"I’ve missed you too Mom," Persha grabbed her mother’s bag, and walked toward the car holding her hand. She felt good having her mother at her side. As she drove her mother kept touching her, rubbing her shoulders, touching her stomach and running her fingers through her hair. Persha felt at ease about her pregnancy and her mother was not her normal judgmental self, so that made things even better.
By the time Friday rolled around, Persha and her mother had fallen into a comfortable groove. Each morning Paula woke and fixed breakfast, then she’d drive up to the office and take Persha out for lunch and have dinner fixed before she even came home.
The small apartment was decorated and various aromas were floating from the kitchen. Paula had even dug through some of Persha’s C-D’s and was playing one of Michael Jackson’s songs. She always did love that boy, even with all his strangeness.
Persha came into the kitchen after a trip to the store.
"Dang, Ma, you got it smelling so good up in here," she complimented. "I’m gonna miss you when you’re gone." She was looking over her mother’s shoulder as she focused on the pot on the stove.
"You won’t have to miss me for long, baby." Paula turned and wiped her hands on an apron. "I’ll be back next month and the month after that."
"And we can’t wait." Persha smiled, trying to dip into one of the pots on the stove.
By seven Brenda and her husband Jessie, along with Kori and her date Will and Cricket had gathered for dinner. Paula had the apartment lit with tall pillar candles and soft music was played in the background. The menu for the dinner party started off with a leafy salad drenched in Paula’s secret Cesar dressing recipe.
"Ooooh wee this dressing’s so good, it’s tasty," Brenda’s husband exclaimed between stuffing his mouth with bites of the salad.
When the Orange Roasted Cornished hens stuffed with fresh baby vegetables, and Brenda’s three-cheese mac and cheese came out, Kori’s date didn’t try to hide his lip licking.
Paula presented the homemade sweet butter rolls like they were royalty, shining and glossy on a silver platter and everyone dug in.
"Save room for Ms. Brenda’s Strawberry swirl cheesecake," Paula teased.
By the flicker of candle light, the seven ate and ate until a few had to ease back and loosen belts and buttons.
Persha looked over at her mother. "This is so nice. I’m so glad you’re here, Ma. Thank you so much for everything."
Paula looked around the table. "You know, I worry so much about my baby being out here all by her lonesome, but now that I’ve had a chance to spend time around all of you, I can rest a bit easy. I know God is watching out for her. Thank you all," Paula said.
"Awww," Kori managed as he date helped himself to his third plate.
Everyone else smiled and soon it was time for the cheesecake.
Persha was actually dreading Sunday. She didn’t want her mother to leave, but she knew it was inevitable. When she woke to use the bathroom at 5:30 A.M., she jumped at the light being on.
She tiptoed to the hall and watched quietly as her mother kneeled in front of the coffee table in a praying position. Never before had she noticed the cunning likeness they shared. Her mother’s features mirrored her own in an astonishing way. They had the same nose, same cheekbones, and thin lips.
While her mother’s skin looked the color of maple syrup, Persha’s was several shades lighter, but there was certainly no denying their kinship. And while her mother’s long dark lashes bunched up indicating just how tightly her eyes were shut, Persha could hear her voice. It was at a pleasant octave just above a whisper.
Persha’s eyes began to water when she realized her mother was praying for her. After a few minutes, she crept to the bathroom and then went back to bed. Unable to sleep, she got up after about an hour and found her mother busily making breakfast.
"Ma, you don’t have to do all of this on your last day here. You should be resting for your flight back home."
Turning her ample hips and leaning against the counter, Paula looked at her daughter. "I don’t mind, I’m glad to do for you again. I’m so glad we were able to patch things up and you know there are some things you and I should probably talk about before this baby comes."
Persha sat at the table and reached for one of the homemade biscuits and syrup.
"What’s going on, Ma?"
"This isn’t the right time for us to get into it, but just know that I love you and after we talk I really hope you’ll still love me too."
Persha got up, walked over and hugged her mother. "There’s not a thing you could ever say that would prevent me from loving you!"
Paula pulled back slightly. "I really hope so, child. I really do. I’ve been praying about it, and when the good Lord moves me, I’ll be ready." She smiled. "Until then, why don’t we enjoy our breakfast, then we can go for a walk before we head out to the airport."
"Sounds great," Persha said.
Throughout breakfast and during the walk, she and her mother shared small talk, but her mind was on what it was her mother had to talk about and why her mother would think that whatever it was would be enough to put into question Persha’s love for her. She wanted desperately to ask, inquire about it, but something told her to wait until her mother was ready.
Persha was genuinely pleased when she looked back at their time together. Not once did they share a cross word. They had actually gotten along better than they ever had. And a couple of nights, Paula had rubbed Persha’s stomach until she fell asleep.
Paula told her she felt a deeper connection to the baby and that made Persha feel special. All and all, the entire visit had been a complete treat, and both ladies looked forward to next month’s trip.
After a tearful good-bye at Hobby airport, Persha drove back home feeling loved and energized. Her excitement about the baby grew with each passing day. If only she would’ve been able to get Clarke on board, things would’ve been that much better. But she wasn’t quite ready to give up just yet. No, she could and would still fight for what was rightfully hers, and soon, they’d be a real family.
~ Clarke
When the two pairs of scissors came close, Clarke thought he was going to piss on himself right in front of those broads. And mind you, some of them were fine. Menesha used her pair to cut the right leg of his new slacks and Kelsa cut the left. Each cut from the ankle all the way up to his waist.
"Ooooweeee, look at his silk boxers. He must’ve thought he was about to get lucky," s voice he didn’t recognize screamed.
At his waist, both women cut his belt. Menesha stepped back. "Okay, on three let’s pull the pants off," she said like it was some kind of project they were revealing.
On three, they pulled one time and his pants came off, revealing his silk boxers that he’d bought especially for the make-up sex he and Kelsa were gonna have.
Next, they cut his boxers to reveal his prized possession. Clarke could hardly believe he was sitting in a chair, surrounded by 15 or 20 women, naked. Oh, he was all hanging out, and it wasn’t a good feeling.
"What’s up with this shit, Kelsa? Where’s the beef?" someone laughed. A few minutes later, the cheering section started back up again.
Clarke closed his eyes. He wasn’t a spiritual man, not by any means, but something inside told him if there was ever a time to pray, this was it. Closing his eyes tightly, he could feel a tear threatening to burst through when he heard Menesha say, "We need a butcher knife. Scissors ain’t gonna cut this little thang!"
"I’ll get it!" someone screamed, far too cheerfully for Clarke’s liking.
He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to think or what to feel. He could bleed to death. Didn’t they realize this? Didn’t they know that you don’t just cut off a vital piece of a man and expect him to survive?
The moment he dreaded had finally arrived when a voice said, "This should do the trick!" Clarke’s eyes snapped open and he focused on the enormous butcher knife in a woman’s slender hand. The blade sparkled like light enjoyed bouncing off of it. He swallowed and fought back tears. They had already seen him sweat, he couldn’t let them see him cry.
Clarke wanted to tell them they could go to jail for this; that they could be arrested. He wasn’t sure, but this had to be a felony. When you consider kidnapping, the assault, and what if something went wrong. What if someone decided to really cut his dick off?
Menesha, the obvious ring leader, looked toward the blade. She smiled and her eyes lit up. Clarke imagined her head magically twisting to a 360-degree spin. But when she looked at Clarke, her voice deepened, and she said, "You’ll pay, you bastard. Not just for what you did to Kelsa, but for what Ronnie did to me, for what David did to Sandra, or what Keith did to Melonie and for what Curtis did to Sylvia. Oh, you’ll pay!"
At the end of that speech, the cheering section went absolutely crazy. Clarke swore some were screaming in support of the upcoming amputation. His heart started beating faster and faster. They can’t be serious, he prayed.
Soon, Kelsa appeared at Menesha’s side. Clarke didn’t see her walk up next to her, she just appeared. His eyes and attention had been on the blade. With the duct tape roll in her hands, Kelsa leaned in close to him.
"This ain’t gonna be pretty," Kelsa said as she ripped off a long piece of the tape and fell to her knees. "You really don’t need to see this." She reached for his head, but Clarke quickly moved it in the opposite direction.
He wanted to appeal to her with his eyes. He wanted her to know this wasn’t right. What happened to the love? Didn’t she know this wasn’t the thing to do? Didn’t she still love him? Clarke was struggling to talk with his eyes. He squinted, tilted his head, and shook his head before staring into her eyes.
She had to be in there somewhere! This was his very last chance to connect with her and prevent a tragedy. But someone must’ve taken his moving head for resistance, because soon, a set of hands appeared and held him in place.
All the wiggling and head shaking did little good. Once the hands were able to hold his head straight long enough, the duct tape went right over his eyes. He didn’t even get a chance to close them properly.
"Trust me," Kelsa said. He could smell her perfume. "You’ll thank me for this later. You don’t want to see all the blood and mess this is gonna cause."
Another voice spoke up and said, "Kelsa! Hold up. Maybe you should let the low down dirty bastard see what’s going to happen. That way the dog will think twice before he screws another sistah over again."
"You know, that’s not a bad idea," another stranger’s voice chimed in.
"Besides, by the time we’re done with him, he won’t be screwing a damn thing!" another woman yelled.
The room fell silent. Clarke grew incredibly nervous and restless, but he knew it was best if he remained still.
He heard Kelsa sigh. He even felt the breath she released. He knew she was still near. He struggled not to move. He wanted to break free. This could be a last ditch attempt to win her trust before the blades grew closer to his Johnson. He didn’t like this shit at all. But what could he do and why was she taking so long?
At that very moment he started reminiscing about just how much he missed Kelsa and how badly he wanted her to give him another chance. He felt somewhere under all of the bravado, she still had feelings for him. The silence told him she was considering what she was about to do. He started smiling on the inside. Despite what the mob of bitches thought, he knew Kelsa was a good woman. He also knew about the faith he had in her.
For a moment, he wondered if they were alone. The cheering section was so quiet he considered it, but he knew better.
The calm had jumpstarted his imagination. What would life be like without his Johnson? Just the thought of losing his manhood made him want to die. Is a man still a man without it? How could he be? Clarke wondered if they understood the severity of their threat. It was just a few months ago when he saw that news story about that crazy bitch who cut off her man’s dick right here in Houston.
He remembered wondering what the hell that man would do. Back then he had laughed, saying they might as well kill him if he had to live without his dick. He didn’t feel that way now, not sitting in that chair sweating. The stillness alone was enough to make him quiver. The hairs on the back of his neck remained at attention.
He wanted desperately to hear what Kelsa would say. He knew she’d think twice and tell the hags to vacate the premises. Or at least that’s what he thought until she spoke.
"I guess you’ve got a good point," he finally heard Kelsa say. And without warning, his face started burning, right at his eyes. He wasn’t certain his skin was still in place. Kelsa had ripped the tape right off his eyes. His skin sizzled like someone had set it ablaze.
If only one of these bitter hags could have a little sympathy and spare him some agony. He knew a warm towel would help. He could barely keep his eyes open, and all of this while fighting back tears. He was emotionally exhausted and physically worn out.
But nothing could prepare his eyes for what he saw when his vision was finally fully restored. Void of the tears and temporary blurriness from the duct tape, he could see the angry mob was ready for blood. He had to be a man because Kelsa wasn’t even looking into his eyes.
The assault weapon had already been passed to Menesha’s hands, so he knew he was doomed. There was definitely no turning back at that point.
"Kelsa, are you sure you can handle this? ‘Cause a sistah, wouldn’t mind helping you out!" Menesha snickered.
Clarke watched as Kelsa’s eyes settled on the blade. She didn’t flinch, just nodded and reached for the knife. His heart sunk at her move. He thought she loved him.
"Not only can I do this, but I want to do this," Kelsa declared. "And trust me, I won’t be as kind as Loraina! I’m gonna cut that mug up into a thousand pieces." She shrugged her shoulders. "Since a sistah’s gonna do some time for this, I might as well go out like a champ right?"
As if on cue, and to Clarke’s dismay, the cheering section came to life again. He couldn’t believe this was how he was set to die. There was no way he’d survive such an injury, and looking around the room at all the liquor and snacks, it was clear the women could go on celebrating for hours and hours while he lay bleeding to death.