The Meeting Place
17th and L Street
NW Washington, DC
Daddy, Oscar and I had just started to gather our things to leave Fort DuPont Park. We frequented the park often to take in the sounds of the artists who performed in the Jazz in the Park venue. I really didn’t care for the music, but Daddy said I should always try to experience new things; besides he was making me go.
I handed the picnic basket from our lunch to Oscar. He was my father’s most trusted employee. Needless to say, Oscar was Daddy’s best friend. He was also the deadliest, and you would never catch me or my father out anywhere without Oscar in tow. He was always sporting twin Desert Eagles on his hips and he wasn’t afraid to make them clap. Oscar didn’t look like he was a killer which pleased him because it always made it easy for his opponent to underestimate him.
“Oscar, why does Daddy make me come to this bamma Jazz stuff? I would rather be at a go-go. All my friends are partying with Chuck Brown and listening to Backyard. Why do I have to be the only one of my friends who has to suffer through this weekly visit to Jazz in the Park?”
“YaYa, one day you will have the pleasure of taking over “The Family Business” and you will have to entertain other types of people. My sweet niece, you will be a great leader of the DC streets, and you will have to know how to dance with the devil. You will have to be cultured in many things.” Oscar said.
Oscar called anyone that wasn’t a nigga, the devil. He also liked to call my father’s ring of terror, drugs, pimpin’, and violence, “The Family Business” which they had been telling me was my destiny since I was two. Just as I was handing Oscar the other end of the blanket we had used to sit in the cool grass, my father pulled up in his brand new armored Hummer. We started to pack up the truck when a frail woman with a teenage looking dude approached us.
Oscar – who trusted no one – instinctively reached for the heat on his hip, exposing the butt of the gun on his right side. After a second glance, I could see that the walking stick figure that was approaching us was once my mother, Christa. She was dirty and looked as though she hadn’t had a bath in weeks. Her clothes were ratchet, and her hair was a shitty mess. She reached out for me, but Oscar grabbed Christa before she could touch me.
“Oscar, don’t touch me!” she scowled.
Oscar released her, not because he was sure she was safe, but because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. My father couldn’t believe his eyes either. He was seeing the mother of his daughter looking worse than he could have ever imagined. The dude who had walked up on us with Christa stepped up like he could protect her from anything that might pop off. He looked as though a bath tub hadn’t seen him in quite some time and that he had missed one too many meals. There was something about him though that gave off that, “Don’t fuck with me” vibe.
“Funny seeing you here! You were always so predictable.” Christa said as she walked up on my father who was standing with a look of guilt in his eyes. “Darnell how about you and I talk for a while? Maybe we could try and get that old thing back.” Christa cackled.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing coming from the mouth of the woman who once was my mother. She had the nerve to be trying to hit on my Dad as if he were going to jump at the chance to fuck her.
“Dee, I want you to meet someone. Neko, this is Dee and that lil’ black bitch is your sister, YaSheema. She is the reason we have no home son. She is the reason we ain’t got nothing. That lil’ whore stole everything from me, including my man!” She screamed pointing at me. She was staring at me through drug-riddled eyes that were evil little slits.
Darnell had had enough. “Christa, if you don’t leave YaYa out of this and tell me what it is you are doing here, I swear they are gonna’ find your ass in the Potomac by morning!” He barked.
“I don’t want shit from you or that tramp YaYa.” She scowled. “Look, I have decided to get myself cleaned up. I need some help Dee. I am fucked up. I dunno’ what else to do. I have nowhere to go.” She sobbed.
“I’m no good to Neko like this. I can’t help him until I can help myself.” Her tears flowed freely. There was no doubt in my mind this was an award-winning performance. The young man with her, who eerily resembled me, rolled his familiar grey eyes.
“Look Christa, you and the boy just get in the truck because I ain’t gonna’ have you putting on a show for the whole damn city to see!” Darnell said.
Christa lifted her head and thanked my father for being so gracious. She tried to look as if she was wiping away tears. Then she looked at me and winked her eye. I knew right then Momma had some shit with her and I was determined to find out what the deal was.
“I see you moved out of the hood Dee.” Christa said as we walked into our home on Dumbarton Street, in the heart of historical Georgetown, DC.
Georgetown is a beautiful area in upper Northwest Washington, DC. It used to be exclusively for colored folks back in the day and then white folks ran the blacks out during the 50’s and 60’s. Now it’s nothing but uppity white folks living in their million-dollar homes. Black folks in this part of DC were far and few between.
“Yeah, Georgetown was a better area to raise YaYa in. She could go to a better school, but we didn’t have to move out of the actual city. I like it. I can sleep better knowing YaYa is safe here.” Darnell said.
My Dad and Christa were making small talk and I didn’t want to hear my mother’s fake shit anymore. “Christa why are you here?” I said with my hands on my perfectly rounded twenty-six year old hips. “You gotta’ have a reason. You must want something.” I stated.
Christa whirled around and stated boldly, “I am your mother and you will respect me little girl!”
“Mother? More like a fucking drug addict!” I shouted. “You haven’t been a mother to me my whole life, so don’t try to come in here with that shit now! And respect? Why should I respect a two-dollar whore?” I spat.
Christa lunged for me and slapped me across my face. I was stunned that the nasty bitch had touched me. Oscar moved in fast.
“That’s enough Christa! I will not have you beating on one another in here!” Oscar barked as he carried me out of the room kicking and hollering.
“Imma’ get you; you better believe this shit ain’t over!” I screamed.
I could see Christa staring at me like she knew what I said was true. Her days were numbered. I had no love for the woman who gave me life. I had no respect for her. I vowed right then and there that she would never get another chance to make me feel like I was the cause of her misery. I saw Neko watching me as I was being carried away. I knew I should have protected him from the wrath of Christa. I was not going to let her fuck up his life anymore than she already had. I was fortunate enough to have my father in my life. God only knew what he had been through in his.