"You're just afraid of him. And you should be. If he knew how you really behaved, you'd get a far worse beating than I got," I said, drawing closer and staring into her face.
"Stop it!" she whispered. "He could hear you."
She stamped her foot on the floor. "What the hell's going on down there?" Uncle Reuben shouted from his bedroom.
Jennifer hesitated, staring at me with wide, scared eyes.
"Should I tell him?" I asked. "Should I tell him what really happened last night?"
She seemed to think, and then bet against me facing Uncle Reuben.
"Nothing, Daddy," she called back.
"Well, keep your voices down. I'm trying to get some rest. I didn't get much last night thanks to someone in this house," he added.
"Okay, Daddy. Raven's sorry," she said.
"You're sicker than he is," I said, shaking my head.
"You're just jealous because you don't have a father," she spit at me, her eyes narrow and hateful but also filling with tears. "You never had a father. You have a mother who is a tramp and a drug addict, and now you don't even have her," she said, gloating.
"No," I spit back at her, "but at least I still have some self-respect."
I threw down the dust rag and marched past her, practically knocking her out of my way.
"Who else would respect you?" she called after me. "You're worse than an orphan. You're nothing. You don't even have the right name! That's right, Daddy told me your mother was never even married, so don't go throwing stones. You're an illegitimate child!" she shouted.
I slammed the door closed behind me.
She was right, of course. Nothing she said wasn't true, but I'd rather be no one, I thought, than someone with a father like hers.
"Didn't I tell you two to shut up down there?" I heard Uncle Reuben scream.
"It's all right, Daddy. I'm taking a walk over to Paula's. If there's any more noise, it's not me making it," she shouted back. A moment later, I heard her leave the house, and it was all very quiet again.
I took a deep breath and went to the window. It was still gray and dismal outside. Jennifer had guessed correctly. I wouldn't tell Uncle Reuben. Why would he believe me? I'd keep her little secret. For now.
And then I saw someone on the corner standing under a sprawling maple tree. She wore a raincoat and a bandana over her hair just the way my mother often did.
"Mama?" I called, my eyes filling with tears.
The woman turned and disappeared down the next street.
I shot out of the room and rushed to the door. Then I ran down the walk and up the street to the corner, but by the time I got there, there was no one in sight. I stood there looking. Had I imagined it?
"Mama!" I screamed. My voice died in the wind, and no one appeared.
But what if it had been Mama? I thought. In my heart of hearts, I wished it had been, just so I knew she was thinking about me, just so I knew she did care a little, even if she hadn't come back for me.
Maybe, I thought, looking down the long, empty street with barely a car moving along it, maybe I wanted it so much that I simply imagined it.
Just like everything good I wanted for myself, this was only to be a dream, an illusion, another hope tied to a bubble that would burst, leaving me as lost and as forgotten as ever.
I turned and went back to the hell I had to call home.
8 Innocence Lost
The guidance counselor at my old school, Mr. Martin, once told me it's harder to look at yourself than it is to look at others. Some of my teachers had been complaining to him about me, and when I had my meeting with him and he read off the list of cornplaints, I had an excuse for everything. I was so good at dodging that he finally sat back, looked at me, and laughed.