At first things were better than I could expect. A year later, I gave birth to our son whom I named after Joshua. I gave him the nickname Jo Jo. Work was going good and of course, since my baby was a country boy, he eventually ordered that I quit my job and take care of our baby boy. Little Tricie came three years later. And as both my kids grew, slowly I noticed my husband was growing too-away from us. He had a new buddy. This to me was fine since he said when he moved out here he left all his family and friends behind. But soon this new friend, Luke, was taking up a lot of my husband’s time. They were always going out shooting pool and drinking. Then my husband started having a hard time between paychecks, which was crazy, ’cause my husband made a grip being a longshoreman. Then it all made sense to me that he wasn’t just going out drinking and shooting pool.
One night, just as I was putting my now four-year old Tricie to sleep, Jo Jo was already knocked out in his room. Their daddy came through the door laughing so loud he almost woke them up. I closed Tricie’s bedroom door and peeked in Jo Jo’s room. Luckily, the noise hadn’t woke him either. I took a breath of relief and then rushed out to the living room. There was Joshua, some man, and a half-dressed woman. He didn’t even see me because he was too busy falling on the couch cracking up laughing. The dude, who looked like trouble, and the woman did the same. So there they sat looking like the Three Stooges right there in my living room.
I stood in the center of our living room and cleared my throat. Three heads popped up and looked at me.
“Oh, hey, baby.” Joshua gave me a smile. That night I noticed there was something different, much different, about Joshua. His eyes were glazed and dilated. He couldn’t focus and kept fidgeting. His words were slurred like he had lock jaw.
I didn’t smile back, just said dryly,” Hi.”
He introduced me to his guests. “Baby, this is my friend, Luke I was telling you about.” He looked toward the woman. “And this is Luke’s friend, Kendra.”
Luke looked dirty and grimy. He had dark, cracked lips, circles underneath his eyes, ashy looking skin, frumpy, wrinkled clothes and uncombed hair. Kendra didn’t look much better. Sex appeal didn’t rid her from looking like she stank. No matter how low-cut her top was or how high her skirt, that was something that just couldn’t be ignored.
Still, I nodded to both of them.
Luke nodded back, and Kendra waved like we were old friends.
“What’s going on?” I asked calmly. “It’s late.”
“I brought my friends over so we could have a little party, and I got something fun for you to try, baby.”
“What?” My eyes narrowed.
“This,” Luke said. He pulled a glass pipe and a cigarette lighter out of his pocket.
I gasped. Before I could utter another word, Luke lit it. Instantly the smell of burnt plastic filled the air. I knew what they were doing. They were smoking crack. My mom died from this when I was eighteen.
I turned away in disgusted. “Joshua, is this what you’ve been doing all this time? Is this why you been low on cash?”
He ignored me and snatched the pipe from Luke.
I turned my face away, not wanting to see my husband do that. I covered my ears at the sounds he was making.
Joshua finally said, “Come on, baby. You’re next. Try it.”
“No!” I ran from the room and could hear them giggling behind me. I locked myself in the bathroom until they left, praying to God this was all just a nightmare.
Soon Joshua wasn’t going to work at all, and we were getting behind in bills. He started selling everything that meant something to him: His sports memorabilia, expensive cologne, designer clothes and shoes. His car was next, and one day his wedding ring was gone. He would have taken mine too, but I start hiding it in my underwear before I would go to sleep. But one day he caught me slipping. I’d laid down for an afternoon nap and forgot to take the ring off. The next thing I knew, I woke up and that was gone too. I didn’t talk to him for days.
The only thing Joshua didn’t part with was the gun his daddy gave to him long ago. The one time he tried to pawn it he came right back. I figured there was hope for him yet. But then again, that was me; hanging in there-always looking for a ray of hope.
Speaking of having hope, I had never really been a spiritual person, but there I was in church every Sunday praying for my husband, praying he would kick his crack habit and we would have our old life back. I figured adding a little faith to my hope couldn’t hurt.
When I wasn’t in church or on my knees praying, I was begging Joshua’s boss, Jimmy, not to fire him. At first Jimmy tried to work with him, but he was missing too many days. Jimmy told me that on the days Joshua did go to work, he showed up high. Jimmy said it was too much of a liability.
Joshua’s so-called friends, Luke and Kendra, stopped coming around when my hubby lost his job. The handsomeness he once had was replaced with what was left after the drugs, which was nothing but a Skelton of what Joshua used to be. Of course, Joshua didn’t care ‘cause the drugs had taken over his soul.
Next, we lost our house and soon I found myself in the welfare office getting an EBT card too. Now I knew why my old neighbor had been so embarrassed that day in the store, years ago. Who wanted the world to know they were so broke that they had to depend on the government to eat? Now I was embarrassed, but my neighbor’s humiliation was nothing compared to mine. I ended up moving from my cozy home to an apartment that was right across the street from my home. As if adding salt to the wound, it was the same one my mean muggin’ neighbor resided in.
I remember her and her kids sitting on the steps cracking up at me and my kids as we dragged our things from our old house to our new apartment. We didn’t have much; just our clothes, couches, beds, tables and a few electronics, with the exception of our television, which Joshua had smoked off.
Joshua’s smoking was the reason why we were having to downgrade our lifestyle, and here he had the nerve to be out smoking instead of helping us move. Boy oh boy my neighbor got a kick out of seeing my little behind dragging my sofa and love seat one by one across the street on Jo Jo’s skateboard. She was just a cackling and pointing. Like always, I ignored her. Now she could mad dog me directly in my face, because I was now her neighbor!
The gods can be so cruel, I thought. The apartment was not even half the size of our old home. Sometimes I would just stand in my kitchen window and stare at my old house. I’d close my eyes and envision how it would be to still live there. I tried not to hate the new residents of my old home, even when they neglected the house. They didn’t water the grass or pull up the weeds. I wanted to be back there so badly, but I knew even if I was still there, things would never be the same as they used to be before the drugs.
Funny, I never accepted my apartment as “home”. It just didn’t feel like it. But hey, that was better than me and my babies being out in the street. Joshua probably never accepted the apartment as home because he’d never spent a night there. Heck, he was probably so high he didn’t even remember where we had moved to. If that was the case, part of me hoped that Joshua wouldn’t find us, because I felt that my kids and I needed to start fresh-without him. That was the strong part of me talking. However, the weak part of me, the part that still loved him, wanted him to get himself together so we could all be a happy family again.
One day after church I spotted Joshua hanging out on the corner panhandling. I would have chosen a cashier calling me out over a food stamp card any day than having my kids see their daddy like that on the streets.
“Daddy’s just sick. Daddy’s not feeling well,” I’d said to the children as the wifely and motherly instincts kicked in and had me take Joshua and lead him home with us. “Come on, let’s go home so you can get better and not be sick anymore,” I’d told Joshua, more so for the kid’s sake than his.
Once we got back to the apartment, he simply ate and crashed. It seemed like he’d slept for a week straight. When he finally did get up and come to, I wanted to tell him to leave and not come back until he got himself together in rehab or something, but I didn’t. The kids were just far too excited to have Daddy back home and seemingly not sick anymore.
Joshua, however, didn’t share the kids’ sentiments. He was right back to his old ways; coming and going. He was doing more going than coming. Nothing about him being there made our living situation any better. He would show up, barge his way in and sleep for days. Then he’d take money from my purse, steal away into the night and be gone for some more days. When he saw I had gotten slick to him going in my purse and I’d picked another spot to hide the county money, he got slick too.
One day, at the first of the month, I came home from the post office and all the groceries I had bought with the EBT card, a whole month’s worth, was gone. I knew only he could have done it. It made me sick to my stomach because I had nothing, being that I had paid the rent and utilities and bought Jo Jo and Tricie a few clothes. I had a few cents to my name. At first, I didn’t even trip knowing I only had a few cents to get me through to the next month. My kids had clothes on their backs and food to put in their bellies. Now I had nothing and I had no one to call for help. No mama, no family no friends. I didn’t have a relationship with anyone at my church since I hadn’t really been going there that long. So there was no way I would feel comfortable asking them for help. They would probably think I was only coming so I could get something from them and not Jesus.
But still, I had to do something. There was no way I was going to sit back and let my kids starve. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Maybe my neighbor would help. She couldn’t be all that bad. She had stopped giving me dirty looks a little after I moved in. They were replaced with sarcastic smiles and smirks. That was a little better than her evil looks.
“Y’all sit tight,” I told my kids, walking out the door. “I’ll be right back.” I walked down the steps and towards her door. Once there, I knocked.
When she opened the door she didn’t looked surprised to see me on her steps. Still, she asked rudely, “What?”
“Hello. I’m Shortcake, your neighbor.” My voice cracked on each word and my voice was barely above a whisper. I tried to smile though, but it was tight.
“Yeah, I know who you are. You been my neighbor for some years.” She jerked her head and looked across the street at my old house. “You ain’t never felt the need to come to my door before; like you was too good or something. So what brings you to my door now? Decided you wanted to go slumming?”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be rude or anything. It’s just that I try to keep to myself. You know how it is.” I let out a nervous chuckle but she didn’t see anything funny, so I continued in order to get by the awkward moment. “I was wondering if you had a little sugar I could borrow.” Pride had got the best of me. I couldn’t bring myself to ask for what I really wanted and needed, which was far more than some sugar. I needed some food-to borrow some food stamps until next month if she had any to spare.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Um humph. For what?”
“For. For,” I stammered.
“Girl, don’t play with me. Now we all know you an’ yo’ kids ain’t got no food. We seen your baby daddy, husband or whatever you call him carry it right out of yo’ house and sell it all. You want something to eat for your kids, you betta come more correct than that.”
I cleared my throat. “Can I please have something to eat for…” I could barely get the words out. Even if I could have, she interrupted me with her laughter.
She was cracking up laughing like it wasn’t me she was laughing at dead in my face. “It’s funny seeing yo’ uppity behind begging for scraps from poor, common folk like me.”
I narrowed my eyes confused. “What? No. I never...”
She waved the rest of my words away with the flick of her wrist. “Come in.” She moved to the side to give me entry. I stepped into her kitchen and glanced around. It was identical to mine, but more decorated. “Go on; take a seat,” she offered in her usual unfriendly mannerism. I sat at her glass dinette table.
She got busy at the stove. She had two pots simmering. She pulled out a huge bowl and piled spaghetti with meatballs high in it. My mouth watered just looking at it, and the smell was intoxicating. In another bowl, she scooped some creamed corn. She also laid out half a loaf of bread. It was almost the exact meal I was making for Joshua the day I ran into her at the grocery store. Funny-I remember piling ground beef, spaghetti sauce, noodles, French bread, canned cream corn and a block of parmesan cheese I planned on grating over the spaghetti, in my cart along with all the ingredients to make a red velvet cake. I didn’t care how much it would cost. I smiled sadly remembering that day Joshua and I sat at the table eating. He had eaten three plates of spaghetti. I shook my head at myself and turned my attention back on my neighbor.
“Here,” she snapped.
Before I could grab the bowls of food, she grabbed my hand and looked me squarely in my eyes. “Now you one of us, you hear?”
I nodded, though I was confused. But to get those bowls of food, I would have agreed with anything she said, true or not.
She smirked. “You don’t even know what I mean. You a struggler with kids, which means this...” She placed the left index finger of her free hand in the air. “Ain’t nothing off limits when it comes to feeding yours.” She gestured towards her brood who were all sitting in the living room of her home watching television. I was glad I only had two. “Some of the things you gonna have to do are stealing, lying, and sexing. ‘Cause you can’t borrow food forever.”
“No, I couldn’t.” I shook my head at the thought of ever having to trade sex for needs. God would provide, the same way He’d softened her heart just enough to help me out this time, He’d be there any other time I was in need. I had to believe that.
“You don’t believe me, huh?” She snickered. “Girl, either you dumb or just naïve. Maybe even both. But anyway, the track−”
“Track?” I twisted my face up in confusion.
“Yes, the track-where young girls and women go to make money-is on Figueroa. The best time to make money is between three-thirty and six-thirty in the morning. And believe it or not, it’s best to go on the weekdays as opposed to the weekends. Too much of a risk getting caught by the Po-Po if you go on the weekend. You pretty, so you ain’t gonna have no problems out there at all. You might even land a pimp.”
I wasn’t going to no doggone track! “Thanks for the food but−”
“Whatever. I’m just letting you know, holier than thou,” she mocked. “But when this runs out and your babies start crying...” She shook her head as if reliving something. “I’ll give you three days. You’ll be out there. You ain’t gon’ let them kids go hungry and you can forget about the food pantry. As bad as the economy has been, the neighborhood food panty only give out food toward the end of the month now-when they think everybody done used up all they stamps. So you got some days to wait for that. So you gon’ have to do something in the meantime. And you know what they say; in the meantime can be a mean time.” She let out her infamous cackle.
“Thanks for the food,” I said graciously. “I’ll pay you back.”
“Whatever.” She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes.
I grabbed the bowls. “I’ll wash your dishes and have one of my kids bring them back,” I said. But she had already walked away from where I was standing.