Selling My Soul Read online

  “Plus what, Moms?” I gently lifted her chin so she’d have to look me in the eye.

  “Well . . . Tiffany ain’t worked steady in about three months. Since I was the one that begged you to let her stay in your house instead of renting it to somebody reliable who would pay the rent on time, I . . .”

  My heart sank. “Oh, Jesus. Moms, tell me you haven’t been—”

  She nodded and looked down at the table again. “I’ve been covering your mortgage and bills and helping Tiffany out with other stuff.”

  I let out a deep breath. “When are you going to let her grow up? The longer you take care of her, the longer she’s gonna need to be taken care of.”

  “I know, Tree. But I couldn’t let your house go under. I shouldn’t have talked you into renting to her. Just shoulda let her be on her own. Or stay here.”

  We looked at each other and cracked up.

  “Yeah, right,” I said. “Like you and Tiffy could stay in the same house for more than a week without killing each other.”

  “I know, chile. I don’t know what we gon’ do now that you’re back. I know you’re gonna be ready to put her out soon.” A worried look filled her eyes.

  “Don’t worry, Moms. We’ll work something out.” I didn’t need her concerned about Tiffany being homeless right now. I’d find a way to deal with her just to give my mother some peace.

  I fingered through the bills one by one and groaned. “Moms, why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would have come home and taken care of you and the bills and everything.”

  “And what would have happened to all those kids in Africa?” She stacked the bills and pulled them away from me. “I’m not your responsibility. I’m the mother, you’re the daughter. It’s not your job to take care of me.”

  I pulled the bills back toward me. “If I took care of you for the rest of your life, which will be years and years, I could never repay all you’ve done for me. Everything I’ve ever done, anything I’ve ever accomplished, I owe it all to you. The best mother in the world.”

  She held up her hand. “Stop with all that, girl. I ain’t done nothing but raise y’all in the ghetto and make sure you didn’t starve.”

  “Whatever, Moms. You know you’re the greatest.” I rubbed my hand over her scarved, bald head, trying to make myself get used to it. “I wished you had called me. Or at least when I called you to let you know I was staying an extra three months, you should have let me know what was going on then. Why would you let me stay longer?”

  “I figured whatever was going on was important if you decided to stay.” Her eyes twinkled. She picked up my left hand and held it. “I was hoping you were staying longer because of that man you told me about. Thought sure you’d be coming home with a ring on your finger.”

  I pulled back my hand and swatted her. “Now I know you’re sick. You encouraging me to get married? What happened to ‘men ain’t no good’ and ‘you can’t trust them for nothing but to be untrustworthy?’ ‘Give them your heart and they’ll break it for sure.’ ‘If you let a man—”

  She held up a hand to stop me. “Was I that bad?”

  My eyes bugged out. “Yeah, Moms. Worse.”

  She chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, baby. I guess that’s why neither one of y’all can keep a good man. I done filled your heads with all that poison.” She let out a slow deep breath and intertwined her fingers with mine. “I guess staring death in the face makes you think. I’ve been thinking about my life and the mistakes I made. Thinking about you girls and what I want for you. I want you to be able to get married and have a family and live a good happy life. I don’t want you to end up lonely and bitter like me. You don’t want to die alone, Tree.” Her voice cracked and her eyes teared up again. “Ain’t nothing worse than dying alone.”

  I rubbed her back and wiped her tears away. “You’re not going to die anytime soon. And when you do die, years and years from now, you won’t be alone. You’ll be surrounded by all the people in your life that love you.”

  She grabbed my shoulders and made me look at her. “Promise that will include a son-in-law and some grandchildren. And from you—not Tiffany. I’m scared of what man she might bring home. And God knows she doesn’t need to bring any kids of her own into this world.”

  I laughed and rubbed her arm, hoping she wouldn’t force me to make that promise.

  There was a knock at the door. “Monica got back quick. I didn’t know there was a health food store close to here.”

  I opened the door and couldn’t believe what I saw. There were about six kids standing there.

  “Where Miss Michaels at?” one of the smaller boys said.

  “You gotta be kidding me.” I muttered under my breath. I stepped back and let the kids in. They flooded into the kitchen and gathered around my mom.

  Two of the girls walked over to the table and hugged her and kissed her sunken cheeks. The boys didn’t waste any time opening the refrigerator. “What you got to eat?”

  I stood in the kitchen doorway with my hands on my hips. “I can’t believe this. Moms, these kids don’t need to be hanging around here still.”

  Moms scowled at me. “Leave my babies alone. They keep me happy.”

  I didn’t fuss too much because I knew she was right. As I watched the kids swarming around her, eating Aunt Penny’s soul food and talking animatedly about their day and the goings on in the neighborhood, I saw my kids in my village in Mieze gathered around me eating beans and rice. I guessed I came by it honestly.

  I smiled and leaned against the counter watching them. “Make sure you guys wash these dishes when you’re done.” I pointed a threatening finger at each one of the kids. “Y’all better not be bringing Ms. Michaels no cigarettes. You hear me? If I catch any one of you bringing her a pack of cigarettes, you’ll have to deal with me. Understand?”

  Each one of them nodded at me with wide open eyes, probably terrified of the scary giant with the big afro.

  While Moms was distracted by one of the little boys showing her the latest dance, I picked the bills up off the table and took them into the living room and put them in my bag. Hopefully, she wouldn’t notice they were missing. I would go through them later and see how bad things were.

  I called Monica to say I was too exhausted to go back to Silver Spring and that I wanted to spend some more time with Moms. She was glad to be able to spend the night at her parents’ house, about twenty minutes away. I had thrown a couple of things in an overnight bag before leaving my house, knowing I would want to stay.

  After an hour or so, I chased the kids out of the house and told my mother it was time to go to bed.

  “You just get back and you bossing me around already?” Moms kissed my cheek and gave me the biggest smile to let me know how glad she was to have me home.

  As I sunk into my twin bed in my old bedroom, gratitude washed over me again. It wasn’t as comfortable as mine at home, but it wasn’t a hard hut floor or a luxurious rope bed. After tossing and turning for about half an hour, I realized that it was too comfortable. My body was used to sleeping on a hard surface.

  I also couldn’t believe how alone I felt. In Africa, I either slept in a small hut with several other missionaries or surrounded by clusters of African children who wanted to be close to Auntie Trina. And it was weird sleeping without my mosquito net. I felt exposed and almost . . . naked. The sounds of the cars and buses passing by and people talking and arguing on the street outside were strangely disturbing.

  After another half hour, I could hardly stand it. I took the comforter off the bed and tipped into my mother’s room. I laid on the floor next to her bed, right up under her.

  “Tree, baby, you okay?”

  “Yeah, Moms. Just weird sleeping in a bed by myself.”

  She reached down and rubbed my back and I almost cried. The exhaustion of the trip, Mom’s illness, and her financial problems weighed heavy on me. The culture shock of being home had hardly started.

  I took a deep
breath and imagined myself lying on the beach on one of my visits to the mission base in Pemba, looking up at the expansive, clear sky with low hanging clouds, serenaded by the swelling waves of the Indian Ocean. In a place where everything displayed God’s beauty and splendor.

  Right before I drifted off to sleep, I thought of the bills downstairs in my purse. I might have to take a job sooner than I’d planned. Whatever it took, I was gonna make sure Moms was well taken care of.

  Seven

  The next day, I woke up with the sun as I had for the past two years. When I lived in the remote village areas, we had no electricity, so we woke up with the sun and ended most activity at sunset. That meant most of our days went from 5:00 A.M. to 5:00 P.M. When I cracked my eyes open, it took me awhile to figure out I was back home. As soon as I did, I turned over on my pallet on the floor and forced myself to go back to sleep.

  I didn’t awaken again until hours later, when I heard the doorbell ring and Monica’s voice shortly thereafter. I got up and quickly got dressed, brushed my teeth, and went down the steps.

  “Well, she’s alive.” Moms hugged me and ran a thin hand over my afro. “Tree, I thought you was gon’ sleep all day.” I could tell she was trying to get used to my hair.

  I hugged Monica. “You sleep well?”

  She stared at my eyes. “I should be asking you that.”

  I shrugged. “It’s gonna take me awhile to catch up.”

  Moms said, “You didn’t bring no clothes? You can put on something of mine if you want to.”

  I looked down at the same jeans and T-shirt I’d put on yesterday after my shower. “No, these are fine.” I walked over to the stove and found leftover pancakes and eggs. I realized I hadn’t eaten much the night before and fixed a plate and sat down to eat.

  “Ain’t you gonna warm it up?” My mother frowned.

  I shook my head and tore off a piece of pancake, picked up some eggs with it, and gulped it down. Moms stared at me like I had no home training. “They ain’t got forks in Africa?”

  I shook my head and gulped down another bite of pancakes and eggs. Moms and Monica looked at each other, then looked at me. They finally sat down at the table with me.

  “Have y’all heard about this?” Moms looked past me at the small television on the kitchen counter. I winced when I saw what was on the screen. It was the twelve o’clock news, showing Deacon Barnes and Pastor Hines being carted off in handcuffs. Moms got up to turn up the volume.

  “According to their church leadership council, these men are accused of molesting boys in their congregations for over twenty years. Since this story has broken, eight more families have come forward with similar allegations. We can only expect many more . . .”

  Moms sucked her teeth. “And you want to know why I don’t go to church. They a bunch of hypocrites, that’s why. Young boys supposed to be in church learning about Jesus, but instead, they get raped. That’s why it’s so many gay men in the church now. Foolishness like that.”

  Monica went pale and bit her lip. I knew she was bracing herself because Moms was just getting started.

  Bishop Walker appeared on the screen next, holding up his hand, refusing to answer the questions of several reporters nearly chasing him into the church.

  My mother stood. “Ain’t that y’all’s old church?” She put her hands on her hips. “You mean to tell me the church you was trying to get me to go to was full of all that hell? I knew there was a reason I didn’t want to go. There’s more sin and hell in the church than us regular folk who ain’t got time to be bothered with a bunch of holy rollers telling us we going to hell. Who you think going to hell now? That’s why I know all I need to do is live right and love people. Not do nobody no harm. I’ll be living better than half the so-called Christians.”

  “Moms, please.” I picked up the last bit of egg on my plate with the last chunk of pancake. “Can we not talk about this right now?” The sick feeling in my stomach had me wanting to not eat that last bite of food, but there was no way I was going to waste it. Moms stopped fussing in time for us to hear the next bit of news.

  “The investigation began when a letter was received from a former member of Love and Faith Christian Center reporting that he had been molested by both individuals starting twenty years ago. Love and Faith’s church council refused to release the identity of the individual who wrote the letters alleging the sexual abuse. One has to wonder what made the individual finally come forward. We will continue to try to get further information as this story unfolds . . .”

  Monica let out a little gasp and laid her head on the table.

  I instantly arose and went to her, rubbing her back. “You okay?”

  She lifted her head and nodded, apparently trying to keep herself together for my mother’s sake. “I’m okay. Just ate something at my parents’ that didn’t agree with me. You know my stomach is only used to organic, healthy stuff.” I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. I walked over and turned off the television.

  “Hey, I was watching that,” Moms said.

  “Don’t you want to see what I brought you back from Africa?” I walked over to my bag and pulled out a capelana skirt I had brought her. “This is the first of many gifts. I left the rest at home.” I stood her up to tie it around her waist but couldn’t bear how thin she had gotten. The skirt wrapped around her twice. I sat her back down in the chair. “I have a better idea.”

  I removed her head scarf, maintaining my composure at the pitiful sight of her bald head. I smoothed my hands over it, fingering the last bit of peach fuzz that hadn’t fallen out yet. I tied the capelana skirt around her head and made an elaborate wrap. The vibrant colors in the skirt brightened her face. “Beautiful,” I said.

  She walked over to the microwave and studied her dim reflection. Her face lit up, and she walked down the hall into the bathroom. I followed her. She fingered the head wrap, turning from side to side and finally smiled at herself in the mirror. “Don’t I look like an African queen?”

  “Absolutely, Moms.” I squeezed her shoulders.

  She turned around to hug me. “Thanks, Tree. I’m so sorry about all this.”

  “Shhh. Everything’s gonna be fine.” I held her for a few minutes, hoping I could impart faith and strength to her.

  Later, after Monica went back to her parents’ and Moms lay down for a nap, I pulled her bills out of my purse and sat down at the kitchen table. The more bills I opened, the heavier I got. By the time I had tabulated all her expenses, I was even more upset at Moms and Tiffany for not telling me what was going on so I could have come home sooner. I calculated the cost of getting everything current, and then her monthly expenses for the next few months. It would take more than half of the money I had saved.

  I decided to count it a blessing that I still had money and that I could take care of her. I realized that now, instead of having six months to find a job, I only had two or three. Still plenty of time to find what I wanted. When I thought about the fact that I would now have to pay Moms’s bills and mine indefinitely, I shortened the time to a month. Which meant I needed to start looking right away.

  I would still leave my “invisible” chunk of money in my savings account. I kept about five thousand dollars stashed away in a high interest account and vowed never to touch it except for life and death situations. I forced away the thought that Moms’s situation was that critical.

  One thing was for certain. Tiffany was going to have to get a job and keep it. No way her grown behind was gonna be living in my house, eating my food, using my electricity and water, and not paying nothing. Doing whatever it was she did with her time while I worked all day. She was going to have to pull her own weight. I knew Tiffany thought she could float easy over the next few months because I would never put her butt out on the street with Moms sick. She was about to find out how different I was.

  Eight

  After spending another night on the floor next to Moms, I got up earlier the next day. I was restless with not
hing to do. I realized that in Mozambique, by nine in the morning, I would have gotten up and cooked for thirty children and walked the three mile trek with the other women of the village to get water. After two years, I had just begun to master the art of carrying the large water jug on my head, swaying my hips.

  I got up and got dressed, and then went downstairs.

  Moms turned around from the stove and stared at me. “Tree, you’ve had those same clothes on for the past two days. They may be a little short, but I still have some of my old clothes that will fit you. Why don’t you go up to my closet and find something?”

  I looked down at my jeans and T-shirt. “These are fine. They’re still clean.” I realized she would have more of a fit if she knew I hadn’t bathed since I had taken that first shower at my house. I had just washed in the sink. Daily showers and clothing changes hadn’t been a part of my life for the past two years.

  Monica came over, and I begged her to take me to a park somewhere so I could see some grass and trees. I tried to make Moms go with us so she could get some fresh air, but she said she didn’t want to be bothered by no bugs. I checked her purse and nightstand drawers for cigarettes before I left. As we were walking out the door, I took a deep breath and scrunched my nose, sniffing. “I better not smell no cigarette smoke when I get back. You hear me, Moms?”

  “Chile, you ain’t nobody’s mother, so don’t be trying to tell me what to do.”

  “Try me, Moms. I still know how to pick a switch off a tree.”

  She laughed and swatted my behind. “Get some fresh air for me. Y’all be careful.”

  When we got to the park, I took off my shoes and relished the feel of the earth beneath my feet.

  “How long are you staying?” I asked Monica. We started walking through the park, Monica walking on a concrete path, me walking next to her in the grass.