"But you gotta keep going, you just gotta keep going."
_
As my presence stood in our bedroom, I sat on the window seal of the very window that sat across from our bed. Down below, Mama and Mr. Omar were outside talking with a few police officers. I assumed it was about the store.
The last couple of days, I hadn't been speaking to her. I'd just walk right pass her and when she'd say something to me, I wouldn't respond. I couldn't stand the fact that she was helping out Mr. Omar. I understood it was okay and a good thing to help out a friend, but how could you help out someone else, when you couldn't even help yourself?
We were struggling. Hard. How could she not be aware of that? Was it hard to miss the fact that we hardly had any food, especially money? Don't get me wrong, I loved my mother dearly but sometimes I just didn't understand her actions. I just didn't understand why she did some of the things she did.
Mama came back up to the room with a smile resting upon her face. "Well, we got those fools arrested. Now, we won't have to worry about nobody breaking into the store. That's a good thing right?"
I didn't answer her. Just kept staring out of the window.
"You talk to Mr. Swisher today?" She breathed heavily. "Heard he was looking for you."
Still, no answer from me.
"Jayme." Mama walked over to where I had been seated, placing her right hand upon my left shoulder. "I threw away the uh---the stuff you seen in the plastic bags. I shouldn't have let you seen that."
I didn't care for the words her tongue pushed. She promised me her use of drugs was forever gone. That she would no longer consume. But, one thing I learned about an addict was that they just wouldn't throw their addiction away so easily. It'd usually take the grace of God to stray from.
"Listen," She went on. "I'm sorry that you don't want to believe that I've been helping out Omar. But, I'm doing what's best. He needs me, and he has helped me, so I'm gonna help him, okay? That doesn't mean that I'm not working on us, and trying to make things better for us. Cause I am."
I turned towards her, looking her deep in the eyes. I felt myself falling for yet another promise.
"Jay, talk to me." Mama released profound breaths. "What are you feeling? I can see that something is bothering you."
"You know what I'm feeling, Mama? I'm tired, okay?I'm really tired." My voice cracked while releasing those words.
"Jayme." She whispered. "Then go to sleep, child."
"No, mama." My voice rose, my heart ached. "What kinda sleep gon' fix this? Ain't nothin' changing 'round here and you think helping Omar is cool?"
"Listen, Jayme--" She attempted to respond to me, but my rage only continued to impede her words.
"Man, ion even care no more." I waved her off. "I'm gonna go talk to Mr. Swisher." I walked through the living room and out of the door. Finding myself in our building's hallway, I then knocked upon Mr. Swisher's door in a hurry to see his presence.
"Hey, you alri-" He asked, after opening his home's door and spotting my facial expressions.
"Can you sit with me, Mr. Swisher? Can we watch the birds, and talk about how they're flying, and talk about how they hum?" Instantly, words began to fall from my mouth in a hurried motion. "Can't we just sit and talk about them damn birds?!"
"Hey---slow down." He walked through his doorway. "What's going on?! Are you alright, young lady?!"
"I just need somebody to talk to." Tears surrounded my pupils. For awhile now, I had been trying to be that girl that never complained about my lifestyle. But, I couldn't help but to become fed up. It had been years of struggle after struggle. Years of Mama feeding her body with drugs that only wanted to put her in a grave. When was enough gonna be enough?
