Get Up 10

The Jump Off

Ambrosine Brooks
Summer, 2018
Harlem, NY

Love starts at home. When you don't get to experience love the correct way, that shit makes you anxious, lonely and breaks down your confidence before it can even bloom. Love starts from when you are a child and norms are created for you by adults who should have your best interest. Sometimes they don't. Sometimes you learn that a belt and fist is okay because daddy loves you. Sometimes you learn that it's okay if he cheat's because he supports with money. Sometimes you learn it's okay if you are cussed and called out of your name—because that's love too.

I look in the mirror and a woman I've never known stares back. A stranger to me but I am no stranger to her. I invaded her body and provided sickness and occasional kicks. My father once said I stole your face. A face he once loved but it grew into hate. He was drunk and never spoke of it again. He wont talk about you or even explain why you left.

You don't realize that you love differently from the rest of the world until you go out seeking a love of your own. I thought I knew love until it ripped a mask off and showed it's true color. The color of deceit. It is a pain I wish I never knew.

His name is Jay. I thought we'd be together forever. Silly me.

The concept of love can also trick you into thinking that you've found the one when in reality, you might have to give it a few chances. We aren't all that lucky to be one and done.

I am often reminded by my daily encounters with my father that I do not come from love. Maybe Jay was just an escape from something far worse. Maybe I don't know what love is at all. I come from two people who had no business being together to begin with. If they did, they'd still be together.

If you can't tell, I have mommy and daddy issues. I won't even sit here and act like life is perfect for me. I've acknowledged that it isn't and that's okay. I've accepted it now. My mother named me Ambrosine Aliz Brooks. A mouth full—and a reason to be bullied. Except I wasn't because no joke was worth the wrath of Niche. Only he could have the joy of bringing me down. 

Niche also hates my name—and everything else about me. He insists on calling me "Audi" and I'm not sure why. He says a lot of dumb shit I just don't question. I didn't like the nickname because it made me feel like he was trying to rewrite history and force me to abandon a name given to me by my mother...but eventually, it grew on me.

I'm not a fan of a sob story. I just keep it real and tell the facts. Life was rough for me emotionally but I made the best out of it. I raised myself. Usually raising yourself means you have tough skin—resilience. I feel like it made me sensitive. I often suppress my emotions when I am around people. It made me become extremely emotional in private.

Niche only fed and clothed me to keep up with his image. No daughter of his could "walk around looking like a bum" and "give the hood something to talk about". He's been buying my clothes since I was a child. I never really had a say in what I was to wear until I reached my twenties. I didn't have a voice or the opportunity to express myself and create own style. I wear designer labels I don't even like. The only good thing about him being controlling is the random purses he comes home with. He will snatch a purse back from one of his hoes with a quickness and give it to me. It is not because he loves me either, it is to prove a point that he is superior to them. They need him but he doesn't need them. Because of this, I have everything I don't want and everything I don't need.

I don't know much about mother. I'm not even sure of her real name because he tends to use nicknames when addressing people. For a while, he hid my birth certificate from me as well. Eventually I stopped asking. I have never worked a job.

To be completely transparent, I don't ask about her either. She made it clear where we stand when she abandoned me with a man like Niche. It's like Niche paid the entire Harlem off to keep quiet about her or some shit. I wouldn't put it past him. People have told me we look alike though—that's about it. That's probably the true reason why Niche can't stand my ass.