Should Have Known Better

“Why would you say that to Reginald? I’m not jealous of you!” I got up in the bed and began to inch over toward them. “You said I was your friend.”

“You want to ruin my career,” Sasha said.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said.

Reginald held out his hand to stop me from coming closer to Sasha.

“I’m gonna walk her to her room. Just stay in here.”

“What?”

“I want to make sure she’s OK. I’ll be back.”

“But what about me?” I asked.

“Dawn,” Reginald said, “you’ve had a lot to drink. You need to lie down and get some rest.”

“But I was just trying to . . .”

“Dawn,” Reginald called louder. “Enough. You kicked her off of the bed. I need to make sure she’s OK. Do you want me to leave her lying on our bedroom floor?”

“But—” I tried.

“Lie down,” Reginald demanded, turning toward the door with Sasha hanging over his shoulder.

They began to walk out.

“But I—” I called to Reginald.

He turned his head to look at me.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said before walking over our threshold.

Sasha turned to look at me over his shoulder. There was nothing in her eyes.

My mother was stuffing me into the empty closet under the staircase. I was still little. I know because her hands fit around my entire torso and there was nothing I could do to get her off of me.

“I don’t want to go in here,” I cried. “It’s dark. It’s scary.”

“It’ll just be a little while, Dawn,” she said. “He won’t find you in here. He won’t think of it.”

“But can’t I go to my room? Be in my room by myself?” I was crying. My legs trembled in the cold draft.

“He’s gonna come look for you there,” she said. “Look, your daddy’s been drinking; something bad got into him. Something real bad. The devil.”

“Where ya’ll at?” my father slurred and I heard his feet nearly caving into the steps above my head.

My mother pushed me hard, back into the wall. I hit my head and fell to the floor. I heard a click as my mother locked the closet door.

“Edith? Where are you? Where are you with that girl? Falling asleep in church? She knows better.”

“Herbert, she ain’t in the house,” I heard my mother say. “She gone out to play now.”

I crawled up to the door and peeked out of the bottom where a little slit of light shined in from the lamp in the living room. I could see my mother’s black shoes right in front of me, hear my father’s shoes shuffling toward her.

“Play? How the hell you let her out to play after what she done pulled in church this morning? Embarrassing me in front of everyone? She needs to learn how to act. Where’s she at?”

His shoes were nearly on top of my mother’s, but she didn’t move from in front of the closet.