Homies, Lovers & Friends: A Brooklyn Love Story

1

Michelle

The sweet smell of pancakes and syrup made me rise out of bed quicker than the alarm that was blaring in my left ear. I quickly got out the bed and wrapped a robe around my body. Before I could even get to the bedroom door, I felt my hair being ripped out of my scalp. A high-pitched yelp escaped from my lips as I felt myself being pulled back onto the bed. For some reason, I kept my eyes closed while being dragged back to the bed, but opened them when I felt my body crash onto the memory foam mattress. Once my eyes opened, I looked into the eyes of my boyfriend. His eyes were red and he held me down on the bed with such force that I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to.

Where the fuck was you last night? he snarled lowly. If he was in here choking me out, who was in the kitchen?

I… I had a late client last night, Tasheem, I choked out as the grip of his hands loosened from around my neck.

Last night I had a client who always paid well and tipped better. She arranged for a car to come get me and bring me to her home. I did her hair and made the money that I knew we needed in this house. We didn’t get finished to well around two in the morning. I knew Tasheem would have a fit about the whole thing, yet I needed the money. Each time I needed money for something, he never had money, but was always borrowing money from me. So, yes, I decided to gamble and get the money. It was an easy thousand dollars; still, was it worth the ass whipping that I knew I was about to get? Tasheem wasn’t home, so I accepted the job and went to chase the bag. Apparently, Tasheem missed the mogul talk on DJ Khaled’s snapchat.

What kind of fucking client you had late at night? You cheating on me with another nigga? he asked as he applied pressure to my neck causing me to choke.

No! I managed to choke out and he released his grip.

He leaned off the bed and stood up straight. My parents are out here for the week. They’ll be staying in our bedroom and we’ll take the couch, he felt the need to inform me.

W…what?

He jumped at me and I flinched and climbed back on the bed. Is that a fucking problem? I pay the bills in this bitch, whose name is it in? he felt the need to remind me.

He turned and left out the room and closed the door behind him. The only reason he didn’t go further was because his parents were outside the room. I never understood how something so evil could come from the sweetest people in the world. Meghan and Todd were the nicest people ever. How could they have created the monster that I laid beside every night? Tasheem had caused me to lose so much in my life that the hate was there right along with the fear that crippled me from leaving. Where would I go? Once upon a time ago I had good paying job at Naomi’s shop, but she fired me when I continued to show up to work with bruises visible under my makeup. She didn’t want to, yet I knew she was doing it hoping that this would push me to leave.

All it did was cause me to gain a little more weight and become a homebody. I did hair out of my kitchen or traveled if my client was willing to pay a little extra. Me and Naomi didn’t have a relationship at all. She told me she couldn’t sit back and watch me destroy my life. So, here I was living with a man who beat my ass when he felt like it. My cellphone startled me out of my trip down my shitty ass memory lane. Grabbing it, I slid my finger across the touch screen and placed the phone to my ear.

Good morning, did you forget about me? my cousin, Kelsie, yelled playfully through the phone.

Sighing into the phone, I attempted to get out the bed for the second time. Nope, just was getting out the bed to head your way. You need anything while I’m on my way there?

No, I called and ordered us some breakfast. Just get here already, she rushed me. After talking for a bit, I ended the call and went into the bathroom to get ready.

Tossing on a pair of leggings, a t-shirt, and a pair of Yeezys, I tossed a Dad hat on my bed hair and walked out the room. Tasheem was sitting at the table with his parents, eating breakfast, like he didn’t just choke me out moments before.

Michelle, I was wondering when you would get up… How are you, baby? Meghan got up and hugged me.

Hey, Mama Meg. I hugged her back while watching Tasheem silently ask me where I was going. I would stay and have breakfast with you guys, but I need to get to an important client, I answered his question as I made my way over to his father and kissed him on the cheek.

I’ll walk you out, he insisted, and I kissed him on the forehead while holding his shoulders down. I could feel his body tense up and he probably wanted to slam my head on the table. Tasheem would never do it in front of his mother, so I was taking advantage of this moment.

No need, baby. I’ll be back later tonight, I said and waved before quickly making it out of the house before he could follow behind me.

The walk to the train felt like everything on my skin. It was January and whoever said New Year, new me, lied like hell. I was still living the same life I lived in 2016. Tasheem promised so many times with each new year that he would change and be better for me… for us. He stopped two years ago, because I guessed he knew he was lying to me and there was no need. At one point, I had a career that paid well, a car, and dignity. He stripped me of everything I had and belittled me on a daily basis. He was all I knew since I was sixteen years old. When he wanted the big girl out of all the little hoes that flocked to him, I felt honored that he even noticed me.

Soon, I realized it wasn’t about him liking me because I was big. I was easier to manipulate and abuse because he knew I wouldn’t say anything out of embarrassment. My own mother didn’t know what type of hell I was living in because I refused to disappoint her. According to her, I had this amazing career that paid well. Tasheem was the man of my dreams and provided me with any and everything I needed. She had no clue that this nigga was putting me through it on a daily basis and that sometimes I contemplated suicide. Jogging down the subway stairs, I quickly slid my metro card onto the turnstile and made my way down another set of steps to catch the train that had just arrived in the station. Being away from the house for a few hours was just what I needed for the day.

Kelsie’s house was a few blocks from the subway. I knew if I called her she would have come and picked me up, yet I didn’t want to bother her. As I walked from the train to Kelsie’s apartment, I checked my messages and all of them were from Tasheem. He had sent sixteen messages during the half an hour ride from our place to Kelsie’s. He wanted to know where I was at and who I was going to be with. For the life of me, I didn’t know when he transferred from being my man to my father. Last I checked, I was a grown ass woman and could make my own decisions. Toggling the ‘do not disturb’ button on my iPhone, I tossed it into my purse and continued my walk.

Kelsie lived in Gowanus Houses in Flatbush. She complained daily about living there and having to struggle with her daughter. I would have taken her apartment in a heartbeat. She had her own place and didn’t have to deal with anyone’s shit unless she chose to. Me on the other hand, I barely had enough money to put in for things for the house, so where the hell was I going? The downstairs door was never locked, although it should have been, so I walked in and took the pissy elevator up to her floor. The florescent lights lit the way as I made it down the tiled hallway to her burnt orange door with a tarnished golden knocker on it. Stepping to the side, I banged the knocker on the door and waited for her to answer.

Must you knock so dang hard? She giggled as she held the door open for me.

You know how you are with your music or headphones in. I needed to be sure you heard me banging on this damn door.

Kelsie always kept a nice and clean apartment. It felt like home when you crossed the threshold into her apartment. She always had candles burning that made you just want to nap on her couch for the rest of the day.

Your breakfast is probably cold, I already ate mine, she informed me and took a seat on her black leather couch.

What you want done? You never told me, the same thing, right?

Actually, I went to get me some bundles and want you to install them for me. You really need to start selling them. You know how much mone… what happened to your neck, Michelle? She stopped mid-sentence to examine my neck.

Nothing, don’t worry about it. I dropped my bag along with my coat onto the couch and went into the kitchen.

What do you mean don’t worry about it? Why the hell is he still putting his hands on you? She followed me into the kitchen and continued with her questions.

I came in late last night and he thought I was cheating on him. You’re dragging it with all these questions.

Kelsie looked at me as she held her hands on her hips and shook her head. You need to leave, Michelle. He has caused you to lose so much and now you’re sitting here with red marks on your skin. She touched my neck.

I didn’t come here for all of this, Kelsie. You don’t think I know how bad my life is? My life is shit and I’m just existing at this point. She had me so upset that I had lost my appetite. It was the same shit with Kelsie each time I came over or hung out with her. She constantly reminded me of the hell that I lived in when I didn’t need any reminder.

All I want is better for you, Michelle. You’re not happy and I see it on your face. It’s like I’m looking at a shell of you, babe. You know you can come here to live until you get yourself together, she offered.

You have too much going on with Miracle. That would be me putting more burden on you. I can handle myself, I promise. Kelsie offered a weak smile and decided to switch the subject.

Let’s get to getting my hair laid. You know I need to keep this hair done or else I’ll look like one of these ratchet ass chicks. She giggled and I went to wash my hands before starting on her hair.

2

Kelsie

The silence in my house was perfect as I sipped my coffee and waited until the alarm on my phone sounded off. In approximately ten minutes, my morning would go from being so peaceful and calm to absolute chaos. My daughter would start fighting me to get ready for school, which she loved, but hated because she had to wake up extra early. Miracle was just what her name was—a miracle. My daughter had to be a fighter since the first day she was born. She was born early at six months and weighed one pound. The doctors didn’t think she was going to make it, yet she proved them all wrong. To society she wasn’t perfect, but to me she couldn’t be more perfect.

Miracle had cerebral palsy and we both struggled daily with it. I’ve come to grips that my baby would never run across a park and play carelessly. She had therapy three times a week, went to a specialized school way across the borough, and always managed to have a smile on her face. She could walk, but it was very hard and painful. We always made it work because if she could fight through all those setbacks, then I could fight hard as her mother to make sure she never wanted for anything. Me and her father shared a seven-year relationship before I got pregnant and we broke up. Marcus liked to deny that he was the father of Miracle, which was so sad.

He claimed I messed around with someone else because he wasn’t the father. The truth of the matter was that he was embarrassed by his daughter’s disability. It was funny how he denied her, yet his mother claimed her to the fullest. She came and got her for weekends to give me a break and called often about her granddaughter. Still, her son wouldn’t come around or give money to make sure his daughter was taken care of. It was expensive trying to care for her on my own, so I had to go on public assistance. Trying to maintain rent, a child and keeping myself afloat was too much. It wasn’t something I wanted to do, yet it helped me out and allowed me to get a job.

Miracle, it’s time to wake up, baby. I shook her gently and she turned and opened one eye and looked at me through it. Come on, Sunshine. Your bus will be here in an hour and mommy has to go to work, I begged, and she stretched her arms and legs out as best she could.

Miracle could stand, but not for long periods of time. When she was younger it was fine, but now that she’s older with more weight it became harder for her to push all her weight onto her weakened legs. Even with it being a struggle, she still got up, dressed herself and walked to the bus stop with me.

Mama, can I wear the pink dress today? she yawned and stood up and looked at me for an answer. Nodding my head, she made her way to the bathroom down the hall while I picked the dress out.

While she washed her face and brushed her teeth, I made her bed and laid her clothes on her bed. Once she was finished, she came out and went to get dressed. I’m going to make your breakfast, alright?

Okay, Mama, she agreed, and I went to the kitchen to make her breakfast.

It pained me that her father didn’t want anything to do with her. When I saw his post on Facebook, it irritated me that he could floss with all these designer clothes, but had me and his daughter living in the projects on welfare. Then his little girlfriend always felt the need to flaunt all he did for her. She knew he had a daughter and one would think she would make him do the right thing. I made barely enough to make sure we were straight working for the Parks Department. It was hooked up through public assistance to make sure I worked while receiving the benefits. It was humiliating picking up trash in the park while people looked at you. It was what I had to do to make sure my child got her medical services and food was in her stomach.

After getting Miracle on the bus, I made my way to the train to head to the worksite. We worked all over the city at different parks. I was just there to do a job and bring my ass home. Some of the chicks had long nails, designer bags and all the above. They were so busy gossiping about whose man was sleeping with whose man that they could never do their damn job. It was me who came behind them and cleaned up what they missed or didn’t care to see. Dialing Michelle’s number, I waited for her to answer. When she didn’t, I left her a quick message before getting on the train.

Me and my cousin were more like sisters than cousins. Our mothers were sisters