Never Worked

Chapter 1

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania- June, 1994

"De'Andre that's it, I can't take it anymore!" DeAndre seemed less than mildly effected by Mya's words. She was standing in the middle of a mess ridden, poorly put together living room that had seen better days despite the little touches she had tried to add to make it homey. She was looking at her surroundings with more than mild distaste for what she was seeing. Soda cans, beer bottles, dirty socks, and that was just the corner of the room he was occupying. They were living in a less than desirable neighborhood in west Philadelphia barely making it on what were her two jobs while this lazy son of a-

"What do you want, babe?" he asked. Really? What did she want?! She wanted a half decent man who could get off his butt and do something other than play video games while her two children starved and cried all day when she left for work. A real man. One that took responsibility for his family and "brought home the bacon" so to speak. She wanted the happily ever after he promised when they stood in front of the church and said "I do" for the whole congregation and God, despite his "feelings" on religion. She wanted her life back, and maybe a do-over button. But she settled on three words.

"I'm leaving you."

That seemed to get his attention. He paused his Street Fighter game, probably the only time she'd ever seen him do that since they had moved to Philly in the first place. First time for everything, she thought sarcastically. He looked her in the eye for the first time since she walked in the door, exhausted from another one of her jobs. Oh look, threaten to make him fend for himself and he gives her his undivided attention, figures.

"What are you talking about Mya?" he asked hesitantly with what looked like fear in his eyes. Oh, isn't that precious, he must really not like the idea of no longer having her footing all the bills. Unfortunately, guilt and remorse for his well-being died a long time ago when she came home to find her two babies crying and hungry. DeAndre Jr. hadn't eaten all day, and neither had her youngest Dreah. Her poor baby girl had the worst case of diaper rash she had ever seen because PlayStation had rule over all in her husband's simple mind. It took all of God's grace not to commit some sort of felony ridding them all of his negligence and laziness.

"You heard me" she answered. "I'm done with this! I deserve better, my children deserve better! You're not doing anything all day but sitting on your sorry behind! I thought you would eventually get out of this stage and realize I can't do it on my own! This is not what I signed up for. Being in the Army a few years does not make this ok!"

Her husband thought he had "earned the right" to be unemployed and refused to do anything to help with the bills. She thought this idea was ridiculous but played the doting wife to her veteran husband thinking this would only be temporary. She was wrong. Now if you don't know, in African American culture, two things defined a man to a woman. Two questions came out of your mouth before anything else, "Does he have any kids?", and "does he have a job?"

Those things mattered most to black women. They determined whether you would be able to provide, how much drama you would bring, and what you were looking for. A non-job-having-man, as we liked to call them, couldn't be looking for anything serious because he wasn't really a man without some sort of income and you just couldn't be taken seriously. A man with more than one or two kids would have much too much to do for his family to really give a relationship a chance. Not to mention potential baby mamma drama increases exponentially with each child. So, for her husband to have no job in sight and not take care of anything, and be ok with that? That was something she had no idea how to deal with. And just wrong.

Now, Mya was a self-aware sista' when it came to some things. She knew what she was working with. Light caramel skin, big emoting eyes, a beautiful smile, not to mention booty for days. And it was real too! No plastic surgery necessary. Yet somehow, she ended up with this man who was only her height on a good day at 5'8" and seemed to grey really early in life. Then had the audacity to refuse to dye it claiming it "gave him character" and "God made me that way". Typical; on George Clooney it was distinguished, on DeAndre Frankliyn its just grey.