I took a deep breath, and looked ’round the room. My blankets and pillows were all on the floor. I stretched my arms up over my head, then leaned over and turned on the lamp on my nightstand. I picked up the telephone and retrieved my messages from my home phone. I inhaled, exhaled, then listened.
“Kat, this ya Aunt Rosa. Ya mother’s in the hospital. That nigga of hers done beat her up real bad. She’s at Kings County.”
“Kat, where the hell are you? This is Rosa again. I’m tryin’ to get in touch with you. You need to answer ya damn phones. This shit’s important. Call me the minute you get this.”
“Kat, this is Patrice. You need to call us immediately. Some shit went down with ya moms, and we ’bout to bring it to that nigga. He done fucked up, puttin’ his hands on her.”
“Kat, answer ya damn phones. Shit! I know you fuckin’ see my goddamn numbers comin’ up. This is ya Aunt Rosa. Call me the fuck back,
I deleted them, along with the six other messages I didn’t bother listenin’ to. I flopped back ’cross my bed and stared up at the ceilin’.
I closed my eyes and fought back tears, tryna understand why she kept gettin’ her ass caught up in bullshit with muhfuckas, wonderin’ when she was gonna get sick and tired of lettin’ niggas beat her ass and disrespect her. Watchin’ my moms jump from one man to the other over the years had made me realize that women like her have a lotta emotional issues. They gotta be sick. ’Cause ain’t no muthafuckin’ way in hell a healthy bitch gonna put up with half the shit these chicks put up with from a muhfucka.
“Not a muthafuckin’ thing,” I answered out loud. “I didn’t put her ass in that situation. So why the fuck do I have to feel some kinda way ’bout it?”
I took another deep breath, then picked up the phone and dialed 4-1-1 for the number to Kings County. “Hello, I’m callin’ ’bout Juanita Rivera,” I said when a woman answered the hospital switchboard. “She’s a patient there.”
“Okay, hold on…let me see.” She placed me on hold, then returned. “Let me connect you to her floor.” The hospital music came back on for a moment, then someone else picked up. “ICU, how can I help you?”
“Um, yes. I’m callin’ about Juanita Rivera. I was told she was in the hospital.”
“I’m sorry, information ’bout patients is strictly—”
“Ma’am,” I said, takin’ a deep breath before I cursed her ass out. “No disrespect to you, but I’m Ms. Rivera’s daughter and I wanna know how the fuck she’s doin’,
I heard her gasp. “Your name?”
“Katrina Rivera.”
“Ms. Rivera,” she said, soundin’ all professional and whatnot. “Your mother is in stable condition. She has two broken ribs, her mouth is wired from her jaw being broken, and she has a fractured eye socket.”
I bit down on my lip, clenched my fists. “Thank you.”
“She’s been asking for you.”
“That’s nice,” I said sarcastically. “You can tell her I send my regards.” I hung up, wipin’ tears from my face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The following mornin’, after Chanel’s ass finally left up outta here, I was sprawled out on my sofa lookin’ over the photo of my next mark. I glanced at his stats: 36, five foot eleven, 211 pounds, brown hair, brown eyes. Humph. He was a smooth, dark chocolate with thick eyebrows and dreamy bedroom eyes. He had a short, fade-type haircut with a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. He kinda reminded me of a darker version of that fine-ass model Keston Karter. Humph. And that’s who I was gonna pretend I was fuckin’ until it was time to splatter the nigga’s skull; then he’d become another missin’ link in someone’s life.
The ringin’ house phone distrupted my thoughts. I picked up on the third ring without payin’ attention to the number that flashed ’cross the caller ID. “Hello?”
“Kat, this is ya Aunt Elise.”
I scrunched up my face, wonderin’ why the hell she was callin’, although I really knew why. Elise never, ever picked up a phone to get at me, so I knew the only reason she’d be callin’ now was ’cause it had somethin’ to do with my moms. “Hey, Aunt Elise,” I said, forcin’ myself to sound happy to hear from her. “How you been?”
“Good,” she said. “But this ain’t a social call. I’m callin’ ’cause ya moms up in that hospital and e’rybody else been up there to see her but you. Now, I know the two of you don’t always see eye-to-eye, but that’s ya mother, Kat. No matter what she’s said or done to you, that is still ya mother. And right now you gotta be big enough to put aside your feelings and be by her side. That’s what families do.”
I kept my mouth shut and listened. On the inside I was so ready to shut her ass down. I wasn’t beat to hear her shit. However, outta my three aunts, she was the one who always treated me like a daughter so I gave her respect on the strength of that. But, I already knew if she came at me sideways, I’d bring it to her, too.
“My sister is laid up in a hospital bed, and she needs her family by her side. That includes you, her daughter. And I expect you to make it your business to get your ass there. Do you hear me, Kat?”
“Yeah, I hear you,” I said, pacin’ the kitchen floor.
“Good. So, what time should I tell your mother you’re coming?”
I sighed, closin’ my eyes. “You can tell her…” I paused, takin’ a deep breath. “You can tell her, I’m
“What?” she asked, actin’ like she didn’t hear me. “What did you say?”
I repeated myself, pullin’ a chair out from the kitchen table and sittin’ down. “I said, I’m not goin’.”
“And why not?”
“Because…” Humph. I wished I had a damn recorder to push play e’erytime I had to make my “fucked-up mother” speech. I sighed. “Look, Aunt Elise, no disrespect to you. That’s ya sister, not mine. That woman, mother or not, has put one man too many before me, and I’m done tryna be a daughter to someone who has never wanted to be a mother. So you can tell her I send my regards. But that’s all she’ll ever get from me. I got my own life, and I don’t ask her for shit. Whatever decisions I make, I make them knowin’ that if the shit gets me caught up, I gotta get myself outta it without her. And she needs to do the same ’cause I’m over her.”
“I don’t believe I’m hearin’ this shit come outta ya fuckin’ mouth.” I almost wanted to laugh. I knew it was only a matter of time before she dropped all that proper grammar ’n shit. “Rosa and Patrice told me you were gonna say this bullshit. I’ve never got at ya ass, Kat, but I will if you don’t make it ya business to get ya ass down to that hospital to see about ya mother.”
“Aunt Elise, listen, sweetie. I would love to go back ’n forth with you ’bout this. But my mind’s made up, and there’s nothin’ you or anyone else can say or do to change it. So, all ya threats mean nothin’ to me—”
“Now, wait one goddamn minute, Kat—”
“No,” I snapped, cuttin’ her off, “you wait. I’m not gonna argue with you ’bout this shit. I said I’m not goin’ and that’s what it is. I love you, Aunt Elise, but do me a fuckin’ favor and stay outta my relationship with my moms.”
“Kat, who the fuck you think you talkin’ to, hunh? You must don’t know who the hell I am.”
“No, I know exactly who I’m talkin’ to and who you are. Like I said, I’m not tryna disrespect you, but you callin’ my house tryna get at me. And I’m not the one,; aunt or no aunt, it makes me no never mind. I know that’s ya sister ’n all, but she brought this shit on herself. And you know it. So she gets what she gets. Like I told Aunt
