Ragee told me for weeks how proud of me he was at my handling of my mother’s death. He was right by my side as much as he could be, and even attended her funeral. I was surprised to see Uppercut with him on that sunny afternoon. I was even more shocked to see Uppercut so playful with Bobby, although he’d barely said more than five words to me. A strange human, he was. I didn’t care, only happy to see him.
My aunt, Sonya, helped me plan the repast. But only I paid for everything, other than some of the food people made. I had to cut into my savings for it, but my mother was worth every penny. We never discussed Paul again, but I felt her acknowledgment and apology for him in those few months we’d become mother and daughter for the first time.
The apartment didn’t feel the same again, even with Treesha and NeNe now staying with me. They were a great distraction and help with Bobby when Treesha wasn’t off drinking with the homies and smoking weed in the back of my unit. I got reported once and threatened to beat the shit out of her if she did it again.
In the mornings, I’d be up first to get Bobby and NeNe fed before Ms. Thompson arrived. Then I’d get myself together for work and finally wake Treesha up to get NeNe to the bus stop for preschool. It annoyed me that she slept so hard in spite of the house being live and loud. But I was being patient with my cousin. It took some people longer to grow up than others.
This one particular morning, I went to use the bathroom before waking Bobby up. When I came back, singing a goofy good morning song I made up as a corny mom, he didn’t stir. I went to massage him awake, continuing to sing the song. Bobby didn’t move. In fact, he was cold and dark. My whole body chilled. I yanked my baby out of his crib and realized how limp his body was. His lips were dark and eyes rolled to the back of his head. He wouldn’t move and wasn’t breathing. His heart was as still as a baby doll’s.
Bobby was dead.
A painful wail ripped from the bottom of my belly and I bawled so hard, it felt like I’d ripped my cords. Treesha was at my side, out of nowhere. She tried to take Bobby from my arms, but there was no way I was about to separate from him. All my hopes and dreams I gave up leaving school had been transferred to this little being. I no longer wanted good shit to happen for me. It was all supposed to happen to him. It was what kept me going since the first day I learned of his existence. This was not right. No way my baby could die while I slept next to him in the same room.
How?
I couldn’t stop crying, sobbing hard. I could hear Treesha yelling help into the phone, but couldn’t see her. I could see nothing but black grief.
A little over a year later, I was home alone. I had no roommates, no other signs of life but mine. Treesha moved in with a guy who said he was going to marry her. They got an apartment in Bridgeton six months ago. I couldn’t say I was lonely, but I did feel the hole in my heart. Raj advised that I move into a new apartment, seeing this one had such bad memories. But I wasn’t ready.
I quit the job at the diner, no longer killing myself with long days unnecessarily. I no longer needed the extra cash for Ms. Thompson. But for the first time since returning from Blakewood, I felt stuck and…hopeless. I had nothing to look forward to, and I’d put on more weight than I ever imagined. I was restless.
Sitting in the rocker in Bobby’s old nursery that I had not changed a bit since he left me, I picked up an old book. “Up In Black Arms.” It was given to me by the author himself, who I’d now seen on television on a couple of news shows. As I examined the book in my hands, I recalled his sage advice.
“I, personally, would recommend the route you’re taking. There isn’t much industry in some of those southern counties. Lots of culture, but you can find that just about anywhere. Leaving