Violets Are Blue

chapter 11: Violet

As I was walking home from school I noticed a cop at the house across the street from us. I wondered what happened there. Was there a domestic report in this neighborhood? Or something worse? We usually don’t see cops in this neighborhood, and if we do they are just cruising around.
I changed my focus back to turning into my yard. I saw Abigail’s car was parked in the driveway and didn’t want to deal with her but still decided to go in. I opened the door set on heading straight to my bedroom but came face to face with a police officer.
“Is everything OK?” I asked, looking toward the cop. He wore the standard black uniform. He was a bit chubby with a peach fuzz beard. His dark brown eyes was staring me down. He was most confused that a black child walked into the home of a white woman, unannounced and unexpected.
“She’s my step-daughter,” Abigail said. I let that slide since an officer was in the house. Abigail looked at me and said, “We were robbed today.”
“By who?” I replied. A little worry in my voice.
“I don’t know,” Abigail said calmly, “but most of our clothes, jewelry and silverware is gone, even your father’s wedding ring.”
The cop looked at me and asked, “Do you know anything about this? Anything that can help better our search, and did you allow anyone to come into our home lately?”
My heart dropped. The only person who was in my house, other than me and Abigail, was my mother. Was it my mother? Did she have something to do with this? She wouldn’t rob us, her own daughter’s home right? I hated thinking that my mother was always not what I expect her to be sometimes. It only made me think less of her, something I never liked doing.
“Young girl?” the officer said, most likely curious about why I paused for a couple of seconds.
“No,” I said quickly “No one at all.”.
He wrote it down on his little yellow notebook. He told Abigail that he would go to the station and come back with equipment to search for clues. Neighbors within our neighborhood also reported seeing suspicious people that night, and gave the police descriptions.
As soon as the officer left I turned to Abigail.
“Where the hell were you? Aren’t you supposed to be watching this damn house while I’m as school?”
She stuttered. “I…I was out, Ok,”
“Out for what?” I asked.
“Nothing that should concern you.” She replied.
I scoffed but remained silent, not wanting to deal with her. She was saying what she does is none of my business but she wants to know all of my business. Hypocrite. I didn’t think about it much. I was too busy thinking of my mother. I allowed her in my house only two days ago before the robbery happened. I wanted to believe that she had nothing to do with this, but I couldn’t. At least not until I hear my mother say it. I walked out the front door.
I made it to my mother’s neighborhood by sunset, I spent so long talking to the cops. For the first time I was annoyed by how far she lived. I always hoped to get a car when I turn sixteen, getting to my mother’s home faster was one of the main reasons.
Once in her neighborhood I began to walk to her home. I turned onto the street where there is nothing but restaurants and small businesses. It was near night time, especially around that time when the certain type of men and women come out. I hoped I wouldn’t have  to see them, but to my unluckiness I did.
There they were: women, and some men, lined up like toys waiting to be bought by the weird and perverted, dressed in skimpy, or revealing outfits. I never saw how someone could do something like that. Sell their bodies for money. Thanks to Lily I didn’t try to judge them, a woman could be selling their body to feed their kids, or to pay for something, but knowing this side of town I know most of them were doing it for drugs.
I walked on the other side of the road to avoid their stares and their yelling, and even offers. I never walked on their side of the road. The last thing I wanted was for someone to think that I’m one of them. I didn’t want to get hit on by someone who must pay to be pleasured let alone have them think I would do the unmentionables with them for money. One stood out to me, one with red hair, reminding me of my mother. I looked closer. To my dismay it was someone I knew. My mother.
My heart skipped a beat, I stopped walking and thought for a moment. My mother was waiting just like them, looking to be picked up and get paid for doing whatever the buyer wanted. I stormed towards her, while ignoring the stares, and grabbed her by the arm.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I screamed. Her eyes widened as she realized who I was.
“Baby-girl!” she yelped, “What are you doing here at this time of night?”
“What am I doing? What the hell are you doing?” I replied, “You promised me you weren’t gonna be like these people!”
She looked back at the crowd, knowing some of them had took offense to that. She yanked me into an alleyway, most likely to get away from the others, in case I say anything else that may set them off.
“Now tell me what you doin’ here?” she asked again.
“Not until you tell me what you were doing with those whores?”
She remained quiet, refusing to answer me. “Answer my question first.” She said.
I sighed and said, “We were robbed last night, did you have anything to do with that?” I bluntly asked.
“No, baby-girl,” she said, “I would never rob my own daughters home.”
“Are you lying?”
‘No, baby-girl,” she pulled me in for a hug. I didn’t hug her as hard as I used to, “You have momma’s word that I never robbed you.”
I pulled her away from me, “Now you answer me.”
“It’s late baby, why don’t you head home.”
“Momma!” I yelled, “Answer me.”
“You already know the answer!” she yelled back, “Baby I’m broke; I’m living in a shelter! I barely have a meal each damn day! I’m doing what I gotta do!”
“To get your next high?” I replied with tears in my eyes.
“So I can live!” She screamed, “I’m out here tryna live my damn life! You think the little money you give me is enough to feed me everyday for the rest of my life! I’m doing this to support myself.”
“Momma why? Why did this happen to you?” I asked.
She was quiet for a bit, but she finally answered, “After I lost you, I got so damn depressed. I couldn’t function when everything I loved was gone. Blame everything on that white bitch, Abigail.”
I took in a deep breath. Once again she blamed Abigail. Normally this would make anyone want to hurt her, but I already heard it all. I already accepted that Abigail did all of this to her, this wasn’t going to make me angrier at her than I already am.
“I believe you.” I said. As always I said those words after she tells me one of her sob stories about what happened. At least this time I have proof that she wasn’t lying. Abigail did this in front of the court and she lost me.
“Rosy-girl, where you at!?” A familiar voice said. I remembered that voice, it was the same man who called her name when I took her to that barbecue restaurant. I knew who that man was to her now. I just didn’t want to say it.
My mother suddenly began pushing me towards the sidewalk and led me around the corner. She told me goodbye and suddenly went back. I walked away as fast as I can, not wanting to hear or see anything between the two. I’m not going to try to go after her again. This was one thing I cannot look past.
The bus back home was quite to me. There were people talking but I didn’t hear them. I was too busy replaying the images in my head. My mother with those prostitutes. It was something a daughter should never see her mother doing.
On the bus ride home I replayed my words, To get your next high? It played in my head over and over again. I regretted those words, feeling as if I should have said something better, maybe the argument could have went differently.
I arrived home near midnight. Luckily it was a Friday so I didn’t have to worry about waking up early tomorrow. Once in my bed I sat down and thought about my mother. I now see that she is not the same woman who raised me. She was not the same woman who changed my diapers, fed me, or bathed me. She was something else that I couldn’t understand. Something I know is not what a person should be, let alone a mother.
I reached over toward my nightstand and grabbed the brochures. Instead of skimming through them I read it. There were actually really good programs, there were self-help groups, drug anonymous, free therapy sessions, there were even activities you can do with fellow members of the rehab clinic and your family. This was an amazing clinic. I just hoped my mother would be willing to go there.
Willing. Again with that damned word. It was a voluntary rehab clinic, she can leave as she pleases, and choose not to come back. That would be my biggest fear, that she would give up and accept her addiction. She needs to see what it’s doing to not only her, but her only family member too. That’s it ruining her life, pushing away her child, and causing me to worry for her. Maybe she knows what it is doing to me and she just accepts it, only getting away from it every time she gets high.
I put down the brochures and turned off my lamp light. I know my mother didn’t confess to robbing my house, but I feel like she had a hand in it, even when my mind says she didn’t. It didn’t really bother me that we were robbed. It was all material, something that Abigail and I can easily replace. It was just the thought that if she did do it, why her own daughter? I took in a deep breath and thought of her. It all finally rushed into my mind.
My mother has been lying to me, she has been using me, and I now accept that. I know it should be something I should have accepted a long time ago. I just didn’t want to admit that the thoughts and the evidence was there hanging over my head ready to fall at any given moment, like the sword of Damocles. I know what I must do…. I must help her, even if it means putting my dream on hold, even if it means I must make my father proud later on than I expected. She is my main priority now