Brielle blinked back tears of relief. At last, somebody who understood just how angry she was feeling at Damon’s betrayal.
Brielle got up from her chair and leaned down to hug Jada.
“Thanks,” she said. “I love you, Jay.”
“Love you, too,” said Jada, returning the hug. She still looked like she wanted to get up from the floor and go and kill Damon. She took a big breath and let it out in a huge sigh to calm down.
Besides,” said Brielle, with a shrug. “He doesn’t have time for me. Even if I still wanted to be with him, I’d always come third after Sasha and the baby. My mom said trying to get a man’s attention while he’s focused on something else is like trying to stop a moving train with your body,- all you end up with is pieces of yourself splattered all over.”
“What a gross thought,” said Kyzie.
“I think she meant emotional pieces,” said Brielle, rolling her eyes at her sister in exasperation. Kyzie was very literal in her thought processes.
“Still,” said Kyzie.
“That’s deep,” said Sammie. “Sounds like something Madre would say.”
The conversation turned general as the girls completed their projects.
March
Damon
The letter came to the house on a day when Damon was feeling exhausted and inadequate. Ricky had been awake all last night, again. He’d have to give the baby to Sasha when she came for him, but right now Ricky was sleeping, thank God. Damon was wracking his brain trying to find a way to shut Sasha down when she asked him if they could go out sometime. Dating was over for him, even if he’d wanted to go anyplace with Sasha, which he didn’t. He knew that she was going to throw a tantrum if she didn’t get her way, and probably not bring Ricky by for a few days to punish Damon. She couldn’t last any longer than that. Ricky exhausted her and cramped her style. Ricky was also a bone of contention between Sasha and her mother, because he was colicky and kept the family up nights. Damon was sitting at the kitchen table, weary and glassy eyed, not talking to his mother, when Jada brought the mail in.
Jada handed the mail to her mother and flung a letter at Damon. It landed on the table in front of him.
“You got mail, knucklehead,” she said.
“Thanks,” he said, for once not rising to her provocation. He felt a million years old these days, instead of seventeen and a half. He couldn’t really call anyone and talk about his problems. Stump was on the black college tour and Ephraim was still in counseling after his New Year’s Eve melt down. Damon didn’t want to burden the still fragile boy with the woes of fatherhood. Ephraim’s mother had finally looked up his father, too, and Ephraim was going to meet with him sometime in the near future, once the counselor said that Ephraim was stable enough.
Damon turned the manila envelope over and over in his hands, not bothering to read the front of the envelope. He didn’t get much mail. What he did get amounted to college or military recruitment letters. One he couldn’t afford and the other he wanted to give a wide berth. He figured that this was more of the same.
“What is that?” asked his mother.
Damon shrugged.
“Open it, boy,” she said.
Damon ripped the end off of the letter and read the letter out loud. No sense having to repeat himself.
“Dear Mr. Hamilton, It is with great pleasure that we inform you that you have been selected-,” his voice faded away and he read the rest of the letter in silence.
“Selected for what?” asked his mother. He stayed silent and looked at her, speechless. She snatched the letter out of his hand and read it quickly. Then she screamed, jumped up and came around the table to hug Damon’s shoulders.
“What?” asked Jada, eyes wide.
“He won!” screamed his mother, tears streaming down her face.
“Won what?” asked Jada.
“The Millennium Gates scholarship,” said Mrs. Hamilton. She whooped and danced around the room.” Now he can go anyplace he wants to and finish any degree he wants to.”
Damon smiled, but felt too tired to jump up and down like his mother.
“Oh, congratulations, knucklehead,” said Jada, looking genuinely pleased. Then she sobered. “Now you can get away from all the drama.”
From down the hall came a thin wail. Ricky was up. Damon’s grin faded.
“MSU,” he said, giving the letter one last look. “Here I come.”
You don’t have to attend MSU,” said his father later, after he’d hugged and congratulated Damon. He told Damon over and over how proud he was of him.
“Yeah, dad,’ said Damon. “I do. I have Ricky to think about. I can’t just up and leave him.”
His father nodded.
“That is a very mature decision,” said Mr. Hamilton. “And if it’s about school, MSU is an excellent school. With this scholarship, you can live in the dorm, get the full college experience and still be there for Ricky.”
Damon brightened at that thought.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Don’t think I’m going to be running around on campus, trying to find you,” said his dad with a smile. Damon smiled slightly. “You’ll be independent, like you wanted to be.”
“Yeah,” said Damon. “But I really did want to go to Howard.”
Jada gave him a look of disdain and loathing.
“Damon doesn’t want to be happy, daddy,” she said. “He likes wallowing in his little pity party like somebody did something to him. Here he is going to have everything anybody would ever dream of; a big ten school is accepting him, his education is paid for, and he’s got this cute little baby, that somebody else is taking care of. He’s not giving up anything, and he’s still whining like a little punk.”
“Jada!” exclaimed her father, in stunned surprise. “What has gotten in to you?”
“Apologize at once, girl,” said her mother, with narrowed eyes. ‘We don’t
