I have been in here for days. They are probably looking for me but I don’t care. They probably think I am in a dumpster somewhere. They think I’m wrapped in a black trash bag. So they are pooling together their resources so they can come together to raise my kid now that I am theoretically “gone.” They are part correct. They are probably more than half right. Which also means that there is an existing part of them that is “wrong.” Consequently, I’m right too! That is extremely comforting in this time where I really need a win. I need to be indisputably right. I’ll settle for this unofficial 33% though.
See, I met a man on the Colosseum block on Jamaica Avenue. He’s a security guard. He’s a grown man with a job and a beautiful smile. Usually, someone like that isn’t interested in someone like me. I’ve always thought of myself as plain. I’ll tell you one thing though…I have bedroom moves that would put a Stanley 68 6 way screwdriver out of business. I know how to make men feel special and feel in control. I yearn to be controlled and I long to be needed. Mr. Security Guard fits the bill for now. They don’t know anything about him. They just know that he is the last person I was with. They know I am either “flippin’ in the ghetto on a dirty mattress” in a bad way or…I’m gone.
I miss my kid though. The last thing I wanted to become was Her. She is the woman who walked away from me when I was a toddler and then She decided to come back on my 11th birthday. Then the Broad left again. She popped in and out of my life for most of my life sporting a cute nickname, “Mom”, that only she called herself. We (my brother and I) just call her Beverly.
My goody two shoes best friend has been going over to my house every day since I’ve been gone. She acts like she’s better than me because she stopped at getting finger popped and I went all the way. She’s saving herself for marriage and I wish her luck but I don’t believe in such things. Goody Goody is good, I must admit. She brings over food and toys for my kid. My step-sister and Goody Goody are home from their respective colleges for the holidays. I know they are just trying to make a bad situation less bleak. If they could only see the picture from my viewing seat.
Beverly is a figment of my imagination, my grandmother who was my best friend in the whole world is gone, my grades are great but I hate school, my dad has spent his whole life trying to be the character he created in his mind. In the process of trying to become this character he has ruined every woman he has ever touched. My siblings are their own beautiful messes. I love my baby brother and I wish there weren’t so many years between us. He might be the one to actually understand me. It’s too late now.
They are frantically looking for me like any good family should. They are imagining the worst. They are praying for the best. I’m gone though. I can see the breath leave my body. I hear someone calling my name. I’m surrounded in darkness and I f*#@ing love it! Every time I walked towards the light it was just a trickster with a flashlight shining it in my eyes to taunt me before he shoves it where the sun don’t shine. I know there is a God but I need help finding his contact information (there’s no yellow pages anymore.) I just want that warm apple strudel that slides down your throat baked by the hands of someone beautiful. They call it love. I’m been searching for it, I draw it, I read about it, Good Goody sings songs about it. The silence of my surroundings is drinking me in. I can hear my own noises now over the absence of sound. The nothingness pushes the walls on top of me. It doesn’t hurt though. I just focus in on the reverberation of thoughts so strong they could escape the confines of my head. In here it is just me and my madness. I don’t know when I will leave here. Within the isolation is the safest I have felt in some time.
I can’t hide in this basement forever. I think they teach Sunday school here in the morning at 10am.