I found myself going towards the west side of the city. The closer I got to the projects I once called home the more knots formed in my belly. I have to see her. As I pulled up in the parking lot of the building where we used to live, it resembled a ghost town. There were no trees or grass, there was no beauty within the vicinity. The night fell upon the city with light rain as I parked my car.
Before exiting, I paused to gather myself. I was about to walk the same soil that a young girl was murdered on because of some bullshit concerning me. I took a deep breath and grabbed my umbrella to get out of the car. I saw two people coming out of the building I was approaching, neither of which I recognized.
I didn’t want to go in. Memories of my childhood began pouring in. I didn’t know what to do. I swore I’d never return to these projects and here I am. I still felt the need to reach out to my mother. I would at least give her my sincere concern for her health. I began to look around for someone I knew. But very few were out in this rain. As I set about walking to the entrance of the building, my stomach became flooded with butterflies. Just before I went to grab the door handle, it swung open. I had to jump back to prevent getting hit. It was Ms. Regina from the fourteenth floor.
“Girl, is dat you?” she screamed, immediately recognizing me. She looked as if she just learned she was on candid camera. I nodded.
“Where yo’ momma at? I was just coming here to look for her,” she continued screaming. Years of hard living had caught up to her. Her skin had darkened and blotted spots had developed around her face.
“I was just coming to see her. When was the last time you’ve seen her?”
“Bobbi just told me she went to da chicken pit up the block. She should be on her way back. She got my money, she said she needed ta’ get change. Dat was like a hour ago,” Ms. Regina informed. “Girl, you know you is pretty as hell! I know yo man is taking care of dat ass. You look good! Let me hold a lil’ something. And don’t tell me you ain’t got it ‘cause you looking real clean…too clean to say you ain’t!” She hit me with the crackhead hustle.
I wasn’t beat for it so I replied, “Ms. Regina, I don’t mean no disrespect, I just need to see my mother. It’s a family emergency. If you see her, tell her I’m out here looking for her.” I didn’t wait for a response. I walked off.
I drove to the chicken pit. It was your typical, around the way take-out restaurant with the word “chicken” in the name. They sold everything from fried chicken, to burgers, to sodas, to blunts. It was a hole in the wall but artery-clogging food was always delicious and eagerly available in the hood.
I walked in the restaurant and saw just a few people. It was dark out and a weekday so there weren’t many people out. A tall, slender guy with the nappiest mounting afro was at the counter ordering his food. He kept eyeing the pictures on the menu that were displayed above the register.
“Ummm…Ummm…Ummm…let me get a… Ummm…Ummm…Ummm…let me get a… Ummm…Ummm…Ummm…let me get a…” he mumbled repeatedly as if he had no clue what he wanted—or as if the menu ever changed.
Then there was a chubby—no—a plain ol’ fat woman whose skin tone was so dark she looked blue. She wore white leggings and her skin color pervaded through them, not to mention the rolls in her belly and the fact that her thighs were so big that her feet were like five feet apart when she stood. She had a little girl with her that could be no more than three years old. The little girl ran around the restaurant doing imaginary play with her pretty bows and barrettes. Her hair was braided masterfully.
I then noticed an old, gray haired, soiled, and indigent man sitting on the ledge of the window. He was dosing in and out of consciousness. I wondered how was it that he hadn’t hit the floor with all the tilting he was doing.
I was back at home. Blah! What a dose of reality.