Niya Read online

  The good thing was, after that night in the alley, things at home were going well. My stepdad stayed in his lane, I was back in my room, while Marie had to sleep on the couch, and we were moving into a three-bedroom soon. It was in the same building, but it was an apartment with an extra room for Marie. At first, my mother couldn’t understand the changes in my stepdad, but soon she seemed just to be happy that there was peace in the house. That was the thing with her: as long as he seemed happy, she was happy. I guessed she just didn’t give much thought to how I felt. My happiness didn’t matter to her. It was all about him

  In the weeks that passed, Niya, Smiley, and I were inseparable. Although I still had a bone to pick with Smiley about the stunt she had pulled when Niya and her mother were fighting, I kept my mouth shut. I just kept telling myself to forget her actions, but deep inside, I held them against Smiley. Niya was teaching me how to drive. Plus, she had started going to more clubs with Smiley and had even started to write more herself. She was still dealing drugs, but I saw the effort, and that made me happy. I knew that her transformation from street thug to starving artist wouldn’t be easy, but she was working on it.

  School was going to start soon, and Niya insisted that I go into my first year of college as the “fly bitch” that I already was. She seemed too happy to take us shopping, so after a few days of trying to stop her, I gave in. As I waited for Niya and Smiley to pick me up so we could go shopping, a few words came to mind. I pulled out my notebook and jotted them down.

  It was all fate, the way we met,

  On a hot Brooklyn night.

  Her eyes blazing, with both our souls for the taking.

  I sat, as if I was waiting . . . for her.

  Hurt filled the air, and while hers was splattered for all to see, mine was hidden within the pages she would later read.

  The anger, the hurtful words, that hot Brooklyn night were all meant to be.

  Niya, my love, fate was at play, and thank God we didn’t stop to learn the rules to the game of true love.

  You are, I am, we are what the Gods have aligned and this . . . you and me . . . was all meant to be!

  As they pulled up, I put my yellow notebook away, stood up, and walked to the curb. Niya got out of the car and gave me my daily hug, and I melted right into it. There was just something about the way she would squeeze me tight, as if she had missed me. It was funny how I would miss her in just the few hours she would be gone. It was getting to the point where I couldn’t bear to be without her; it was as if something was missing when she was not near. I lingered in her arms and breathed in her scent. As she let me go, I snapped out of it. I stepped into the car and said hello to Smiley. She didn’t seem to be in the best of moods, so I bobbed my head to the music and went back to my thoughts.

  Chapter 32

  Niya

  The summer was fleeting, and our vacation was coming to an end. I had spent every moment I could with Jamilla. It was as if I couldn’t breathe without her being near. When I wasn’t with her, no matter what I was doing, thoughts of her seeped into my brain. I wondered what she was doing, if she had eaten, whether she was smiling, if she was having a good day. With my love for her growing with each passing moment, I wasn’t sure how long I was going to be able to be around her without breaking. Her smile was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Each time I saw her was like the very first time I ever laid eyes on her. My mouth would go dry; my heart would race. I would secretly steal deep breaths, hoping that this would calm my nerves. I was trying so hard to embed that “She’s straight” shit in my head, but it just wouldn’t stick.

  As I watched her and Smiley shop, it was as if she was the only one in the store. After that night with her and Smiley and our escapade in the bathroom, all I wanted to do was fuck her . . . really fuck her, but Smiley was around more now too. At times, things would feel a little weird. I could tell that Smiley’s feelings for me were growing, and truth was, my feelings for her were growing too, but Jamilla was still the one. I still needed to talk to Smiley about the incident with my mother, but I kept putting it off. It was embarrassing enough. Plus, how did you tell someone that she or he should have jumped in shit to help you out? What Jamilla did for my family that day hadn’t gone unnoticed. She now held this special space in my heart that no one could touch.

  A month had passed since that night, yet my mind was consumed with thoughts of Jamilla—on my bed, on her back, in the bathroom, and on the sink. Watching her touch herself and me touching her . . . My thoughts were all about her. I tried to shake that shit, but just like the imprint Jamilla had left behind on my heart, thoughts of that night were stuck in my brain.

  “You like this, boo?”

  Smiley was modeling a new dress for me. I took a quick glance at her and told her that I liked it. She had interrupted my thoughts of that night, and I was a bit annoyed. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but my infatuation with Jamilla was starting to become unhealthy. I was annoyed more with myself than with Smiley. I knew that her feelings were hurt, so I got up and entered her dressing room.

  “Baby, you looked sexy as fuck in that dress. Don’t mind me. I was dumb not to notice them thick-ass legs and that nice ass. My bad, boo,” I told her.

  I walked up on her and wrapped my arms around her and gave her ass a squeeze. I kissed her neck and waited for the tension to leave her body, but it didn’t. She pushed me off her and rolled her eyes.

  “What’s wrong, boo? I said I was sorry.”

  She sucked her teeth and turned away from me and began to get dressed. As I turned to leave her dressing room, I heard her speak.

  “You act like you don’t know what the fuck is wrong. I bet if I was—”

  “What is taking so long?” Jamilla said as she peeked into the dressing room, cutting Smiley off in mid-sentence.

  I was not sure if Jamilla felt it, but the tension in there was as thick as hell. I stood there, not knowing what to say, but knowing that there was much that needed to be said. I just stood there while Smiley got dressed. I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do with these two. I knew that Smiley really liked Jamilla, but she was also able to tell that things were different when she was around. I tried to give them equal attention when they both were with me, but it didn’t always work out that way.

  The drive home wasn’t any better. Smiley clearly had an attitude. No matter how hard Jamilla tried to make conversation, she was met with a cold shoulder from Smiley. Once we got back to my building, I gave Smiley the key to my apartment and told her to wait there for me. Once Smiley was out of the car, Jamilla couldn’t wait to ask me what was wrong.

  “I really don’t know, but I am going to try to find out,” I half lied.

  As I sat there with Jamilla, thoughts of touching her started to creep into my head. She had on these little shorts that I had got her just so I could see her in them. Her toffee-colored thighs had my mouth watering. As I looked down at her legs, I also tried my hardest to see that pussy print. Damn. I wanted this girl. Licking and touching her were no longer enough. I wanted to taste what was between her thighs. I wanted to feel her hand behind my head as I licked her until she screamed. I had to do something. I felt as if insanity wasn’t too far away. My eyes traveled up and down her body as she rambled on about not understanding why Smiley was upset. I had tuned her out, only to hear the last of her words.

  “Look, I can’t tell you what happened between this morning and now,” I said. “I think that you should just chill out for the rest of the night and give me some time just to talk to her.”

  My tone came out a bit harsher than I would have liked, but I couldn’t help it. I had found myself drowning in thoughts of her, while it was apparent that her mind was on other things and not on me, and this bothered me.

  She gave me a weird look before she went to open the car door. “It’s cool. I have some packing to do.”

  I tried to stop her by reaching for her hand, but she just shook it off.

  “L
eave my stuff in the trunk. I’ll get it later,” she said before getting out of the car and walking away.

  Chapter 33

  Jamilla

  I sat in my room, wondering what had just happened. We had all been fine this morning. Sure, Smiley had been a bit quiet in the car, but we all got that way sometimes. The funny thing was, no matter how badly I’d wanted to try to act as if I didn’t know what was going on, I’d known. I had caught it a few times, a look, a smirk, a quick show of annoyance. Smiley and Niya seemed to have gone from friends to—I didn’t know—girlfriends perhaps. Hell, I didn’t know what to call them. They said that what they had didn’t have a label, but I wished they would make things clear. I’d tried to give them space, but Niya was always insisting that I was there. At times, I wondered if she secretly wanted a round two of that night. Oh boy. That night, the night that still lingered in the air.

  I tried my hardest not to think about that night, but some part of me, a part that was foreign to me, wanted to reenact that night, but just with Niya. I would never let her know that, nor would I ever try it again, but . . . damn. I also thought about her touching me in her bathroom. That one really got to me, because it was just me and her. The one thing that I wished she would have done was to kiss me. See, that was where the confusing part came in. I knew that I wasn’t gay—there was no way that I would ever go down on another girl—but with Niya . . . She made me want her. She made me want simple little things from her, like just a little kiss.

  “Jamilla, where are you?”

  I rolled my eyes when I heard my mother’s voice. I didn’t answer. Instead, I just waited for her to find me.

  “Why you no say nothing? You did not hear me call you?” she said when she reached my bedroom door.

  “Sorry. I was packing,” I answered. Not that packing would stop me from hearing her.

  “So, you go out all the time now, eh? All day you out now with that gay girl. I don’t like no gay friend for you, Jamilla. You hear me? That gay stuff so nasty. People will look at you like you gay too.”

  There was so much I wanted to say to the woman I called Mom, but instead I just asked, “Mom, was there something that you needed?”

  My mother sat down on my bed and just stared and sucked her teeth. I wasn’t going to force her to speak, so I just went on with my packing. When she was tired of being ignored, she spoke up.

  “Mwen pa renmen chanjman sa kap pase nan kay mwen an. You changing, and it’s no good. I want to know why he make Marie go to the couch and you sleep here now.”

  She didn’t like the changes that were being made in her house? I just prayed to God that I kept my cool. I just continued to fold and pack my clothes.

  “Jamilla, you hear me? Why he so nice with you now? You do something to him?”

  Keeping cool went out the window.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? For years, he has been the one doing stuff to me, and now, because he’s finally acting right, you think that I did something?”

  “Oh, so you do something to him? Ay, I know you not sex my husband in my house. You go after your own mother’s boyfriend?”

  I had to stop myself from reaching out and slapping her clear across the face. “You crazy, selfish bitch, you—” I got in her face to make sure that she would hear me well. “Your husband has had his hands in my pussy since the day he asked you to marry him. For years I have tried to tell you, but no. You—”

  “Oh, shut up. You have sex with boys, and now you blame my husband. He would never do something like that.”

  “Yes the fuck he did. From the day you told me that you were going to marry him, he has been touching me. He—” She turned to leave, but I grabbed her arms and turned her back around. “Don’t you dare walk out on me. I am your daughter. What that man did to me, it killed me. Can’t you see that?”

  I waited and prayed that my words were seeping into her head, and not only her head, but also her heart. Something had to give between us. I loved my mother, and I needed her, but the things she had said and hadn’t done made me hate her at times.

  “You go out with your boyfriends and let them touch you. Afterward, you say it’s my husband? You want to whore your body with them boys, that’s fine, but don’t put it on my man.”

  “Mom, how could you say that? You know that I don’t whore myself out. I have had only one boyfriend.”

  My body was shaking from hurt and anger. I needed this woman to understand me, to believe me, but she just wasn’t listening with her heart.

  “So what you tell me? You virgin? No, let me see.” My mother charged me and pushed down me on the bed. She got on top of me and yanked at my shorts.

  “Come on. You such a good girl, show me you virgin.”

  “Get off of me!”

  We rolled around on the bed as she tried to get my shorts off. I couldn’t understand what was going on. I had only heard stories, my mother’s stories, of having to get “tested” by her mother while she was growing up. Her mother would make her and her sister lie down on their back once a month so she could make sure that they were still virgins. I wasn’t quite sure how she tested them, but my mother did tell us that her mother would stick fingers inside of her. Well, that shit wasn’t going down with me. I fought and screamed until Marie came into the room.

  “What’s going on in here?” Marie muttered.

  “Help me, Marie. Hold her legs. Hurry. Hold them,” my mother urged.

  I tried to fight even harder. I spit vile words at both of them. I called them all kinds of molesting bitches. I kicked, I clawed, and I fought for as long as I could.

  “No! Get off of me! Please, no, you fucking bitch!” I yelled as I felt my shorts coming off.

  I could feel Marie’s hands around my ankles, and I tried my best to kick her in her face. When my mother could no longer control my hands, I watched her climb on top of me, and after that, I felt her weight on my chest. I could hardly breathe as I cried for help.

  “Louvri janm li.”

  Marie pushed my legs open and held them in place. As I tried to push my mother off of me, the smile on Marie’s face could not be missed. She was enjoying my agony. It pleased her to see me cry and scream, to watch my mother violate me.

  As my mother’s fingers slid inside of me, she told me how she really felt about me.

  “Uh-huh, just like I thought. You are a dirty whore who is sleeping with the no-good American hoodlums out there. You are a dirty girl, just a nasty whore.”

  I lay there numb, void of any emotions. I didn’t even feel her fingers anymore. I could no longer feel anything, not even the life that still roamed inside of me.

  “You see that, Marie? That is what a whore’s vagina looks like. Push it open. You see that. For years she tried to tell me lies. Now look at this. She is no virgin. She let boys have her body. Look at it. Make sure you no have no whore vagina.”

  “What in the hell is going on here?” said a male voice.

  My mother got off my chest but told Marie to hold my legs open. “She is a whore. I check her, and her vagina open. She no virgin.”

  “You can’t do this. Marie, let her go. This is not Haiti. You cannot do stuff like this,” he said.

  Lying there, I just began to laugh. The irony of the situation was killing me. There he stood, the man who had been molesting me from a tender young age, yet that day, he was the voice of reason.

  I looked at all three of them, and as tears from the pain that I knew would never leave my soul wet my pillow, I laughed. I laughed at the smirk on Marie’s face; I laughed at my mother’s pain. The pain from what her mother had done to her. I knew it. I had seen it when she told me about her mother testing her each month, and now she had passed that pain on to me. Why? Because I had told her the truth about her husband. And finally, I laughed at my stepdad. He knew that what my mother had done was wrong, yet for years he had done the same thing. Fuck one. Fuck all. I hated each and every one of them.

  One by one they left my room, my mot
her being the last. As laughter merged with my tears, she spoke.

  “If you try to take my husband, I will kill you. You are a whore. Continue to sex your boyfriends. Stay away from my husband. I see he is nice to you now. If I catch you with him, I will kill you.”

  Once she left my room and closed the door, my first thought was to call Niya, but what good would that do? She would want to kill my mother and Marie, for that matter. Plus, how could I tell her that my own mother had had her fingers inside of me? And like a ton of bricks, it all hit me. The pain from her roaming fingers, the scar from my own mother calling me a whore, the damage from my very own existence—they all crashed down on me, and without the refuge of laughter, I cried. I howled. I screamed. And at the end of it all, another little piece of me was dead and gone.

  Chapter 34

  Niya

  I sat across from Smiley and just stared at her. I had a lot that I wanted to say, but I didn’t want it to come out the wrong way.

  “So, what’s your problem?” I asked as I sipped on a cup of vodka. I was annoyed and was trying to watch my temper.

  “Oh, you know what’s wrong.”

  I rolled my eyes and sucked my teeth. I was growing tired of her games. My mind was on Jamilla. I reached for my phone and texted her and waited.

  “So, that’s what you’re gonna do? You’re just gonna sit there and play with your phone?”

  I took a long swig of the vodka and just sat there looking at her. I was trying to see the things in her that I had always liked, like how laid back she used to be, but I couldn’t really see them. I picked my phone back up and took a look to see if Jamilla had hit me back. Still . . . nothing.

  “You know what? I am so tired of this shit. I don’t even know why we are trying.”

  “Oh, you’re trying?” My tone was very sarcastic, and at that moment, I didn’t give a shit.