Down Chick

Chapter Twenty-Four: Promises Never Prevail (Part II)

Ignoring them seemed the easiest thing to do because it was obvious that Rome and Miguel were determined to piss Angel off. I could see it no doubtt about it ending in a fight. It seemed as though jealousy were in the air, but with Rome being the kind of nigga that he was I doubted that he would ever indulge in something as petty as jealousy. If he did, he'd certainly never admit it and he'd probably take the highest offense to it. So instead of listening to them argue and nitpick I turned my attention away to our surroundings. I was surprised we were hanging out here in the open where anything could happen. Surprised that Miguel, Ale and the others felt comfortable being here. Me, on the other hand, my nerves were all over the place. I was feeling a bit paranoid ever since Ebony and Shade got shot.

It was a reminder that regardless of what we did we weren't fully safe and probably never would be. Inhaling deeply, I glanced around the room not seeing any familiar faces, which really shouldn't have been that surprising. I ddn't get out too much these days. I had been too busy working, which I needed to get back to. I intended to do so tomorrow. Angel wouldn't like it, but if he was so pressed about it, he could send in some men to watch over me while I worked. I needed my independence that working gave me. It was beginning to feel a bit too easy to live off him and do nothing but socialize. I hadn't ever been able to do that, except with Ambrianna and that had been a long time ago.

I turned back toward the table just as I heard my name called from the distance. I groaned knowing exactly who it was. Angel had been the only person besides Maria that had ever met my crack fiend mother. Now everyone would. I lifted one hand to my face in annoyance and watched as she came to a stop in front of me. Looking at her I could see the strain that the drugs had been having on her system. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face was thin almost if skin on bones and her clothes hung loosely off her. It saddened me honestly. This was the woman that I had looked up to at one point in my life. A woman that had been considered so beautiful that men had fell all over her.

Now she was turn down to a woman who sniffled and scratched a lot. It was a tell-tell sign that she was on drugs.

"Keisha, baby," she said, lifting one hand to caress my cheek.

I immediately leaned back. "Monica," I retorted.

"I missed you," she told me. "I don't even get to see my own little girl anymore. I can't remember the last time I was able to hold you and know that everything was going to be alright." She ran her hands up and down her arms like she was cold. "You've--we've been so separated from one another. I went my way and you went yours. I want to be a part of your life again."

I sighed. "I've told you what to do if you want to remain in my life, Monica. If you truly want to maintain having any relationship with me, then get help. Go downtown and get some help, if not for me than for yourself. You're not even forty-five yet and you're on a fast road to leaving everything behind."

Despite everything that I felt inside, the anger that burned within me for her not being woman enough to carry her troubles and burdens, the rage that seethed within from her not being there for me--I couldn't turn my back on the fact that every time I saw her she looked worse than she did before. It was a clear sign that time for her was running out. I'd never call her mother again, but she was still someone that I didn't want to see leave this planet. I understood that she was weak and hadn't been strong enough to face her problems--and maybe for the first time in my life I was looking at things in the perspective that maybe I could've done something to help her.

It was a place that I didn't want to visit--a place that left me feeling like I had been a terrible daughter to her. Acceptng responsibility for what one did that was wrong was difficult to accept, difficult to admit, but a part of maturing and aging. I hadn't fought for her. I had allowed her to turn away to those harmful drugs. It wasn't my fault that she had started using drugs, but maybe I was guilty for not mentioning it to someone that could've helped.