Violets Are Blue

Chapter 5: Violet

I decided not to go to school today. I wore my uniform and faked that I was going so Abigail wouldn’t suspect. I know school is my focus but I can't focus with the court date on my mind. I need to go talk to my mother. She was sitting on the porch steps of her shelter, this time she was wearing a
thick red shirt, with the same pants and heels. She was blindly staring at the ground. I wondered if she was strung out right now. I would hope not, I don’t think I can bare that.
Watching her lose her mind even more.
“Hey, mama.” I said.
“Hey, baby. You bring momma some money?” As always I gave her some of the money I had. She yanked it from me. “Now tell me what you doin’ here, baby-girl? Don’t
you have school?”
“Yeah, but -”
“But nothin’. Yo’ ass is suppose to be goin’ to school, so you can take care of me and you. That means you need to be in every class, so you can make as much as your father did.”
I know my mother was right. She is always right. She cares enough to make sure I go to school.
“I know, mama. I just had to see you.” I said. “I need to ask you a question.”
She tensed up. “Go ahead baby.”
I stared into her eyes for a second, I decided no to asker her. “How was your day?” I decided not to bring it up. I needed more clues. She may not know anything herself. Those drugs has mangled her mind over the years. At least when I ask her and  she tells me, I would know if she’s telling the truth.
“It was good.” My mother said. She kept looking at the ground. She never looked me in the face. I wondered if she was embarrassed about her life. She shouldn’t be. Especially not to me. I think she was so guilt ridden that she was unable to raise me after all this time. I know my mother loved me. She would always tell me when I was younger.
When she did have custody of me she would shower me with love, with the little welfare she could get. It just showed how much she cared for me, unlike Abigail. My father tried to lie to me because he considered my feeling, but my mother told me the truth. Abigail, who my mother refers to as ‘white bitch’, manipulated my father into thinking he needed her, when in reality my father needed time to think. Oh well, everything can’t be perfect.
I just couldn’t help but think how evil Abigail is. I remembered my parents being so happy. They never fought. Well they never fought in front of me. Something happened that caused them to become so strained, and Abigail just came in and stepped on the only chance for them to reconcile. My mother became addicted afterwards, my guess finding comfort in those drugs.
I never understood how she found the drugs though. She lived so far up north, and she found her way all the way down here. I know my mother had to sign a prenup, otherwise she would be settled in fine, and not in this dump. She must have felt so
betrayed. Maybe if Abigail never came in my dad would be alive today. Maybe.
I looked back at my mother. She was as blank as ever still. I wondered where she was. Everytime I see her she asks for money. She knows about the money I’m getting on my eighteenth birthday. Maybe….. I shook my head. I know it wasn’t true.
“You hungry? Wanna go get something to eat?” I asked.
“Yeah, ok.” She said in a monotone voice. It felt so overused, and sounds as if she’s used to saying it like that. It made me wonder what she has said ‘ok’ to.
We walked a few blocks to a local barbeque restaurant. There aren’t many good, upscale, restaurants down here. Opening any type of place here would be financial suicide.Once inside we ordered and sat down. The place was empty. Something I was glad about. I wasn’t embarrassed by my mother, but she wasn’t exactly the ideal mom.
I ordered a small salad and water. My mother ordered ribs, macaroni and
cheese, potato salad, pork beans, and a large coke. It was like she hasn’t had a decent, full, meal in a long time. Do addicts even eat normally?
I watched in awe as she gobbled down the food. I don’t even know if she was chewing or just eating it whole. It sickened me that she suffered like this. Why the hell did Abigail have to pop up? It’s all her fault. My mother, my dad’s death…
I rejected my mind. I shouldn’t blame Abigail for that. Yes she was the cause, and the rest was the effect but not even she should have that burden. I still shouldn’t be soft on Abigail. She deserved it all.
My mother was done eating. It’s only been a few minutes.
“So have you gone to CPS?” I asked out of nowhere.
She paused for a moment. Clearly I caught her off guard. “Don’t worry about it baby girl, I’m going to go.”
My mind began to fight with my heart. I was so conflicted with her answers. I did what I always did without hesitation. I believed her.
“Do you love me?” I asked. I just had to hear it again. I had to hear her say the words she would say to me when I was younger. It’s become a rarity today. It helps me calm down when my mind isn’t right.
My mother touched my face with her food infested hands. I didn’t move for her sake. I know she’s trying to be considerate at the moment. “Of course baby-girl. I always loved you.”
I smiled. I could feel the sincerity in her voice. “I’m just waiting for you plan, mama. You always say you would go at the end of the week but you never you do.”
“Baby-girl, everytime I go, I always get taken back a few steps. I promise I will get you this time. I love you.”
Those words were so hard to believe, but I did believe in them.
I still remained quiet though. She’s been saying this for the past two years. I always believed her of course. I usually didn’t care as much, but since my father died it’s become important. Without a parent constantly in my life I’m nothing. I only have one left now, and I want to spend all of my time with her before her time comes. Only god knows when that’ll be.
I sighed. I felt so stupid for asking her. Of course she’s trying to get me. Of
course she love me. I am her child after all.
I grabbed her wrist, refusing to touch her hands, and held them tightly. She
understood the gesture and smiled.
“Aye’ Rose wassup.” A voice said. It was a masculine voice. A voice that ruined a happy moment. We were interrupted by two men. One was african american with a white shirt, camouflage cargos, and black sneakers to match. The other one was white, wearing a black shirt, with blue basketball shorts. Unfortunately his shorts were sagging, exposing
his red underwear.
“Can we help you?” I asked.
The white man gave me a funny look, “We not talking to you. Aye’ Rose I need yo’ help with something, you can help me make it go down.”
I understood his little pun. I knew what he was asking her for. I chose to ignore it.  I didn't want to believe that my mother was doing something as low as that. She wasn’tdoing something as low as that. I know it.
“My mother is busy.” I said. Irritated by their direct rudeness. These men were nothing more than petty thugs. Men who think they can handle the south side. They can’t. They are nothing more than wannabe thugs trying to live the hood life, even
though they never once held a gun, sold drugs, or even killed a man. They slipped through the cracks of this run down street and called themselves gangsters. There is nothing special, or even respectful, about that.
I always understood you can take a man out of the hood, but you can’t take the hood out of the man, but these were just boys. Unable to fully grasp the streets they claim, nor the lifestyle they say they live. The man with the black shirt looked at me with a face of amusement. He quickly
looked at my mother and back at me again.
“Oh shit.” He said with a smile. “This woman yo’ mother?”
I nodded. They could see the anger in my face. The annoyance in my eyes.
The black man began to laugh, and the white man followed. “Do you know half the shit this bitch be doing with her legs?” They laughed some more.
“Repeat that again?” I said.
The white man shot back, “Shut yo’ ass up! Hoes don’t mind being called a hoe if you pay them enough.”
“Enough!” My mother yelled, “Ronnie, Darnell, I’ll deal with ya’ll later.” I saw how my mother looked at them. It showed me that the black man was named Darnell, and the white man, Ronnie.
They gave in and decided to leave, calling her other uncivilized names, no man should call a woman. I sighed and remained quite. I knew what they were talking about. My mother’s other habits. I refused to believe it though. I know it’s a lie. She refused them now so she must have refused them before. I refuse to believe what other people
set her out to be. What she makes herself appear to be. I couldn’t accept it.
I remembered the woman who raised me, bathed me, and made sure I was
happy. That woman isn't gone. She’s just hidden. Hidden in the shell of a woman who has been dragged through the gravel road. My mother finished the rest her food and we left. We began to walk back to her shelter. On the way we were talking about my childhood. It was the only topic we were comfortable talking about, and the only topic where we both smiled. She brought up the times when I was an infant.
“Girl you used to cry everyday.” My mother said.
“Really?” I replied “I thought I was always a quiet baby. At least that’s what my father told me.”
“Your father was always at work, how the hell would he know.”
“Oh come on, he was working. When I got a little older he would take me
everywhere.” I chuckled.
“I know honey. I wished I could have done that too.”
“You did.” I replied “I remember that one night you took me to that restaurant and that man kept on bothering you. After that night dad wouldn’t let you hold me anymore.”
My mother’s smile faded. I wonder if it was because I brought up my father taking me away from her. They were so perfect together. I Was still aching over his death. Did she feel the same pit in her stomach like I did? Her eyes were shifting from me to the ground.
Before I could venture on that topic I was stopped by a man yelling from down the street. “Rosy girl!” He yelled.
The man was wearing a black sports jersey, with sagging blue jeans, and
matching black sneakers. He had various gold chains and jewelry. He was a rather imposing man, physically. I wondered who he was, and why he was calling my mother.
“Go home, baby.” My mother said.
I tried to fight her instruction, “But-”
“Go home now!” She replied with stress.
I walked away fast and turned the corner. The seriousness and fear in her voice
made me want to turn back. I decided not to. My mother has lived in the south for so long I trust she’ll be ok. I made it home by nightfall and sneaked in. Abigail was in her
room already. In front my room door I noticed a plate of food. It was cold already. I wasn't hungry anyway. I still took it in my room. I did my nightly duties and headed to sleep.