Five years later…
When the bus driver saw me running toward the stop, tripping over a crack in the sidewalk and sprawling onto the concrete, I thought he might have enough heart to keep the doors open. I hoped he'd wait for me to pick myself up and board.
So much for wishful thinking. His ass pulled away from the curb the second he saw me laid out on Pitkin Avenue like a snow angel freshly fallen from the sky. Since he was leaving anyway, I stayed down, staring up at the gray expanse above, silently asking my mother what lesson she was trying to teach me.
It had been five years since I buried her, and nothing had gotten easier. The more I tried to stand upright, the harder life pushed back. It was a constant tug-of-war, and I couldn't decipher the lesson hidden in the struggle.
Time hadn't made me more punctual or less messy. I was still the same Stevie, just a bit more lost than before. I was always looking for a sign from my mother, something to tell me to keep pushing, that everything would work out the way it was supposed to. Something to make living without her bearable.
Newsflash: It never got easier without her here.
The last time I saw my father, he was in that church, trying to play the role of a dad. I hadn't spoken to him or seen him since the day I left him there. It usually took me a while to cut people off, but once I was done, the cord was severed completely. He was my father, and I would always love him because of that biological tie. However, I had no room in my heart for his selfishness. My mother put up with it until she couldn't anymore, and I refused to carry the burden of staying connected just because I happened to share his blood.
No thanks.
"Stevie, can you please get up off the ground? The next bus is coming."
Alex, my store uncle, peered down at me while I continued to stare at the sky. His brown skin, thick eyebrows, and headwrap were a familiar comfort. Alex—I'm sure that wasn't his real name—had always been my mother's favorite store owner. She stopped in for coffee every morning before her commute into the city. He gave her conversation and then 'forgot' to charge her for the brew because he valued her company more than the three dollars for cheap coffee.
Since my mother passed, Alex had stepped up as family. I loved him, but I knew I stressed him out daily. Not everyone possessed the strength my mother had when it came to dealing with me. Alex's store was on my block, and his entire family took turns running it. No one worked as hard as he did, though.
"What's the point, Alex? I missed the bus, I'm late on my portion of the rent, and my phone should be getting cut off in a few days." I closed my eyes, getting comfortable on a sidewalk that a family of rats had likely scurried across the night before.
He held out a hand, and I accepted his help up. The back of my jean jacket was dirty because I'd decided to lay there instead of waiting for the next bus like a normal person. Alex gave me a hug, then reached into his pockets. I shook my head and stepped back, almost landing on my ass again.
Alex stabilized me before counting out cash and forcing it into my hands. "You pay your phone bill."
"You have a wife, children, and a family to take care of… I cannot keep accepting money from you, Alex," I protested.
He waved me off, something he always did whenever he didn't want to hear my arguments. "You are family, Stevie. We spend some holidays together, and you babysit the kids when me and Rishi need the help. This is more for me than you… I need to keep an eye on you." He smiled, hugging me again before giving a quick push toward the bus stop, where the next bus was approaching.
"Thanks, Alex. I will pay you back as soon as I get some money."
"Nonsense… have a good day. Make lots of pretty nail art, huh?" He winked.
I smiled, paid my fare, and took a seat in the front.
Aside from my cousin Skyler and her daughter, Estella, Alex had been the only family I had since losing my mother. Well, my nanny too, but she didn't count. Alex was at her funeral and had honored his promise to always look out for me. When my mother made him make that promise, I was a reckless teen, and she wanted all eyes on me when hers couldn't be. Alex took it to heart. He had been keeping an eye on me since she passed, giving me that fatherly love I often missed. When I moved out of the neighborhood after my mother's death, he still kept in touch, making sure to see me twice a month.
I could count on him and his wife to swing by my apartment in the Bronx with food. They had welcomed me as their own, so they worried about me. Alex knew how my mother was, how much she kept an eye on me, and he wanted to honor the promise he made to her. When my cousin's boyfriend—that wasn't really her boyfriend—told her he wanted to move her out of the Bronx and into a new apartment, I convinced Skyler to move to my old neighborhood instead.
Mario was gone before my mother's coffin could even settle into the ground. He said I had too much going on and he didn't know how to help me through whatever I was going through. Guess I should be grateful that he was honest with me and didn't continue to string me along. I guess that was the sign I was looking for from Mama all along.
I should have known the minute I rushed into work late that there was going to be drama. There was always some kind of storm brewing in Cindy's shop. Despite the chaos, the shop was always packed and moving right along.
It had been a little over a year since I started renting a booth as a nail tech in Cindy's shop. The booth rent was fairly cheap for this part of Brooklyn, and I enjoyed being around people. I'd always taken clients in my apartment on the side, until disaster struck.
After booking a client who clearly saw me with her man, I decided to stop giving out my address and rent a public space with lots of witnesses around. That was the last time I ever booked another client in my home, and the last time I ever spoke to that man.
How was I supposed to know he had a girlfriend who was pregnant? On our date, he told me that he was single. With how big her stomach was, and how tightly balled her fists were, I could tell she got down and would beat my ass. The baby would probably get a few licks in on me, too.
Cindy was sweet and always looked out for me when I was late with my booth rent. She never made me feel like shit when I came in late handing her money. She had to be in her early forties with a thick Coke-bottle shape, small waist, and a short pixie haircut.
From the way all her different men came bringing her lunch, money, and flowers, Cindy was pressure back then, and even now. I bypassed Mandy and her boyfriend going at it again for the third time this week.
"That hoe came into this shop and stared at me the whole time she got her hair done. You not going to convince me that you not fucking her, Raymond!" She hauled off and slapped the hell out of him, while he tried to duck away from her crazy ass.
"I can't fucking control what a hoe do when she come in this bitch… give me the keys to my fucking car, Mandy. I already had to take a cab to get down here and you playing games."
Mandy rolled her neck while I hung my jacket up and went to make myself some tea to get my creative juices flowing. "Fuck you and those keys. I left them on the train this morning… good luck finding them." Her lips twitched up in a smirk while Raymond looked like he was about to murder her.
"Bitch, you did what?"
Cindy cleared her throat. "Mandy, take that shit on out my shop. It's way too early and clients are starting to come in."
Mandy happily floated past her man, who went through eight different emotions at once while she was in complete peace with ruining his. As she and Raymond left the shop, Priscilla walked in at the same time.
Priscilla was as close as I was going to get to a best friend. We met a year and a half ago at a bar, got to talking, and we had been locked in ever since. She was the girl who got men to do whatever she wanted. If she wanted her bills paid, she had them paid by some sucker who just wanted to smell her pussy.
She didn't work because why would she? If she had men paying her bills, there was no reason to get up and clock into a job that paid less than what she made from them. I watched as she shook off her Burberry trench coat, which cost nearly as much as my portion of the rent. She sat down the coffee she had brought for us to enjoy while she filled me in on her life and I gave her a fill-in.
"Good morning, Stevie!" She smiled as she bounced her ass down into my chair, flipping her jet-black hair over her shoulder.
"Morning, Priscilla. I thought you would still be in Jamaica." I slid back in my chair and gathered all my things to get ready on her nails.
She texted me earlier in the week to reschedule because she was going to be out of town. I never rebooked because I planned to use the two-hour block to sit in my thoughts and figure out how to get my portion of the rent up in three days.
After my mother passed away, I was able to handle the rent with the rest of the insurance money. However, that eventually came and went, and I was stuck having to pay the rent alone. I posted an ad on social media for a roommate—dangerous, I know—and I ended up finding a bunch of weirdos that seemed too dangerous to coexist with just for rent.
It wasn't until my cousin's mother died—a curse for sure—that she asked to move in with her daughter. Skyler and Estella were both great, and we were the Golden Girls.
"He canceled our trip because something came up, so I'm here in the cold annoyed." She rolled her brown eyes and looked at her nails, which seemed perfect enough to me.
She was a bit dramatic about the weather. It wasn't cold. I think she just wanted to wear that expensive coat. Then again, if I had the option to be in Jamaica rather than Brooklyn, New York, I probably would be just as dramatic as Priscilla was being.
"Well, at least you can brave the cold with me," I snickered. She pinched my arm and laughed.
"Bitch, you need to get out of town or something… always at work or home. Where's your life, Stevie? I know you mentioned your mom passed, but damn… she wouldn't want you to be boring."
It stung whenever someone spoke about my mother. "Living your life costs money. I'm late on my portion of the rent again."
"Oh, I can help you out with that." Priscilla motioned for me to give her my phone, and I hesitantly handed it over toward her.
I watched as she went between her phone and then mine. "Done… sent you thirty thousand dollars. Keep five, and then send me back twenty-five thousand," she said like it was nothing to send someone thirty thousand dollars to their account.
I slid from my table and looked at her like she was doing good drugs. "Priscilla, what… where did… what the hell?"
She laughed. "I have a sugar daddy who gives me whatever I want, and I just needed to transfer it from this international account to a US account to avoid the pesky fees. You have a credit union account, right?"
"Yeah. My mom added me before she passed." I looked at my account balance, and then back at Priscilla.
"Perfect. I have a few more transactions to make, so can I use your account? Of course I'll make sure to kick you some money, too."
"Is this even leg—"
She loudly clapped her hands while looking at her phone. "I have a great idea… let's go out the country and escape the real world."
"Um, I would, but I need to save this money."
She sighed. "I'm inviting you, Stevie… everything paid for, and you don't have to pay anything. Do you have a passport?"
"Yes."
The only reason I had gotten a passport was because my mother forced me to. For her fiftieth birthday, we went to Mexico and had the time of our lives. By the end of the trip, neither of us wanted to go home. We even joked about abandoning our life back in the States, opening a smoothie stand on the beach, and living out the rest of our life in Mexico as expats. I missed her so much that these memories never felt good.
"Girl, we are going on a trip that you're never going to forget. Pay your rent and go on and load your Shein cart with some clothes because we're going to the Bahamas." She jumped out of her chair and did a little dance. "I will book our flights soon… we're going to have a ball."
The thought of leaving behind all the stress and depression in New York sounded like a dream. If she had thirty thousand to wire to me from her sugar daddy's account, then surely she could afford a trip and to cover me.
"Okay," I agreed, hoping that my mother would show up this time and give me the sign I needed to make a decision like this.
I guess no sign was a sign to go and enjoy my life for once.