“Stupid!”
Quin threw a tiny airplane at Bianca’s head. It soared across the room and crashed, right above his sister’s eye.
“Momma!” Bianca touched the cut and brought back a bloody massacre in the form of a smudge. “Momma, I’m bleeding!” Shaken, but not so much that she couldn’t toss the airplane back at Quin.
“Ow!” He touched his cheek. It seemed he was more upset not to discover blood than to realize he was unharmed. “I hate you! You’re not my sister!” He turned away and ran out of the living room towards his room. Ideally, Quin will always hate girls and Bianca will always hate boys but learn to love family.
Bianca finally noticed me in the doorway and started bawling her little crocodile tears out. These children, my children, are horrible. “Aw, baby.” I walked to her and knelt before her so I could kiss the wound. But, the real magic touch was the bright pink band-aid placed over the cut. “How’s that?”
With her eyes shimmering and bottom lip pushed out, Bianca looked at me through her lashes. “Quin did it.”
An actress in the making. “Then, let me go talk to him. You can keep playing.”
Sniff “’kay”
My goodness. Watch out Emma Stone; my baby’s coming for you. I found Quin not in his room, but in Bianca’s room. Her drawer was lying on the floor, the contents thrown clean across the room. The closet door was open. The little pink princess gown Bianca was in love with was being stomped on the floor.
“Quin Morgan!” At the sound of my voice, he tried to run past me into the hallway. The only thing faster than a tyke on the run is a mother’s arm snatching him off his feet. After plopping him onto the bed, I sat beside him. He gave up the chase, but not the rage.
“How’s your face?” Rather than answer, Quin curled his feet under him and traced the patterns on the quilt. I grabbed his chin with two fingers and looked into green eyes the same color as mine. “You know you’re going to have to clean this up. Right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The way he sunk off the bed to the floor was a dead giveaway that he didn’t want to clean the mess he made. He ‘accidently’ stepped on her princess gown again before bending to pick it up.
This isn’t the punishment Bianca wanted. She wanted fire and brimstone, twigs and whiplashes. At the very least, she wanted Quin’s nose shoved into a corner. Between the lax way I was dealing with the situation and the sight of her clothes strewn all over the floor, what turned out to be curiosity on whether I made Quin cry, ended up being Bianca running across the room to punch Quin in his face.
Justice served.
That is, it was served until Quin hit her back. I stepped in the middle of tiny feet and fists tossed about like chunks of rocks in a hail storm. “STOP!!!”
“He threw my clothes!”
“That’s right! They’re ugly!”
Even with me in the middle, they reached around to pummel each other, a more fitting punishment than my harmless reasonable intentions. Enough. I picked the biggest monster up, Bianca, and carted her out of the room. Hopefully, they grow out of this stage. In a few more months, these little demons will be too big to carry.
“Nah!” Quin licked his tongue out in a show of victory. My little man was unaware he had been losing the fight.
I pointed to the clothes tossed all over the room by Hurricane Brat. “Clean this mess up, Quin!”
He should know better than to ignore my command. I’m a different mother than I was two months ago. That woman had given up on life. She didn’t realize the blessings around her. Her children and her cheating husband had become a prison. The bars were slammed shut, holding her in a place she didn’t want to be.
There are opportunities to be had in this life. The chance for something better wasn’t always this easy to see. These children just need a little discipline and order. In this instance, Quin will establish order in the room he demolished, while Bianca gets the discipline.
“Stand in the corner.” She stomped her foot and pouted, five years old and already ruing the injustice in the world. She let her forehead rest on the wall with a dejected look on her face. Even when they’re bad, they’re still adorable. “Bianca, you have to let me handle Quin when he does something bad. Hitting is wrong, honey. Even when you’re grown up, hitting others only gets you in trouble.”
“You used to hit us.” The eyes that looked back at me was full of persecution.
“What I did was bad. Have I hit either of you recently?”
“No” Her voice shook with sadness. The anger was melting like snow that was making room for the warmth of the sun. First, a few tears were in order.
“I learned to hit is wrong. Therefore, I stopped. You should do the same.”
The sound of the doorbell pierced the solemn moment where my child grew a little more before my eyes. She understands. Maybe gratitude for the days that passed when she didn’t feel trapped under her mother’s wrath made her appreciate the use of words over hitting. Whatever the reason, I knew she had learned her lesson. But, a mother should never back off her punishment. “I’m going to answer the door. Head against the wall for five minutes.”
Only one person visits me in the middle of the day. Being a housewife has its dull moments. It’s not rocket science cleaning and cooking. But, raising children comes close. Reprise comes from people with different hours. I sleep when the children sleep, at night. My favorite companion is usually one that wakes at night, sleeps half the day, and then flies over here to give me a report on last night’s events. Better than every reality show currently out at the moment. Opening the door has become a breath of fresh air.
“Kyle” Half a greeting turns on the show.
“Sasha, I met the cutest guy last night.” I pointed to Bianca in the corner so he’d give me the PG version. Kyle leaned closer and softened his voice. This must be juicy.
“He just left my house.” Kyle opened his mouth in a silent scream. “Hey, Bianca honey!” he went on to add.
She turned her head with her lip hanging so low you would swear it was falling off. “Hey, Uncle Kyle.”
Perfectly manicured fingers rose to cover the laugh dying to spill out as I ushered him to the worn brown sofa that was still too comfortable to throw out. “My little actress in the making is a huge drama queen.”
Deep chocolate hands, with skin so soft I’ve gone through three different brands of lotion just to measure up to him, reached for my fingers. “Honey, you are doing good with those children. I swear, I thought they would break you. I was just waiting for the day I walk into a hospital holding you strapped to a bed. What changed?”
“Me. I changed. I just realized I was blessed to have this life.”
Kyle grabbed my shoulders and pressed a kiss to my cheek before sitting back. That’s how you can tell who your friends are. When you hurt; they hurt for you. When you rise above it all; they rejoice. “What about Mr. Can’t-Keep-his-Thing-Thing-in-the-Back-Wing?”
I quickly tamped down my laughter with a furtive look at Bianca. “Keep the conversation rated PG, not rated G.” Kyle shrugged with a smirk just as the object of his question walked through the door, my husband, Terrence. I dropped my voice to a stage whisper. “But, to answer your question, I decided to deal with it until I start earning money of my own.”
“Okay,” We exchanged a high-five like two cohorts planning the perfect scheme.
Terrence looked out the door in confusion and annoyance, mostly with annoyance. “Sasha, you recognize this woman?”
“Sasha?” A grungy wrinkled hand slammed the door to prevent my husband from closing it. Terrence had to hold her shoulder. The woman seemed to see no one else. I could see the determination to get to me in her eyes. If not for Terrence, she would be standing here now. One bony finger pointed towards me accusingly. “She’s not Sasha. I am. Kyle!” The old woman tried to push Past Terrence again. “It’s me!” She saw Kyle wrap a protective arm around my shoulder.
“You stole my life! You stole my family from me!” She abruptly stopped and stared when Bianca ran over into my arms. The look on her face was paramount to a victim being stabbed by a predator lurking in the shadows.
I stroked my daughter’s soft brown curls. “Go upstairs with Quin. Be my big girl and apologize to your brother.” Bianca walked away slowly, my pit bull ready to attack at the slightest provocation.
“She doesn’t recognize me….” One tear made a track through the dirt caked on her cheeks. Such discontentment with her lot in life.
“Listen,” Terrence began. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through—whatever that may be—but you should leave. No one here wants to call the police on you. But, I will.”
I touched Kyle’s hand. “I’m okay. It’s just a poor homeless woman. I noticed her a few months ago in front of Foster’s Fresh Produce.” I walked towards the door with the intention of diffusing the situation. Hauling the poor woman to jail solves nothing. “Maybe I can talk to her. She seems to recognize me.”
“Sasha, don’t underestimate her.” For a cheater, it’s surprising to hear Terrence still cares about my wellbeing.
“I’ll be fine. I’m just going to walk her to the road. See?” I opened the door to show them a group of teenagers playing basketball on the side of the road. Magdalene sat on the porch still trying to learn how to crochet her addiction away. Mr. Jenkins sat on the porch beside an empty rocking chair. He would always miss his wife. Maybe I’ll make him a pie later. “Perfectly safe.”
Mildly appeased, Terrence stepped aside so I could close the door.
The old woman stared at him until he was out of sight. “You stole my life.”
“You wanted to be free. I freed you from all of it. You think the same way every self-pitying soul in this world has. The grass is always greener on the other side.” You were prepared to find out. Now that you have, you’re still unhappy. I guess wishing for something you think you can’t have makes you braver, as if you’re safe from change if it remains a thought. People amuse me. They think their troubles are the worst until they literally step into someone else’s shoes.
She seemed to think I would lie. Or maybe she thought she was going insane until I admitted to taking over her life. Either way, the shock on her face quickly passed. The woman—the real Sasha—pointed to her tattered clothes. “This is not the other side!”
“No one ever knows what’s on the other side of the wall. It could be Heaven. It could be Hell. You all just assume anything is better than the life you have. I traded lives with you. Now, you have your freedom. I’m no longer living in the cold. It gets cold at night…doesn’t it?” Loneliness is worse than the harshest blizzard. Nothing penetrates that kind coldness. “I suggest you stop running. This is your life now. What are you going to do with it?”
“I’ll tell them. I’ll tell everyone.” She gripped her chest where her heart was breaking inside. A loud sob tore from her body. I didn’t have to say the words. We both knew no one would believe her. For a few moments, the only sounds heard were those coming from the basketball game on the front street. With her voice raspy from crying, she asked me, “Who are you?”
“I am Sasha Morgan, the only name I’ll identify with from here on. You…are Hasan Michaels. Get used to it. That will never change.” I turned back to my family, the one I refuse to ever give back. They’re more precious than she ever realized. That woman has to find a new path. Hers has been taken.
