The Glamorous Life 2 (2 page)

The shed in back of the house was old and dark but constructed with cement blocks, so structurally it was safer than the dilapidated wooden porch they were on.

“B-But snakes in there,” Compton stammered.

Just because she’d never seen any snakes in the shed, personally, didn’t mean Compton wasn’t right in his assumption.

“You are bigger than any little ol’ snake,” she told him. “It’s going to be a lot safer in there than out here in this storm. Besides, there are going to be snakes that walk on two legs in this world.” Though she was only a month shy of her fifteenth birthday, Calliope had seen a lot. “We can’t be scared of them. We just gotta prepare ourselves the best way to deal with and protect ourselves from them.”

Compton was slow taking in the jewel his sister had given him because he was too preoccupied with the storm. He watched in awe as the trees jerk danced to the music of the ferocious wind and buckets of water fell from the sky. “Do you think the wind will blow it away?” He meant the shed, not the trees. Calliope didn’t know the answer.

“I don’t think so,” she said honestly. “But I do know that as long as we’re together, nothing in this world can blow us apart from each other.” Lightning struck, illuminating the sky, then the rain started coming down even harder. Though she wanted and tried to be as tough as she could, the hard-hitting hail coming down on the roof of the porch made Calliope scared as hell herself. She was sure that the possibilities of the porch caving in were very high and knew they had to move, because when it did collapse, the very place where they did not want to be was under that awning. She said to her brother, “Okay. I need you to be a big boy and to run as fast as you can.”

He sucked in air, poking out his chest, and said, “Okay. Don’t worry, I’m not scared. Super Compton will protect you from dem snakes,” he boasted, ready to run, ready for whatever, as long as he was with his sister. “Super Compton is ready for takeoff.”

The siblings streaked across the lawn like two bolts of lightning. Both reached the ancient shed at the same time, milliseconds before an actual jiggered sphere of electricity lit up the blackened Miami sky. Immediately following the light show, a clap of thunder shook the ground. Calliope, still holding tight to Compton’s hand, asked, “Are you okay?”

He nearly jumped out of his tennis shoes. “I’m f-fine,” he said, but he was still shaking.

The shed had been there long before they’d moved in to the small Monopoly-style house, before either child was a thought, even before Shelly was born.

It was dark, no lights, and had a strong mildew smell. Besides that, the shed wasn’t too bad. Even so, Calliope wanted to burst out in tears, but thought better of it. There was no need to—what was crying going to do? What was it going to solve? Absolutely … nothing! She had learned a long time ago that crying wouldn’t get any results. Besides, the sky was crying enough for everyone that night.

The cold and their soaking wet clothes didn’t help at all. Luckily, there was an old blanket they could use to wrap up in. It had previously been used to cover up an antique-looking dresser. But at that moment they needed it more than any piece of furniture did. Although the comforter smelled horrible, they were warmer than they’d been before, so they would tolerate the foul odor.

While they waited for the storm to burn out, Compton fell asleep in Calliope’s arms, but she stayed awake thinking how messed up their life was and how when she had kids she’d never do anything like this to her children. She’d only fill their life with lots of love. As she sat there watching her brother sleep so peacefully, all that was left for her was to look up at the sky, to God, to humbly ask for help and answers but most of all for strength to endure it all.

With prayer seemed to always come tears.

And as the rain cascaded down, she wished it would wash all her worries away, especially the hate and the deep-rooted animosity for her mother that she had trapped inside of her. Once the downpours stopped, so did the tears. And somehow, not ruling out God, the rain brought her strength to move on past this moment. To fight and to endure the inevitable pain life would bring her way.

Also it gave her heart and the guts she needed to navigate through the world. Not to mention the courage to make the decision that on everything that she loved, from that moment on it was
fuck
Shelly and she’d take care of herself and her brother. By any means necessary, or God have mercy on her soul.

1

The situation would get
worse—so much worse—before it got any better. So bad that at times Calliope wished that she was dead, but would quickly take it back, asking God to forgive her for her evil thoughts. The problem with that was if she was dead, who in the world would take care of Compton? Honestly, there was no one—no aunts, no uncles, no grandmothers, no grandfathers, neighbors, friends, teachers, or anyone who even cared. No one! The truth of the matter was that they were all each other had, and no matter what the circumstances were—bad, good, happy, or sad—there was no doubt about it, they had to stick together.

The morning after sleeping in the damp mildewed shed, the storm had passed over, and surprisingly Calliope and Compton were allowed back inside of the house. Shelly was in an uncharacteristically cheerful mood. It was so bizarre how she acted as if throwing her two children outside during a hurricane was no real biggie.

“Listen here, now!” she told her two children, with no kind of sympathy. “Yesterday is gone and today is a new day. I don’t want no kind of motherfucking grudges and most importantly I don’t want no shit from you two motherfuckers.” She leaned down and used her index finger to point at both of them. “You better not breathe one solitary word about where in the hell y’all two slept at last night. If anyone asks,” she said, but Calliope wondered to herself,
Who in the hell would ask of our well
-
being? If our own dangone mother didn’t care, who else would?

The siblings just stood and gazed at their mother as she informed them of her concocted lie. “You are gonna say that you were at the babysitter’s house. That’s it. That’s all. You got that?” Before either could nod or agree, “I wish either you two bastards would say anything else,” she said as she stood over the stove carrying on with her immediate tasks of cooking eggs for breakfast, not even waiting for them to agree to her story. She was singing an old Chaka Khan song, “I Feel for You.”

What made it even crazier was that the only thing worse than their mother’s singing were her eggs and most everything else she attempted to cook.

At the end of the song, “Try me and see what happens. And you know firsthand I don’t make promises.” Before hitting the repeat button on the CD player, she said, with a smile, “Now, go on ahead and make yo-selves useful and set the table.” Calliope thought that was strange because the last time they sat at the kitchen table and ate together was Thanksgiving, which was a good eight months ago.

Though Calliope did what she was told, wiping the table and getting the plates out of the cabinet while directing Compton to get the napkins and the silverware, she was still almost speechless. Calliope hadn’t seen her mother in such a happy mood like this in God knows how long and couldn’t help wonder where it all stemmed from. Then the source of Shelly’s newfound Little Mary Sunshine attitude was soon unveiled.

“I have a surprise for you two heathens,” she said, all smiles and bright eyes. She paused before speaking to them, with a Kool-Aid smile, which allowed Calliope’s mind to run wild. Maybe the big announcement was she had gotten lucky and hit the lottery. Shelly played her numbers faithfully and maybe just one time, Lady Luck would show her face. If she did, they could move to a better neighborhood than the ran-down one they lived in, which meant better schools for her and Compton. If Shelly had indeed come into a windfall she could surely afford to hire a nanny to look after them, since Shelly never really wanted to deal with them anyway and never had any real interest in being a mother. Maybe she’d find one like Fran Drescher from
The Nanny,
who could help Calliope pick out clothes and take her to tennis lessons and those dance lessons that she’d always wanted. And if Shelly had an abundance of money, maybe she wouldn’t be so mean and hard up for a man. Even for fourteen-year-old Calliope it was sickening watching Shelly run behind these good-for-nothing men who didn’t want her noway. If she had money, she could fill her time with things other than chasing after her next meal ticket. Who knows? She may even take some cooking lessons. Heck, she could even hire a chef, and a live-in housekeeper, so that Calliope wouldn’t have to be the maid anymore. She wondered if Shelly would buy them clothes and shoes so they could be fly just like Shelly was every day. Calliope was still thinking up ways that winning the lottery could make all of their lives better when Shelly blurted out with great pride and happiness: “Big Jack is moving in.”

“Huh? What?” Too busy smiling for the cameras as they accepted the giant-sized check from the lottery presenter, Calliope wanted to act as if she had misheard her mother. Though Shelly didn’t really care what Calliope’s thoughts were, she wanted to make it clear what hers were.

“I said,” she emphasized, “Big Jack will be staying with us.”

In Calliope’s mind, the guy that had been presenting the big check snatched it away at that very second.

“Why?” she shouted. It came out more like an involuntary spasm to her mother and the Indian-giving lottery cat.

Shelly ignored Calliope at first, wanting to get her point across. “Big Jack is moving in, and you two are going to act like you got some got-damn home training. You gonna keep this place spotless clean, so that if he wants to eat off the floor, he can. You hear me?”

Neither of the children spoke, and Shelly went on. “You are going to stay out of his way, and when you do cross his path, you are going to be kind, nice, respectful, and on your best motherfucking behavior. You hear me?”

“Yeah, okay,” Calliope said in a tone that conveyed to Shelly that it was certainly some bullshit, but she would oblige. And if she would, it was damn near written in stone that Compton would. After all, they really had no other choice. If they didn’t, no telling what she might do.

“Don’t raise your damn voice in my house,” Shelly snapped at Calliope, but the bad thing about it was Calliope had not even raised her voice. “If you don’t like the way I run things in this here house of mine, you can put them turned-over, ran-down Reeboks on and beat your feet.” She got up in Calliope’s face. “Don’t your little ass ever forget who is the fucking boss around this bitch.” Then she put her hand up as if she was going to smack her daughter. “You hear me, lil’ girl?”

Calliope just looked at her mother and nodded. Then before they were finished eating the runny eggs, Shelly said, “Now, get the fuck up and clean this goddamn house before Big Jack gets here and starts to move his stuff in. And when he does, stay the hell out of his way.” Then she added, “And don’t beg for shit either.”

Calliope hopped up immediately. She was glad to be excused from the table, even if it meant she had to go and slave. She hated Shelly’s cooking with a passion and wanted no part of it. But her moving so quick was mistaken for her having an attitude, prompting Shelly to respond, as always on her power trip. “Lil’ girl.” She stood up too. “Don’t you ever forget, as long as your ass is black and you live with me, that I, Shelly Conley”—she pointed to herself—“call all the shots under this roof.”

To tell the truth and to shame the devil.

The truth of the matter was after Big Jack moved in, he called all the shots … every last one of them, even down to the kind of toilet paper they used. But the interesting thing was all the mouth and jibber jabber that power-driven Shelly had, she allowed him to. In a strange way, he turned their once dysfunctional home into a slightly less dysfunctional one but somehow making it an open-air drug market.

As soon as Calliope got home from school, she was allotted one hour to make dinner. Other than that, the kitchen was pretty much off-limits to Shelly and the kids. It had been turned into a fully functioning crack-cocaine manufacturing lab. The powder cake was cooked with baking soda in pots of boiling water before being cooled off with ice. The kitchen table was used to package the products to be ready for sale. The final product was transacted with strange men of all races, sizes, and ages in the den all day, all night, seven days a week.

There was no small-time, nickel-and-dime money or drugs being moved in and out of the house. Big Jack, an already two-time felon, only sold big weight to major players around the city. In his eyes, if he went back to the penitentiary, they would bury him; regardless of the amount he was caught with, he would be up shit creek. So he had decided quite some time ago he was going out big or not at all. And his motto was to ball until he falls.

Over the next three months, Calliope and Compton were mostly confined to their bedroom, which was fine with Calliope, especially since Big Jack had bought them a thirty-two-inch television and had someone come and wire the illegal cable. This made Compton the happiest kid on the block because he could watch whatever he desired, all day if he wanted.

Big Jack always verbally expressed, “Y’all ain’t my got-damn kids and I ain’t y’all’s daddy. Shit, I hate fucking kids.” But he always bought them sneakers when he went to the mall and made sure the refrigerator was always running over with food and the cabinets with snacks. In the mornings, when they left to go to school, even though they had free lunch, he faithfully gave them lunch money.

In a twisted kind of way, having Big Jack there made Shelly treat them better, yet Calliope didn’t look at Shelly any different. She still wasn’t shit and wasn’t a mother to them in any kind of way, no matter how much she tried to fake it. Nor did Calliope have the least bit amount of trust for Big Jack or the people who scored the drugs from him. The men would openly gawk at her, like snakes eyeing a delectable brown mouse. It made her so uncomfortable, and she knew it would be only a matter of time before one of them was presented with an opportunity and might try something forcefully. That was her biggest fear: that one of them would rape her and steal her virginity, which she valued so much. Though Shelly had never had a talk with her to tell her that she was worthy and how much she should value her body, somewhere, somehow along the way she managed to figure that out for herself.