Memphis Streets 2 (Urban)

Chapter 40- Monica

My babies Malcolm, Amin, and Vivian act like they don't remember me. That shit has thrown me for a loop as I watch them run around the park. They each treat me like I'm a stranger trying to offer them bad candy or some shit.

"Don't worry," Ms. Murphy says.

"Give them more time." I cut my gaze back at her as she sits next to me on the park bench.

"Don't play me. Y'all got to be turning them against me. Malcolm and Amin are six and seven. Why wouldn't they remember me?"

"They remember. They were five and six when the state took them. They're not going to make it easy for you."

Ms. Murphy sighs. "Vivian is another story. She's probably following her brothers' lead on this."

I shake my head and cross my arms.

"This is some bullshit."

Ms. Murphy draws in a deep breath. "Look, Ms. Terry. I know this is hard on you, but you got to know that it's even harder on them. So far your children have been bounced around from one foster home to another. Your boys are showing signs of ADHD in school and lean toward violence when they don't get their way in certain situations."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm a bad mother. I got it."

I roll my eyes up to the sky, but it's not enough to stop the tears from streaking down my face. I'm a complete fuckup, with my kids, with Snake, and even with taking out Le'Shelle's evil ass. Shit. I can't do nothing right. Let everybody else tell it.

"Ms. Terry, are you all right?"

"Yeah."

I backhand the tears off my face and return my attention to my children. Despite ignoring me, they look like they're having a great time running around chasing each other. Little Vivian is holding her own. Now more than ever, I'm happy that I named her after Shi. Even though there's no blood relation, it's still a little reminder that Baby was once here. Vivian's big brown eyes settle on me before she races across the grass to come and talk with me.

"Careful," I say.

"You don't want to fall down."

"Malcolm says that we're going home with you," Vivian says, sounding way more grown than her three and half years.

"Well ... not yet," I tell her. "I'm working on it."

"If you're our momma, why can't we go home with you?" I glance over at Ms. Murphy, looking for some help, but she just quietly folds her arms and lets me handle the question.

"It's a long story," I tell Vivian. My little girl blinks up at me like she has nothing but time to wait for my answer.

"Well, Momma just had a little problem being able to ... afford taking care of y'all right now."

"I got some money in my piggy bank," she says.

"I can give you some."

"That's sweet of you, honey. But you go ahead and keep your money. Okay?" Vivian twists up her face.

"What? You don't want us, then?"

"Of course I do. I didn't say that."

"Uh-huh."

More tears spring to my eyes while shame spreads throughout my body. My ass has been out in these streets, worried about the wrong things—locking down soldiers and trying to become the head Queen G.