In My Shoes Page 6

  Being at Sumner High for almost a month, I knew we’d made the right choice. And when Mama bought a new Dodge Aries for us to get to and from school, people started to get friendly. Even the boys, too. I’d given my phone number to a boy in my sixth hour class named Omar and we hooked up.

  My attraction to Omar was how smart he was. It helped that he was in good shape, and playing on the football team was always a plus. His lips were thick, he had a smooth chocolate brown complexion and I hadn’t seen anyone at Sumner High who had flowing neatly-cut waves on their head like him. Since Mama continued to work nights, I was able to communicate with Omar over the phone almost every evening. He had a great personality, a quirky sense of humor, and when he admitted to being a straight A student, I was overjoyed with my choice.

  Hours of conversation, and getting to know each other better, ended a relationship that Omar had with a chick named Theresa. I’d gotten myself a boyfriend and hadn’t been this excited about a boy since Winston. Either way, the news hit fast…Omar dissed the city girl for the light-skinned county girl from Hazelwood East. It sure was a way to get popular fast because so many people had approached me about Omar and I being an item. My newly found popularity added to Jesse and me gaining more friends, and the more friends we had the more trouble it caused. The lies to Mama continued and we damn near lived in the streets. It wasn’t long before drinking alcohol came into the picture, but drugs were left for a specific few. Crown Royal made me never want to drink again, but Colt 45 forty ounces became a favorite.

  After school, Jesse and our new crew made it a habit to stop at the liquor store and find someone who would purchase liquor for us. At times, it was difficult making it on time to pick up Mama from work, who sometimes got off early. Using tic-tacs to calm our breaths didn’t help and Mama let it be known that she knew what the hell was going on.

  “Brenda, you and Jesse need to be ashamed of yourselves. Are y’all drunk?” she asked while riding on the passenger side of the car and lighting a cigarette.

  My mouth opened, but not too wide because I’d confirm her suspicions. “Ain’t nobody been drinking, Mama. I don’t know what that smell is.” I eyeballed Jesse in the rearview mirror and she had a smirk on her face.

  Mama blew the smoke out of her mouth, continuing to glare at me. “Y’all got a lot to learn about life. When the two of you fall flat on your faces, don’t look for me to be there to pick you up. Y’all some lying ass kids. I be glad when y’all grow up and get it together!”

  It was times like this when I’d learned to keep my mouth shut. I looked at Jesse, again, and she cut her eyes as Mama ranted all the way home. Before returning to bed that night, she made us scrub the kitchen floor that was already clean. And after lying to her about the alcohol, and having hangovers, we swore that we would never, ever drink again, but the pact didn’t last too long.

  ***

  My relationship with Omar started to get interesting. One of my classmates told me that he was expecting a baby. I didn’t mention anything to him because rumors were exactly what they were—rumors. There were so many rumors going around at Sumner High that you didn’t know who or what to believe. For one, some people often referred to Jesse and me as ho’s, and even though I’d had five-minute sex with Winston and Victor Smith, a senior at Riverview Gardens High School, I suspected Jesse was still a virgin. I didn’t quite understand how we’d gained such a reputation, but as out of control as we’d gotten, people were left to assume. Jesse’s first boyfriend, Jeff, encouraged us not to let the rumors affect us. He was known for drinking, getting high, fighting and even killing, but he insisted that the rumors about his character weren’t exactly true. As cocky as Jeff was, I wasn’t sure what to believe. Jesse had him by her side for protection, and being around him made us feel safe. We gravitated to boys who were popular, rough around the edges and who could be classified to some as thugs.

  Omar was no thug, but I liked him. I was ready to take our relationship to another level. My popularity brought about much pressure and it wasn’t as if I hadn’t had sex before. Besides, everybody I knew, with the exception of Jesse, was having sex. Sex was no big deal to me and all it meant at the time was opening my legs to let a boy get his nut. With that in mind, my first experience with Omar took place on Rita’s birthday while Mama was away at work. Omar arrived around seven o’clock that evening, wearing a baseball cap, his letterman jacket and a pair of stone-washed jeans. I was happy to see him, but still a bit sad because I hadn’t heard from Rita.

  Always knowing how to perk me up, Omar’s jokes made me smile. We sat on my bed and talked about his plans after graduating from high school.

  “I know I’m going to get a scholarship. Not really sure what school I’m going to yet, but college is definitely in my plans. What about you? What are you going to do when you graduate from school next year?”

  I shrugged, not having a clue. Mama was already complaining about the money she had been paying back for Rita’s student loans, so going to college didn’t seem possible. “I really don’t know yet. I’m sure I’ll find a job or something, but I doubt that I’ll be going to college. Besides, my grades aren’t all that great.”

  Omar sat silent for a moment, and then he leaned in for a kiss. Following the kiss, the lights went out. Like with Winston and Victor, I expected Omar to use a condom, but he insisted that he didn’t have one. Neither did I, but that didn’t seem to deter us.

  “Forget a condom. I want to feel it,” he said, lying on top of me in the pitch-black room. “I’ll pull out when I get ready to come.”

  “You promise,” I asked a bit skeptical, as well as dumbfounded. I figured when he came that he would pull out, but as he lay on top of my stiff body, that barely moved, I wasn’t so sure. I lay staring at the ceiling, unable to get into the rhythm he had chosen. Didn’t really know what I was doing, but was basically “giving it up” because I thought I was pleasing him. I never left my sexual encounters feeling satisfied and I doubted that the boys I’d been with were satisfied either. Sex was just sex to me, and I honestly did not understand the hype.

  Nearly ten minutes in, the phone rang off the hook. Since Jesse was gone, and I knew it was probably Rita, I interrupted Omar.

  “I have to answer that. It may be my mama,” I said.

  Omar moved over in bed next to me, and I felt for the phone on the floor to answer it. To no surprise, it was Rita. I scooted to the edge of the bed, talking to her for about fifteen minutes. I was so glad to hear she’d been doing well and she assured me that she was coming home soon. After we ended our call, I turned to Omar who was already up and putting on his clothes.

  “Are you leaving already?” I asked, feeling sticky between my legs.

  “Yeah, I gotta get my mom’s car back to her. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Within the hour, Omar was gone. He didn’t even call me when he got home, and the next day at school, he seemed rather distant. During our lunch period, instead of eating lunch with me, he ate with his boys. Towards the end of the day, I saw him talking to his ex-girlfriend by her sewing class. I was boiling with anger. Not again, I thought. No way was this happening to me again and what was up with getting dissed all the damn time by boys? I wasted no time confronting him.

  “So, what’s up with you?” I asked, walking down the hall with him. “Why are you playing me shady?”

  He laughed and held my hand as we made our way to class. “You trippin’. I was just asking her about something, that’s all.”

  I could feel something wasn’t right with Omar, but I felt that giving up the goodies would bring us closer. That was in no way the case. As the days passed, he became more distant.

  ***

  During the next several weeks, my body started feeling strange. Every morning, I felt sluggish and sick to my stomach. I vomited on the way to school, and if not then, right before first hour. I thought all the drinking I’d been doing had finally caught up with me, but when I missed my period, reality kicke
d in. At sixteen years old, I was pregnant! Pregnant and confused as hell! I thought one thing, I ain’t telling nobody! Maybe Omar, but that was it. I also thought about Mama. She was going to kill me or kick my ass out of the house. Until I figured out what to do, I had to avoid her. I’d thought about telling Jesse and Rita, but that was just a thought. What would they think? I was the baby girl and this wasn’t supposed to happen to me. Why me and what in the hell was I going to do with a baby? Thoughts of having an abortion crossed my mind, but since I didn’t have money for one, an abortion was out of the question.

  I had a few conversations with Omar over the phone, but couldn’t find the right time to tell him. He was either too busy to talk, or always had something to do. For some reason or another, I kind of thought he knew because he was acting just as strange as I was. During one of our conversations, we made plans to meet up at his house after school on Friday. That would be the perfect opportunity for me to break the news.

  Friday came in a flash. Jesse dropped me off at Omar’s house and she and Dana went to Tanesha’s house. Dressed in my blue jeans, legs warmers and sweater, I climbed the red concrete steps that led to Omar’s front door and knocked. My hands were shaking like leaves. They were also sweaty, so I eased them into my front pockets to stop them from trembling. My bottom lip was sucked into my mouth and I took deep breaths to stay calm. Omar opened the door with the phone pressed up to his ear. He invited me to sit on a plaid sofa and continued his conversation in another room. My eyes searched the living room. I looked at pictures of Omar and his mother that hung on a wall. There were a lot of whatnots around the room and an old floor model TV sat in the far corner. The carpet was a fuzzy brown, and even though the house itself was pretty old, everything appeared to be neat and in order.

  Minutes later, Omar came back into the living room, where I remained on the couch thinking deeply about our baby. When he mentioned sex, I was in no mood. Had too much on my mind, and I couldn’t believe that after a few minutes of him lying on top of me, it had resulted to this.

  “I’m going to the kitchen to make me a sandwich,” he said. “Want one?”

  “No,” I said, rubbing my sweaty palms on my jeans. “When you get finished, though, I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  Always being playful, once Omar finished making his sandwich, he sat on my lap, teasing me with it. He could tell I wasn’t in the mood, so he finally slid over to the spot next to me, giving me his attention.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a sandwich?” He asked. “It’s good and you don’t know what you’re missing.”

  I opened my mouth to take a tiny bite of his sandwich, but he snatched it away. We both laughed and when I tried to take another bite, he did the same thing again. I knew Omar was trying to ease the tension. He could tell I had something heavy on my mind.

  “Can you be serious for one minute,” I suggested. “I have something very important I need to get at you about.”

  Omar chilled and rested his arms on top of the couch. “Shoot, Brenda, what’s on your mind?”

  I sighed. The thoughts of what I had to say caused water to rush to the brim of my eyes. “I…I wanted to tell you that I missed my period this month—and the month before. I’ve been really sick,” I paused, as the stone-faced look on Omar’s face made me fidget. He didn’t respond, just rubbed his hands on his wavy hair. “Omar, did you hear me?”

  “Yeah, I heard you. Do you think you’re pregnant?”

  I nodded. “Uh-huh. I really do.”

  Omar pointed to his chest. “Is it mine?”

  My brows went up. “Who else could it be?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you. If you

  say it’s mine, then I’ll just have to take care of it.”

  On that note, our conversation about the baby was over! Omar changed the subject and it wasn’t long before I called Jesse to come get me.

  I thought hard about my situation that night, and cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. I wrote for hours in my notebook, circling every tear that had dropped on my paper: Why me? I can’t be nobody’s mama. How am I going to take care of this baby? Omar sure as hell ain’t gonna help. I sure hope that I’m wrong because I can’t do this all by myself. Not by myself. Maybe he’ll ask me to marry him, so me, him and the baby can be a family. Then, I doubt that ‘cause he be messing around with those other girls too. What do he get from those other girls that he can’t get from me? I don’t know, but I do know that Mama ain’t going to be happy about this. She is going to disown me when she finds out and where will I live when she put me out? I got myself in a big mess and I gotta be the one to clean it up…

  Writing my thoughts helped me to release my emotions, and when there was no one to talk to about what I was going through, putting the pen to the paper worked just fine. I wasn’t sure what I’d do with a baby at seventeen, which I would be that age before the baby came. But I’d known some girls at Sumner High School who’d had more than one baby. Omar said he’d help me take care of the baby, but something inside of me didn’t believe him.

  The next morning, my eyes were red and swollen from crying so much. Mama couldn’t help but notice, and when she asked what was wrong, I told her I wasn’t feeling well. I wanted to tell her the truth, but I didn’t want to be homeless with a baby on the way.

  During the next several weeks at school, I tried to keep my pregnancy a secret, but some of my friends noticed I was gaining weight. They kept asking me, but I denied it to everyone. Still, the news was circulating, and rumors about Omar having another baby on the way were circulating, too. His phone calls diminished, his walking me to my classes came to a complete halt, and he did his best to avoid me. Some days, the only time I would see him would be in sixth hour, and because of his work, he never said much to me in that class to begin with.

  Eventually, I started skipping sixth hour because I couldn’t stand to be in his presence. I couldn’t believe how his whole tune had changed, once I told him I was pregnant. My friend, Tanesha, confirmed everything for me, when she discussed my situation with Omar in her first hour class. Bottom line, he wasn’t interested in me, the baby wasn’t his, and his only concern was graduating and going to college. I was truly devastated, but there wasn’t nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t make him be a daddy if he didn’t want to be, and as far as I was concerned, this was now my problem, not his.

  The last few weeks of school, I avoided Omar and he avoided me. We walked by each other in the hallways, as if our relationship had never existed. The only reason I attended the 1984 graduation ceremony was because Jesse had made it through. I was so proud that at least one of us made it out of high school and we both knew that it was a tough year, especially with me getting pregnant. I still had one year to go, but there was no way I would return to school. Jesse didn’t say much about the pregnancy, but considering my situation, she didn’t think I’d return to school either.

  Chapter Six

  Over the summer, and only four months before the baby was expected, I spent many days hanging around the house with Mama. I wore big shirts and baggy jeans, in hopes that she wouldn’t notice my sudden weight gain. She questioned me about my weight, but I just couldn’t break her heart. Every day she’d complain about me eating too much, but not once did she suspect I was pregnant.

  Getting worried about my weight gain, finally, Mama called the doctor and made an appointment for me. She said there had to be a reason why I’d picked up so much weight, and she wanted to know the reason. The night before my appointment, I tossed and turned all night. I promised myself I’d tell her in the morning, and had even written a letter to give to her. But when morning came, I kept the letter in my pocket, where it stayed.

  We arrived at the doctor’s office around nine o’clock that morning. The words almost came out of my mouth in the waiting area, but once again, I failed to tell her. Soon, the nurse called my name and Mama went into the examination room with me. With a
n extremely wide belly, I sat jittery on the examination table, biting my nails and fidgeting. I was under enormous pressure and had no idea how Mama would handle the news. She sat in a chair beside me, complaining about her rough days at work.

  “I’m getting sick and tired of that old job,” she griped. “They working me to death and all I do is work, work, work. I wish I had some money saved for a long vacation, but all I got is ten damn dollars in the bank. All I do is work to pay bills; bills that just keep on piling up. Something has got to give.”

  I felt horrible, because even though we didn’t have much, Mama had worked her ass off to keep a roof over our heads. As much as we’d talked that morning, the real reason why we were at the doctor’s office never came out of my mouth. The doctor came in, inquiring about our purpose for the visit.

  Mama quickly spoke up. “Dr. Paris, Brenda is picking up a lot of weight. I was wondering if you’d run some test on her to see what’s going on. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

  I shamefully lowered my head, continuing to bite my nails. Dr. Paris lifted my chin and stared into my eyes. He smiled, but my face remained flat. He then scooted a chair in front of me and turned to Mama.

  “Just by looking at Brenda, I can tell she’s pregnant. Now, I’ll run some test to be sure, but I’m almost positive.”

  “Pregnant?” Mama shouted and jumped to her feet. Her head snapped in my direction and I’ll never forget the serious hurt I saw in her eyes that day. “Bre…Brenda, you ain’t pregnant, are you?”

  I kept my head lowered, slowly nodding. As many tears trickled down my face, Mama dropped back on the chair in disbelief, but more so denial. Dr. Paris excused himself, leaving Mama and me in the room. She awaited a response from me.