HAM (Hard As a Muthaf**ka)

Silly of Me

Silly of Me

                   I took a hard breath, as I sat on the bus…first Sunday in a long time. I onno why…it just seemed like ever since my dad died an’ all that, it got hard for me to be straight with my moms. I was lyin my ass off when I stayed with her, tellin her that I didn’t break in people’s houses and steal they shit, I didn’t steal people’s cars, I wasn’t sellin crack, I wasn’t skippin school, I wasn’t bringin girls home and bangin them out. When I moved out, I still wasn’t quite as honest as I needed to be. I wouldn’t tell her when I was sick, I wouldn’t tell her if I got in a fight, I’ve never told her that I have about four guns(two Sigs, a Glock, and a .32 Browning), I didn’t tell her about the time I had gotten Mary Ann Harper pregnant, and took her to get an abortion…other than that, she knew about my tats, she knew about me goin to jail(I first went to juvie when I was under her roof), she knew that I still sold(that was the reason for me movin out- she aint want me stayin under her roof, sellin), and she knew I just got out on Friday. That’s the reason for this visit- she’s worried about me, though she won’t come out and say it…she rather send Maxine to say it.

                   I scanned the bus, to see if there were any decent lookin females on there. Maybe like 2, but they looked like they were in the seventh grade. I pulled the cord, sounding the bus stop alarm, and got off the bus…I stood there at the corner, looking down the street. We didn’t live in a bad neighborhood, but it wasn’t exactly nice either…the only good thing that I can say is that the street where my moms lived- Aline Drive, had a lot of homes that were owned by people either hard working as her and my dad, or elderly people who took pride in what little possessions they had. I started down the street, sayin hey to the Thompson twins- they were one grade behind Max. “Hey Jacoby!”

                   “Sup,” I nodded, walking into the driveway. There sat Mom’s car- a burgundy 1995 Buick LeSabre. The other driveway space was empty- that’s where Dad’s Trailblazer used to sit…until Mom sold it. Even though I wasn’t there anymore, that really pissed me off, and me and her argued about it. That was Dad’s car- it just made me feel like she had gotten over him too quick, even though it had almost been a whole year. I looked to the house- the paint was fading a little…she would eventually get Old Man Fisher to repaint the house before the fall started to settle in. I walked to the door and knocked…Max opened the door, in some Tweety sweatpants and a colored tank tee. She rolled her eyes, walking away, as the storm door hit me in the shoulder. “Boy, why you knockin? You aint gotta knock…you fam,”

                   I stepped into the house, to the sounds of Minnie Ripperton, and some bomb ass pot roast and potatoes…the memories came back, as I remembered on Sundays, Mom would cook pot roast, and potatoes, and we would listen to old Motown tracks and the Commodores. She would let Dad watch football or NBA, and then he would help her out in the kitchen afterwards. I picked up the Minnie Ripperton album cover off the coffee table, studying it.

                   “Hey there,”

                   I put down the cover, turning to her…my mom. She stood there, in her jeans, loose blouse, and Elana nursing shoes…nursing was what she did, Monday through Saturdays at Kennestone Hospital in Marietta(she had Wednesdays and Sundays off). The years had been kind to her, since Dad’s passing, and the shit I put her through…she still looked full of energy and life. Hell, I aint gonna lie- my mama looked good for her age. Dudes had been trynna ask her out on dates for a while, and she would turn them down…I guess maybe she was over Dad enough to sell off the Trailblazer and some of his stuff, but she wasn’t past it enough to start back dating again. Thank goodness on that.