these years later I was still carrying so much guilt. I felt guilty for not being there to protect her the night she killed her boyfriend. A few days earlier she had finally left him and we were staying with Aunt Rhonda. We were safe and it felt like everything was going to be okay, but one day while I was at school she went back to get some more of our clothes. She thought he was at work, but he wasn’t. He attacked her for the final time and left in a body bag. I guess she couldn’t take him hitting her anymore. She pled guilty to murder and went straight from the county jail to prison.

The four-bedroom house Deuce rented was in the suburbs of Philadelphia. It was in a good, quiet area, but also accessible by bus since my mom and aunt didn’t drive. Raven could come over and have her own room. I felt like a real adult because I decorated the house all by myself. I wanted my mom to be able to come home and relax. I contacted her parole officer and gave him my address. They had to come and inspect my house before she came home. I let Aunt Rhonda move in, and she tried her hardest to say that she wasn’t coming unless Ayana and Courtney came, too. I shut that down immediately. I was not about to have Courtney in my house. Once Aunt Rhonda saw the house, she changed her tune and asked if Ayana would be able to spend the night. I told her I didn’t have a problem with that.

We waited outside the prison gates. I don’t know who cried more, my mom, Aunt Rhonda, or me. When Trisha walked toward me, I bawled like a baby. She looked like the same lady I remembered, but just older with gray hair. I did something I never thought I would be able to do again—I got to hug my mom. She held me and I held her and we sobbed. She broke away from the hug and said, “My baby girl is all grown up. Look at you. You are beautiful.”

“She is just like you, Trisha,” Aunt Rhonda said as she went and hugged her sister and took her one plastic bag. We all got in the car and rode away from that horrible place that had held my mother for two decades. My mom sat in the front of the car in silence, and her eyes drifted as we traveled down the mountainside highway.

After her parole officer left, my mom ate again and took a long bath, came out, and fell onto the bed. I placed the covers over her and watched her sleep. I remembered when I was a little girl. After she got beat up, I would be her lookout as she rested. When he would come in the house, I would wake her.

“I didn’t want to hold anyone up with their life. I prayed for you every day. I prayed for Rhonda and Courtney, and I hoped one day I would see you again.” She brought tears to my eyes. I was mad at her for years. I didn’t pray for her because she left me. I was angry that she went back to him. I was mad because I didn’t have any family. I didn’t know if my dad was dead or he was still walking the street.

“We don’t have any family. Just me and Rhonda. Our mother dropped us off at the foster home when we were three and four. I didn’t answer your letters, but I got every one. I was mad at myself, for being there. I wanted better for you, and then I let you down and couldn’t face you. I was your mother and it was my job to raise you and I failed you.”

“I did fail you. That’s why you have to get your daughter back. Rhonda told me she lives with her grandmom. She has to grow up with you. We have to break the cycle. I will get me a job, and so will Rhonda. We were talking, and you don’t have to take care of us. I want you to take care of her.”

“Mom, you just got home. Don’t worry about Raven. She’s doing real good with her grandmom and granddad. She goes to a private school and I see her a lot. I travel too much for her to live with me. I can’t make sure she does her homework and gets up for school from another city, while I’m out here trying to make money.”