my weirdness. Now, ready or not, I had to make life happen for myself.
My mother wasn’t home when I made it to her trailer. It was a mess: food everywhere, paperwork stacked on the tables and counters, mostly medical bills. Dishes filled the sink, and the toilet and bathtub had rings in them. It was heartbreaking, but not something I could focus on. I dropped my things and walked half a mile to the bank. Within thirty minutes or so, I’d opened up a checking account with one hundred dollars and was able to deposit a check written to me by a NormaJean McNeil. She wanted me to use the money to address my pregnancy, and I would. Not for an abortion, but to get me to the next step of establishing myself.
When I made it back home, my mother was there. As I walked through the door, she was leaning over the counter, searching through medication bottles.
“Ma.” Slowly, she turned to me, not reacting to my presence right away. My mother looked thinner, weak—nothing like I imagined. “You kept telling me you were okay.”
“Tori?” she questioned before turning around completely. “I thought you was getting in tonight.”
“Ma!” I inspected her from head to toe. Her hair was a netted mess, clothes twisted and rolled sloppily. And she couldn’t stand up straight. “What’s going on here?”
Suddenly, she sputtered, “Tori! Oh my god, Tori!” I ran to her and she snatched me up into a hug instantly. “I didn’t want to ask you to quit school for me. This shit is bad, Tori! I’m really sick. Can’t work to pay these bills!” She cried into my ponytail. “The park tryna put me out, and my benefits ain’t kick in yet. I’m sorry, man. I ‘on’t know what to do!”
She blubbered her words, and I felt the tremor in her frame. Not from tears, but subtle ones obvious from illness. My mother had never been so emotional, and I couldn’t remember the last time she hugged me. Not at my Margaret Maureen’s funeral, and not when I left for BSU. I felt the echoes of her pain in her spine. I had no clue my mother was this broken.
“Okay, Ma.” I backed us into the living room. “Let’s sit you down.”
We were both teary messes. A first for us. But heartache can bind people, especially family.
“Ma,” I started, hoping she could hear me over her low groans. It didn’t matter. I had a new plan that I would execute. “I’m home for good. I’m not going back. I’m going to take care of you. I’ll start with cleaning up around here, then I’ll go through your bills and get them in order. We’ll pay what can be paid until I can find a job. But we’re getting out of Maurberry Village.”
She quieted, eyes bulged. “How?”
“I’m going to figure it out. Someplace nice with…three bedrooms.”
“Three bedrooms? Tori, what we need that for? This two-bedroom is all we need.”
I wanted to remind her of the nightmares that occurred for me here, but thought against it. I refused to think about anything negative or impossible.
“Mommy,” I murmured, swallowing. “I’m…ummm. I’m pregnant. I went to school and got pregnant.” My throat thickened at the disappointment I felt verbalizing my mistake. “I don’t want you to take care of me or the baby. I don’t want you to worry about anything but fighting this MS thing. I’m going to do everything else.”
“Oh, my shit!” she chirped, curled stiffly in the chair. “Tori, you gonna have a baby? I’mma be a grandma?” I didn’t expect her to be happy for me. More hot tears fell from my face. I chased them with my hands as I nodded. “Oh, shit! I remember you, Renata and Treesha, and them running around here talking about how many kids y’all want and what you was gonna name ‘em. Now, my little girl’s having her a real baby.”
I fell to my knees and hugged my mother again, squeezing her tight as I bawled out in tears.
That acceptance was cool water to my hot shame. It was all I needed to get started.
It was tiring, but perfect. In less than two months, I had a job working at a diner and moved my mother and me into a three-bedroom apartment inside a brand new development. I used the money from NormaJean’s charity to fix up my mother’s car so I could get back and forth to work and take her to her doctor’s appointments.