Unique
It was another long night in the hot, muggy, and overcrowded apartment. One extra person made a big difference, especially with it not being Curtis. Needless to say, Unique didn't sleep well again.
Wednesday morning crept in, and Unique decided to take her third day off from her new job, even though she was on probation. It didn't matter though. She would be quitting before the ninety days anyway, so the welfare office wouldn't take anything out of her check on the first. She didn't mind working, but without a GED, it was hard to really get a job worth her time.
Working on these little piece of jobs the county sent her on was fine, but they barely made any difference between working and being on welfare. She would only see about ten extra bucks in her pocket from the job, if she lost her TANF grant. Her worker always gave her ninety days to keep her full grant, after deductions for travel and childcare, which she didn't pay.
Mrs. Johnson down the street would always see that Apple got off to kindergarten and picked her up for free.
Actually Mrs. Johnson was really nice to herâsomething about her knowing Javina back in the day. Whatever, it didn't matter, as long as she picked up Apple and kept her safe until Unique got home, and as long as she didn't charge her. And it never mattered anyway because on day eighty-nine Unique was done.
Nonetheless, sometimes she didn't have to quit, she would get fired. But she had planned to blame her family for all of it this time.
Nobody would understand her devastation over the loss of her mother's house, but she was going nuts behind this, with nobody picking up the phone when she called, or when they did, not answering direct questions. Folks were acting like Javina Nation didn't have nothing to do with that house on Appaloosa Way.
“My mother owned that house,” she told one lady after a slew of redirected calls. She didn't even know what department the woman worked in, but the woman was clicking stuff and looking stuff up. She even had the nerve to argue with Unique about the house.
“No, maybe
you
have the wrong damn address. How I'ma have the wrong address to my mama's own damn house?” Unique argued back. “I am calm . . . as calm as I can be. The house got blown up, lady. Do you not hear me? Shit! Put somebody on the phone that can hear me with some understanding, because you are talking crazy to me. I don't know no Mr. Sinclair or whoever you are talking about. No, no, no, you got it wrong. My baby sister's name is Sinclair. Maybe my mama put the house in her name, which would be crazy, but you know, I don't know.”
Unique thought about that possibility now.
What if the house was in Sinclair's name? She was Mama's favorite, after all. But if she knew how much Sinclair cared about it, she'd be regretting that choice right now. Sinclair is already acting like hadn't nothing happened, hitting the streets with her friends.
Unique was thinking this because, when she got home the day before, she caught a crackhead trying all the doorknobs of all the apartments. When he saw her, he ran off. Thank goodness because, sho' nuff, her door was unlocked.
Sinclair didn't come in for a couple of hours, dragging up from the bus stop with that boy Malcolm from the
P
. I
shoulda just went off on her ass right then. She needs to let the P
go now. Them folks don't care about her. All she needs to care about is the house.
Sinclair was careless, and in Unique's mind, this arrangement wasn't gonna work. Sinclair didn't even realize how much shit needed to be done now about the mess there on Appaloosa Way.
And somehow it's all fallen on me. Damn!
Unique knew she needed to go by there and see what was what, but she had things to do. She was way too busy.
You would think somebody else would help with stuff. But nobody knows how to do nothin'! Where the hell is Tanqueray?
The day before Unique had lugged all her kids all the way down to the welfare office, only to find out that her social worker was out sick. She was told to come back the next day.
“Can't y'all call somebody? Daaaamn!” Unique screeched at the receptionist, who couldn't care less. “You act like I got bus fare and shit.”
The woman handed Unique a book of bus tickets and looked around her to the next person in line.
“I'm not cooking no damn breakfast again this morning and doing all that shit. I don't give a care what they think,” Unique said to herself. She stepped from the shower and wiped the steam off the mirror.
I'm so sick of this welfare shit. You just don't know. Stupid, weak jobs that go nowhere. I need to get myself back in school. If I get a degree
. . .” She stared at the face that told the lie. “You ain't gon' do shit,” her reflection responded, killing her pleasant mood.
Sliding into her robe that Sinclair had returned to the hook, she moved out of the bathroom and into the kitchen to cook breakfast, repeating her actions from the morning before. The social worker would always ask the children what they'd eaten for breakfast, when was the last time they'd been spanked, all kinds of shit like that.
It was the price Unique had to pay for being a teenage mother. But Unique had learned a lot since the age of thirteen. She'd learned how to work the system, and been doing it for a long time. Having Marquis at thirteen hadn't left her with much opportunity to learn much else.
Then a year later, Cammie came. Unique thought for sure she was gonna get married to Cammie's daddy, but at fourteen, come on, especially with her messing with Gina's daddy on the side, who was an older man, and really seemed to care.
She had Gina when she was sixteen. That's when Mama actually realized she and Gina's daddy had been messing around. Gina's daddy, who was the custodian at school disappeared after that.
But it was when she got pregnant with Apple that Mama put her ass out, and she landed here in the West End. She was eighteen by then and couldn't give a good gotdamned. Unique knew fo' sho she had to call it quits after that. No more babies, not for a while anyway.
Now she was twenty-three and hadn't been pregnant in a while, thank the Lord. In all honesty, she was kinda happy, because she and her new man Curtis were having troubles. The week before she'd told him she might be pregnant, and he was scared shitless.
Punk
! But she wasn't pregnant, just late. “Rosie” had made a visit shortly after watching Mama's house take off like a Sputnik missile. Fortunately, it was a light visit, considering Curtis needed some persuasion not to leave yesterday.
They had gotten home from the welfare office, found the door unlocked, Cammie was begging for food. Right before Unique was about to go off, Curtis walked in. She took him in the bedroom and did him over with a quickness, too quick for her, as a matter a fact, but he claimed his minute-man act was because of Cammie's crying and mess, which he went to handle.
Curtis knew how to handle Cammie. Took her in the room, and she was quiet right away. Unique didn't know what magic he had. When she slipped on her robe and came out of the room, she was gonna go in the bedroom where Curtis and Cammie were, but Gina started crying, and Marquis start acting all wild, talking all crazy and stuff about Curtis needed to get out and wasn't helping, where Cammie was concerned.
Marquis had his nerve. When he was a baby, he cried all the time. Then when he turned two, he was bad as hell. Now, he was just plain ol' mean.
By the time Unique went to go see what was what, Curtis was coming out of the room, and Cammie was 'sleep all up under the covers, or faking it. Thanks to Marquis and his mouth, Curtis was mad. He'd apparently heard some of the stuff Marquis had said and left anyway. She hated how Marquis felt about her boyfriends, and was always messing shit up for her.
Unique wished she'd known his father better, to look for any resemblances between them.
But, then again, Mama was the meanest woman in the world. So maybe he got all the evil-spiritedness from her.
While scrambling the eggs, Unique started to think,
Maybe I'm sterile
,
or just really stressed-out, all these jobs I've been starting and quitting this past year. Dang! And the welfare . . . man, the welfare is tripping, always talking about cutting somebody off for one reason or another.
She had to admit, life was easier when all she had to worry about was whether it was a boy or girl kicking around inside her.
The phone rang. She answered it, and the automated voice announced, “
We have a collect call from Contra Costa County West Detention Facility, Richmond, California. Inmate number 875948E
.”
Unique started to hang up but then realized that the convict calling her could be her brother. She pushed the appropriate number to accept the call. “Hello?”
“Unique,” Debonair blurted. “Waddup?”
She wanted to say, “Mama's house, nigga
.
” She answered, “Hey, yo'self.”
“I need some money on my books?”
“Marquis turns ten today. You gon' miss it.”
“Whatever. I'm not his daddy. But, then again, who is?” he jibed, as was common when it came to Marquis. “What about my books? They haven't moved me yet, but they're going to, real soon. It's hell in here.”
“Yeah, that's what I've heard, but you know what . . . it's kinda hellish out here too,” Unique said, noticing her household coming alive. She shook her head no in answer to Cammie's request for a cookie so early, and Cammie began to cry.
“Whatever, girl. You know you tough. You hangin' in, unlike me.”
“Deb, stop talking about yo'self for a minute. Somebody did a drive-by on Mama's house andâ”
“What! What!” his voice hit a high, squeaky pitch.
“Yeah. Nigga with a mouth fulla gold. Sin said he was the same dude in the courtroom when they sentenced you.”
Marquis flopped on the sofa, snatching the remote from Gina, who in turn threw a Hot Wheels car at him.
“Stop it now! Stop!” Unique barely moved the phone away in time, to avoid yelling in Debonair's ear.
“Mouth fulla gold teef?”
“I dunno. I was too busy looking at the grenade flying out the window.” Unique stomped over to the kids and snatched the remote from Marquis. She pointed toward the second bedroom, where Gina, Cammie, and Apple normally slept when Curtis wasn't there.
Unique snapped her fingers, but Marquis' evil scowl told her he wasn't gonna obey her. He just rolled his eyes, got up, and headed toward the front door.
“Mommy, Marky is leaving!” Apple said, distracting Unique from her telephone conversation with her brother. “He didn't eat breakfast.”
“I know, baby,” she told Apple in a soft voice. “Marquis, where are you going?” she asked in a louder, harsher tone.
“Where is he going?” Sinclair asked, catching the tail end of the argument as she same out of the bathroom.
Marquis yelled, “None of your business!” and slammed the door behind him.
Unique threw up her hands in frustration.
Sinclair headed out the door after him. “Li'l nigga, I know you didn't just talk to me like that.”
“Just leave him,” Unique said. A sigh of irritation followed her words.
Sinclair allowed the door to slam in her face.
“Grenade?” Debonair yelled into the phone.
Suddenly Unique could hear the noise in the background on Debonair's end of the phone. Apparently the guards didn't like his last comment.
“I'm cool. I'm cool. Back up. Shit! I'm talking to my sister. Somebody threw a grenade at my mama's house. I'm upset! Yeah, yeah, I'm cool. Sorry,” Debonair said, explaining his outburst to the guards.
“Did you tell the cops?”
“I'm not stupid. Yeah, I played dumb, considering I don't know what the hell is going on anyway.”
Living off the system now, enjoying three squares a day, and the structure of the jail system, Debonair had no clue what was happening in the real world. Soon they would be moving him into the prison system, and things would change drastically.
“Anyway, nobody got hurt, but the house is messed up a little bit,” she lied. “I have to call the insurance company again tomorrow. I haven't been able to reach anybody, or get any information about Mama owning the house.”
Debonair's end of the phone was silent.
“Deb, I'ma try to come see you on Saturday. I'll put twenty dollars on your books.”
“What about my car? Did it mess up my car?”
“Nah,” she lied.
Debonair, satisfied that all was well in the hood, said, “Twenty? You only got twenty? That ain't gonna hit on shit.”
“Damn that! You act like you staying in the Hilton. Twenty better work, nigga. It's all I got. I got kids andâ”
“Keep it then,” he said, trying to be smart. “Put it toward the busted windows. I know the windows is pro'ly all busted out.”
“Windows?” Unique hesitated.
Why put him through it
?
He had enough on his plate, just watching his back, pretty boy that he is.
“I told you, I'ma call the insurance company, but yeah.”
“Good luck getting money from that,” he mumbled. “Yeah, you, umm, you keep that twenty.”
Debonair backed off the money quicker than Unique expected, raising her suspicion. “No, I'ma bring you the money,” she insisted now.
“No. Look, y'all need to just let the man handle that house. I don't want you guys messing around there.”
“Why? And who was dude that blew it up?” Unique filled the girls' plates with the eggs and warm toast that she'd finished preparing while on the phone.