Imani All Mine Page 2

  It was like Mama to think what I done was all about her, like I done something to her. I couldn’t hardly tell myself, but I couldn’t say that to Mama. That wouldn’t make no sense to her, so I rolled over and put my back to her. I wasn’t thinking about her so much as I was thinking about my baby. I had to protect my baby.

  That’s why I think Mrs. Poole wrong with her stink breath. Because Imani loved me right then. I could feel it. I ain’t have to wait for her to be born for her to love me. I ain’t have to wait for her to be born to love her. She my baby.

  Mama kept on asking and slapping. Who the father? What nigger you had the baby with? What’s his name?

  I ain’t say nothing. I just curled myself up around my baby. I couldn’t say his name to Mama. I couldn’t even say it to myself.

  Finally she ask me, without a slap, You happy now? Then she let me alone. She wasn’t getting nothing out of me. She left the room and I got up and dressed real quick. I’d missed my school bus, but I could still take the city bus and not miss all of first period. I was relieved it was over, that Mama knew. She ain’t really hurt me. I just wanted to get to school.

  When I left the house, Mama was in her room. She ain’t even come out, which was just fine with me. She was probably still sitting in there when the school nurse called her to tell her my water broke.

  I ain’t even know what it was. I was in my second-period math class with Mr. Crowley. He this white man who’s all sucked-up looking and he got these brown teeth all piled on top of each other. He don’t never leave the overhead projector where he be scribbling out problems and they solutions.

  I felt like I had to go to the bathroom real bad and I could hardly hold it. I was waving my hand real wild, but Mr. Crowley ain’t even look at me. He was explaining how to turn fractions into decimals and decimals into fractions. He finally called on me after I called out his name, and ask me to solve the problem. I told him I had to go to the lavatory, and you know what he had the nerve to tell me? I couldn’t go. He had already give out two lavatory passes. I swear, that’s the craziest thing I ever heard. He only give two bathroom passes a period because he think we be trying to go to the bathroom just to miss class. Maybe that’s all right for boys, but don’t he know what girls be having to do in the lavatory sometimes? Don’t he think we might need more than two passes during class? I wasn’t stutting Mr. Crowley and his rules just then. I got up and headed for the door. Soon as I started walking, I was dripping. I could feel it. By the time I made it out the door, I was starting to gush, and the lavatory was way at the end of the hall. Mr. Crowley was right behind me. He seen it, too. My sweat pants was stained dark. I was so embarrassed. Mr. Crowley grabbed me by the shoulders and ask me if I was all right. I told him I want to go to the lavatory, but he say he was taking me to see the nurse. I think he knew the baby was coming. I ain’t want to go, but I knew I should, so he walked with me leaning on him and told me everything would be fine, and I was thinking he was wishing he had just give me a lavatory pass when I ask for one.

  The nurse is this black lady. I had never even been in her office before, just past it. She called a ambulance. Then she phoned Mama and tell her to meet us at ECMC.

  That’s the county hospital. Some people don’t like it because it’s the welfare hospital, but it’s all right with me. I was born there.

  I wasn’t really even scared until I heard the ambulance come up with that siren going. I ain’t want to get in it, but the nurse say it was the best and safest way for me. She say she was going to be with me all the way. She was real calm. Her breath was even calm. It smelled like peppermint. She say she had three children and I would be fine. All the way to the hospital she sat next to me, patting my hand while the ambulance attendant ask me a bunch a questions about my prenatal care, how advanced my pregnancy was, when was my last period. I knew I ain’t give the right answers by the way he was frowning.

  The cramps I had the night before was back. They was harder and longer. The nurse told me to breathe, like I wasn’t breathing or something. She ask how bad the pain was. I told her it wasn’t that bad, and it wasn’t.

  Mama was there when I got to the hospital, looking real worried. I ain’t know if she was worried because she hit me that morning and she thought these people would find out about it, or if she was really worried about me. When they wheeled me past her, I looked in her face. It looked like she was really worried about me. It looked like she been crying.

  They took me in this cold room and I was all naked. There was nothing but this sheet over me. Some nurse come in and give me a shot. This doctor come and stood over me. He was from some other country. I don’t know where, but he had a funny accent. He say they was going to take the baby out of me, just to be safe. I tell him I could take the pain, but he say they want to be safe. You’re just a child, he say to me.

  That’s all I remember until after Imani was born. I don’t know what they give me, but the next thing I know, it was dark outside and I was in this room with some other women with babies. Mama was sitting in a chair next to my bed, her arms folded on her chest, and she was staring at a television hung up on the wall. Jeopardy! was on. Mama ain’t say nothing. She walked around the bed and took Imani out the little plastic crib they had her in. Mama handed her right to me.

  I ain’t know what to do. I just stared at her, feeling how light she was, looking to see who was in her face. It was only me I seen there, and when she poked one of her hands out the blanket, I seen them flat fingers like mine. I smiled.

  Imani wasn’t even her name then. Not official. It say Dawson, Girl on her ankle band. Eboni had give me that name. She got this baby book from a black card shop and it had that name in it. She was picking out names after she found out she was having a baby. She told me what Imani mean in some African language. Faith. I liked that.

  It seem like Mama want to say something to me, but she ain’t know what to say. She say I could get some ice chips, but I ain’t want them. She say she needed to go home. She was tired. I told her that was all right, she could go. I had Imani.

  Every time I go to Mrs. Poole class, I be learning more of what to do with Imani. I know that after the bottle, I got to burp her. Imani like that, I think. She like me patting her back. Her head be wobbling all around. I hold her head like Mrs. Poole say, but I think my baby just plain nosey. She be looking all around when I be burping her, even at two in the morning, like there’s something to see.

  Just last week when we was up, Imani was looking around when she heard these gunshots. Then she got real still. It was like she was holding her breath. I couldn’t feel no breath coming from her. All I could feel was her heart beating fast fast. Mrs. Poole done taught us how to do CPR, but all I could think to do was give her a good shake. I knew I ain’t need to when she turned and looked at me like she had a question. I felt a breath come out of her then. Hot and wet in my face. I heard the shots, too. We was on the couch, but I stopped right then patting her back and got down on the floor. I don’t even want to sound dramatic, like I dove down on the floor or something. They be shooting around here sometimes at night. But the shots sound like they did that night. Like they a few blocks over. They was still loud, so I slid off onto the floor. I ain’t want to scare Imani.

  Mrs. Poole would probably say I’m crazy. Ain’t no way a baby know what gunshots is. I ain’t saying Imani knew, but that kind of scared me. After she let out a good burp, I laid Imani out on the floor and finished up the routine. I changed her diaper, wiped her off with one of them moist towelettes, and greased and powdered her butt. She got real pretty skin. She ain’t had no diaper rash or nothing yet, and I’m going see to it she don’t.

  Imani act like she still ain’t want to go to sleep that night. She wasn’t fussing or nothing, but I guess she wasn’t ready to go on off to sleep. So I laid down on the floor and put her up on my chest.

  Mrs. Poole say that can calm a baby down. The baby hear your heart beating like when they was inside you. So I put he
r on my heart and sung her this song me and Eboni used to sing when we was girls. It’s a hand-clapping song, but Imani can’t do the clapping part yet, so I ain’t do the clapping part. I don’t know why I sung it, but it just come to my mind, and I sung it real soft. I sung it like a whisper.

  Say, Say, Say—

  I am a pretty little

  Black girl

  As pretty as pretty can

  Be-e

  And all the boys around my block are crazy over

  Me-e

  My boyfriend’s name is

  Sam-bo

  He comes from A-la-

  Bam-a

  With a pickle on his nose and a cherry on his toes

  That’s why my story goes.

  TWO

  All in Together, Girls

  I’M A NASTY GIRL now. That’s what Mama would say if she knew me and Peanut been doing it. I figure she helped make me a nasty girl, if that’s what I really am. She the one put me on birth control pills after she found out Eboni was pregnant.

  I ain’t want to be on no pills. I ain’t need them none, but what you going to tell Mama? When she say she already had done made a appointment for me at ECMC and my fast black ass was going to get on them goddamn pills before I got me another baby, wasn’t nothing I could say. She say Eboni probably give me the idea to get pregnant from in the first place, because she ain’t nothing but a stinking little ho. My back was to Mama when she was saying them things, because I was bathing Imani in the kitchen sink.

  Mrs. Poole say that’s the best place to bathe a baby so you can keep a good hold of it. Mrs. Poole say a baby can drown in less than a inch of water. It scared me when she say that. My mind left right from that classroom, and I could see Imani clear as day drowned in her little plastic yellow tub I been bathing her in. Mrs. Poole was standing over me, looking at my notebook. She could see I underlined that part about the drowning, that I was paying attention.

  I was holding on to Imani real tight when Mama was talking at me that day. She was holding me real tight right back. Like she know there was some danger in the water, but she know I ain’t never going to let nothing happen to her. I was glad I had my back to Mama, because no matter how hard I tried to fix my face right, it was telling the truth on me, and if I turned around I’d get a good smack for being so goddamn disrespectful. Mrs. Poole say you want respect from your child, give respect to your child.

  That idea ain’t go over real hot with the girls in our class. A lot of girls sucked they teeth and rolled they eyes at Mrs. Poole. This girl Bett-Bett, who always be sitting in the far back seat, say that was some bullshit. Now Mrs. Poole ain’t like the rest of the teachers. She don’t be writing you up for cussing or nothing, but she remind you cussing is for ignorant people with little minds. If you say sorry like you mean it, Mrs. Poole let it slide and let you say what you have to say like a lady would. Bett-Bett say she sorry and then she say to Mrs. Poole that things is the other way around. Children got to respect they elders. Bett-Bett say if her two kids want respect from her, they better show respect to her first.

  Mrs. Poole ain’t do nothing but ask a question. Don’t I respect you? Bett-Bett ain’t say nothing. We was all looking at Bett-Bett too, and some girls was saying yes. Mrs. Poole respect us. Mrs. Poole wave her hands for us to hush. She say she was asking Bett-Bett. You could tell Bett-Bett ain’t want to admit it, because there was some kind of lecture coming, but she sunk down in her seat and say yes. Mrs. Poole walk right back to Bett-Bett and put both her hands on her shoulders. I respected you from the day you walked into my class, Mrs. Poole say. I set the example. Let me tell you, ladies, Mrs. Poole say. You must respect your children. It’s they right to be respected. They birthright. You have to set the example and teach them what respect is by being respectful yourself.

  I’m sure Bett-Bett was melting under Mrs. Poole stank breath, but she ain’t show it. It seem like she was really listening to her. I think we all was, because sometime Mrs. Poole be making good sense, the kind of sense you know be right.

  And what she say about respect was burning me up the day Mama told me about going on them pills. I kept washing Imani longer than I needed to, waiting for my face to get right. I mean, Eboni ain’t no ho, no matter what Mama say. Mama don’t even know her, not really. And I ain’t even get no idea of having a baby from Eboni. Like Imani some idea. A baby ain’t no idea somebody put in your head. Maybe Eboni be putting ideas in my head about a new style to braid my hair in or what new sneakers everybody wearing. But can’t nobody put a baby in your head.

  Imani was looking up at me like she knew I was thinking something. She start kicking the water out the sink. She ain’t never been in the water so long. It was getting cold, so I rinsed her off and took her on upstairs. I ain’t have to face Mama. She was watching TV.

  I oiled up Imani real good until she was shining and put lots of powder on her butt. I swear that look funny. The oil with the powder over it. It look like when you flour and grease a cake pan. After I diapered and dressed her, we lay down on my bed and listened to the radio. I put on WBLK. My baby like that. She like rap. She shake her head to it. On time.

  I ain’t even come out the room until I had to give Imani her late feeding. We stayed the rest of the night on the couch and I ain’t felt like getting up and going to no doctor the next morning.

  While Imani was still sleeping, I took me a long shower. I scrubbed my private parts real good, because the doctor would probably be looking at them and poking them, and I ain’t want to be stank. I can’t stand no doctor looking in them places no way. It make me all embarrassed.

  I dropped Imani off at her daycare before me and Mama went to the doctor’s. I ain’t had nothing to eat, but the whole while me and Mama was sitting in the waiting room, I felt this clenching like in my guts. I thought I was going to have to poop. When we was called in to see the doctor and I had to put on that paper gown, I felt even worse. This one nurse had me pee in a little jar. She took some blood and then weighed me. I had gained almost ten pounds since my six-week checkup, but she say my pressure was fine. The nurse left me and Mama to wait on the doctor. I was sitting on the examining table. My stomach was bubbling like a pot. Mama heard it. She ask what’s wrong with me. I say I was nervous about the doctor looking at my private parts. She say I ain’t care nothing about some boy fucking me, so what I care about some doctor taking a look. I was going to cry right then, but the doctor walked in.

  For some reason, that made me calm. It was a black woman doctor and she pretty. Her hair was done real nice. She must have had one of them relaxers, where you can shake your hair like a white woman, and her hair was real long. Mama smiled at her real big. The doctor ask me why I wasn’t in school that morning. Because I’m here, I say. That’s obvious, she say in a real flat voice, not even looking up from my file. Your weight is up, she say. It’s not healthy to weigh so much. Don’t you exercise? I be tired, I say, which is the truth. You a young girl, she tell me. You shouldn’t be tired. You tired because you overweight. She say she run five miles every day. All the while she say these things, she didn’t even look at me. She didn’t even look at me when she ask, Why you have a baby so young? I swear I felt like jumping off that table and smacking her. Ain’t none of her business why I have a baby. Mama say, That’s what I want to know. The doctor looked at her and they started talking about me like I wasn’t even there.

  She don’t listen to me, Mama say. The doctor say she see it every day, babies having babies. It’s getting to be more than she can take. Mama say she try to tell me what’s right, but I be getting ideas from other girls. That your daughter? Mama ask, pointing at a picture on the doctor’s desk. The doctor smiled. Mama show me the picture. The girl looked around my age, and was dressed in a prom dress. She real pretty, Mama say. The doctor thanked her for saying that. That’s her debutante picture.

  She turn to me and say, That’s where your daughter comes out, gets presented to society. Talking to me like I was some natural-b
orn fool. I know what a debutante is, but I ask her, Where she come out from? The doctor just look at me real strange, and Mama glared at me.

  Then Mama say it’s so good to see a black girl who’s about something, doing something with they lives instead of having babies like that’s some great thing. Because it ain’t.

  I had my face fixed real plain while they carried on talking. Like they was talking about something like the best place to get your hair fixed or what place sell the best Buffalo wings. But I was burning up. My thighs was sticking to that paper they be having on them examining tables, and my feet tingling from hanging up in the air. I ain’t give a damn about that doctor or her stupid-ass daughter. I know Mrs. Poole would say I’m no lady for expressing myself that way, even if it was all inside my head. That my mind was real little. But I ain’t even care. That girl ain’t mean nothing to me. I ain’t know why Mama was making over her like she’s something special.

  She look like a regular black girl to me. Her skin dark like mine. She ain’t have no good hair or nothing. She’s not fat like me, but she’s not pretty like them black girls in Seventeen. If you seen her on the street, you would probably throw her all in together with other black girls. You would think she was probably a ho. Like mama think I am. You would think she was probably stupid. You would think she was nothing.

  The doctor say too many of our girls throwing they lives away, giving up on they futures.

  Mama say that ain’t going to happen to me. That’s why she brung me for the pills. Tasha a smart girl. Get all A’s.