Skye Smith:
“Okay baby, you’re going to this little program today while mommy goes and handles some business okay,” I told my son, Jordan. He sucked his teeth. “I don’t want to go to no funky program ma. I want to stay with you,” he fussed back. I sighed and threw my head back in exhaustion.
“Come sit down next to me on the couch sweetie,” I said, patting the torn cushion of the couch. He huffed and puffed and dragged himself over to me. Instead of sitting down, he stood in front of me with a sad look on his face.
I grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I have to go handle some business okay? I’m trying to find a job. Don’t you want me to have a job so I can have some money?” I asked him, tickling his stomach. He laughed. “Yes.”
I got up and grabbed his book bag full toys. I tossed the back onto one of my shoulders and grabbed his hand. His stomach growled. “I’m hungry ma…” he told me. My heart started to ache when he said that. We didn’t have anything in the fridge for me to make him real quick before I dropped him off at this program.
“We’ll get something from the corner store before we get on the bus.” He nodded his head and grabbed on tighter to my hand. I smiled at him and opened the door so we could leave. When I turned around to lock the apartment door, I noticed a note on the door. I snatched it off knowing exactly what it was for. It was for the rent. I balled the note up and stuffed it in my purse.
“Ma, can I get something to drink to?” Jordan asked after he picked up a bag of chips. I dug in my pockets and pulled out all the money I had. I only counted $1.50. “Um, hold on let me check my bag for more money,” I answered. I dug through my purse. I felt around and luckily found a 5 dollar bill. “Yeah go ahead baby.”
I paid for his stuff and we walked out the store to the bus stop. I felt like crying because it feels like I can’t do what I want to do for my child. But I always hold my tears in because I don’t want my son to see me weak. If I show weakness, he will turn out weak since I’m the only example he has in his life.
His father was around for the first couple years of his life. Then he just up and left one day. Haven’t seen him since. Jordan was only 3 when his father left. Jordan is eight now. He’s going to be 9 next month. He doesn’t remember his father at all. I hate that I can’t have a father figure around him because even though he’s a great kid, he’s starting to slowly become disrespectful. I can’t deal with that on top of not having a job on top of not being able to pay rent.
I just wish something would happen to him or to me that would change our life forever.
Chris:
I was standing in the gym of the rec center this little dumb ass program was being held, waiting for the kid that was assigned to me to show up. I looked at my watch. 9:20. This little nigga is 20 minutes late. I watched as the other “older brothers” played basketball with their “younger brothers”.
“I’m so sorry we’re late, I had to catch the bus and I didn’t intend to be late,” some lady that rushed into the gym said. I looked into her direction and say her holding a little boy’s hand. This might be my kid. I cleared my throat as she looked around for somebody to tell her what she needed to do.
She looked at me. “Hi, are you the program director?” she asked me. “No, I’m Jordan Smith’s older brother for this program… guessing you’re his mother…” I slowly said. “Yes, here. Take him. Bye baby. I’ll see you when I pick you up. I love you. Be good too! Don’t give um…” she trailed off, looking at me. I guess she was waiting for me to tell her my name.
