If Only I Could Tell Read online

  Mom was not perfect but she was Mom. Seeing that Mom was always tired from working, Trisha could never talk to her about anything, because she did not want to add to her already stressful life. Trisha concluded that her mom was trying her best to provide for her and her siblings; so the least she could do was to make sure that the house was clean, the clothes were washed, and her siblings were all in one piece. Though secretly, she wished she had a mom to teach her some things that girls her age needed to know. She wanted a mom that would teach her how to braid her hair, a mom who would bake cakes and cookies with her. She wanted a mom who would come to events that were happening at school, or even sporting events. She wanted a mom who would explain the changes that would take place in her body as she got older. She wanted a mom who would allow her to go to events with her friends and even family members. She wanted a mom who would speak kindly to her and listen to her when she was having a bad day. She wanted a mom whom she could tell anything to without fear of consequences. She wanted a mom who would listen to all sides of the story before placing judgment. That is the kind of mom that Trisha had in her mind. However, Mom did not live in her mind. Mom was the polar opposite, and Trisha always felt the need to be guarded around her. She always chose her words carefully and tried her best not to upset her mom.

  Trisha was fourteen at the time and flat as a board from front to back compared to all the other girls her age, in her class, and in the neighborhood. Was there something wrong with her? she wondered. Most of the girls also had their monthly periods and she had not seen hers yet. What was up with that? Nevertheless, she could not ask her mother, because Mom had a suspicious way of thinking. She always assumed the worse in everything. If Trisha had asked Mom those questions, Mom would have assumed that she was trying to rush into womanhood, and that would mean a beating. Nope. Trisha concluded that she had better keep her questions to herself and hope that one day a bump would pop out on her chest.

  She was very tall for her age and her skin was as black as a freshly tarred road. At least that is what all the kids at school said. It was not meant to be a compliment. She could hear them even now, in her head chanting, “Black tar baby sitting in gravy.” Also, many of them accused her of smoking because her lips were as black as her skin. Was there something wrong with black skin? Should she ask Mom? No way. She’d better not, because Mom might think that she was ungrateful to God, and that would mean a beating. Nope, she’d better keep that question to herself and say what James Brown said, “I’m black and I’m proud.” She truly was. Her nickname in the neighborhood was “Yogi,” after one of her favorite cartoon characters, Yogi the Bear. Everybody called her that because she was dark and hairy like the bear, and full of tricks at times.

  Despite her crafty capabilities, Trisha found making friends quite difficult because Mom always said that she did not need friends apart from her brother and sister. The person who seemed to understand her unique personality was a boy named Eric. He was Trisha’s closest friend in elementary school. He, like Trisha, lived in a hostile environment, so one day his mother packed their things and left town, never to be heard from again.

  Trisha classed herself as an introvert. She was very shy around people for fear of saying the wrong thing and its getting back to Mom. That would definitely mean a beating. Somehow she had developed Mom’s gift of distrusting people even though she longed to be a friend to someone other than her siblings. Did Mom know that her brother and sister could not answer the questions that she had about her body?

  3

  Trisha did not want to appear to be eavesdropping when the more advanced girls in the class were talking about things that she could not relate to. Truth be told, school was the one place Trisha felt most vulnerable. School reminded her of a show she watched about prison life. In prison, the way to be protected was to either be the baddest kid on the block or be connected to a crew who would watch out for you. Trisha was an introvert. She wasn’t bad; neither did she have a crew to watch her back. She was all alone. She didn’t quite fit in anywhere. She made okay grades; therefore, she didn’t qualify for the geek squad. She liked music but she played no instruments, so that disqualified her from the band. She wasn’t cute or privileged and she had no coordination, so cheerleading was out. For obvious reasons, she couldn’t join the jocks. She was not on social media, so there were no “likes,” “tweets,” or ”follows,” no selfies to compare, no Snap Chat, no Candy Crush, Flow Free, or Fruit Ninja. She was all alone in a cruel, cruel world called school.

  To make matters worse, Mom could not afford to give her lunch money, so she had to bring lunch from home in a brown paper bag. Her heart was filled with despair every time the lunch bell rang because she was compelled to sit in class at lunchtime and eat her humble bologna and cheese sandwich, while all the other kids had food from the lunch vendors. The aroma of fried chicken and macaroni, curry and white rice filled the room as the other kids sat in their own little cliques to eat and talk about current events like the latest tennis shoes that were out or their newest pair of jeans, or who was dating who now; or who was having a party, a sleepover, or going on vacation. None of which were topics that Trisha had any input to share.

  Instead, she was the one who got gum rolled up in her hair, or teased for wearing last year’s school shoes. She was offered the leftovers once the privileged had eaten their fill, which she refused of course, and was ridiculed to no end because of her refusal. They would say things like, “You know you want it,” and she did, but she would never give them the satisfaction of seeing her eat their scraps. Could her status get any lower? She withdrew even more into herself. She started eating her lunch at break time because it was permissible to eat outside at break time. By lunchtime, however, she was hungry so she started to save her apple or orange to snack on at lunch.

  During the lunch hour, she went to the furthest end of the playing field to talk with her dad about her day. Trisha would sit and sob bitterly about her low estate. Why doesn’t anybody like me? she’d ask herself in her heart. I’m a nice person. Am I any less of a human being because my mom cannot afford the brands that everyone but me is wearing? Don’t they know that I have feelings? Trisha cried and cried until her head started to hurt and then she took a few deep breaths, reminded herself that shoes and clothes had nothing to do with learning, and that she could only have what her mom could afford, and that one day her life would be different. In the meantime, she needed to work hard to graduate so that she could get a job and take care of herself. Her pep talk made her feel better, so she got up, straightened her clothes, and headed toward her class. When her classmates asked her, “Why are your eyes so red?” she responded that she needed glasses. From that day forward, Trisha made up her mind not to let her classmates walk all over her. She determined within that since she could not beat them then she’d find someone who could.

  Angelina Martin was the school’s bully. She was the biggest, meanest girl on the compound. Everyone stayed clear of her, even the boys and some teachers. She was the real deal and the answer to Trisha’s problem. Since Trisha was not a bad girl, she figured that she needed a crew and who better to have backing her than the baddest kid on the campus. The only problem was figuring out how to get past Angelina’s crew. There was no way for Trisha to even get close enough to her without getting a beatdown, much less talk to her. She and Angelina did not have any classes together, because Angelina wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. In fact, Trisha and Angelina had absolutely nothing in common. Hopefully for Trisha, watching all those episodes of CHIPS would finally pay off.

  She decided to stalk Angelina, or as Officer Chip put it, placed a tail on the suspect. Trisha followed Angelina and her crew from a distance until she learned their routine. The crew committed aggravated assault in the morning on non-suspecting seventh graders. They would slap them around a little and confiscate portions of their lunch money. They threatened to do them serious bodily harm afte
r school if any of them snitched on them. At break time, they did a shakedown in the eighth-grade block because it was away from the prying eyes of administrators. Then they would make their way to the jelly donut and twist lines. Angelina liked the sugar-coated twist and the fruit punch drink.

  Aha, that was Trisha’s in. The way into the gangster’s crew was through their donuts. Trisha volunteered to help at the donut counter because she had gained a reputation as a very reliable and responsible student. Teachers trusted her. So, for weeks, Trisha served Angelina and her crew the biggest and best of the donuts and twists. She even made it a point to remember who liked what. Of course the crew took notice of that; however, Trisha never said a word to them. She just served them and made little eye contact with them because she had seen a show on TV that said making little eye contact was a sign of respect. At lunchtime, the crew hung out by the girls’ bathroom so Trisha would walk by, nod, and continue on her way. Her face was becoming familiar to them and they perceived her as non-threatening.

  Last period on Monday, Trisha had music in the B block where the crew liked to hang out, so she made it a point to carry a binder in her hand. Then, she intentionally dropped it when she got to the stairwell where the crew hung out. The noise got the crew’s attention and Trisha quickly picked up the binder, said, “Excuse me,” and walked on to class. Angelina was sitting in the seat where Trisha usually sat chatting up some girl, so she politely sat in the chair behind Angelina, and pretended not to listen to their conversation. It was clear that Angelina liked girls and the girl did not seemed bothered by that. Angelina was so involved in the conversation that she did not hear the sound of the teacher’s voice coming down the hallway. This was Trisha’s opportunity to speak to the baddest kid on the compound. She leaned forward and said in a non-threatening tone, “Mr. McAdams is coming.”

  Angelina jumped up, gave Trisha a nod, and signaled for her crew to leave. Trisha felt like the rat that got the cheese. She knew that if she did a favor for the boss, then the boss would owe her one. At least that’s how it worked on the TV show.

  Trisha continued serving donuts and juice to the crew and walking past their hangout spots until eventually Angelina stopped her and asked her name. Persons nearby saw that Angelina had stopped Trisha, but they did not know why. Naturally, the word spread that Angelina had a beef with Trisha, and it would not be long before Trisha got the beatdown of her life. The stage was set.

  One day, Trisha, purposely went into the girls’ bathroom while the crew was hanging out there, and of course, the mob gathered because no one wanted to miss the beatdown of the century. One brave soul followed Trisha into the bathroom.

  “HOOK.” She waited for Trisha to exit the bathroom stall then she confronted her. “LINE.”

  “I never liked you with your black self, I hope you get your a** kicked.” Trisha answered not a word but instead moved closer to the opening of the door as the bait continued.

  “Do you think you’re better than someone, with your poor self?”

  Trisha helplessly glanced at a crewmember near the doorway then back at the bait.

  “SINKER.” Before she could get another word out edgewise, the entire crew had her surrounded. Poor thing, she never saw it coming.

  The word quickly spread that if anyone so much as looked at Trisha the wrong way they would have to deal with the crew. Trisha’s status instantly grew from poor little thing to can I get you anything? Ahh, there was a silver lining behind the dark cloud called school after all.

  4

  Trisha learned in health class that not all females are created equal in terms of body composition. Some are more endowed than others, as it was obvious in her situation. Some mature faster than others and apparently, it had to do with hormones in the female’s body as well as environmental factors. Trisha figured that there had to be something wrong with her hormones. Maybe they were acting up because her environment was so chaotic. She figured that stress might be to blame for the delay. She pondered on that for a while, and she remembered that people in the neighborhood would talk about others from time to time saying, “Look at so and so, do you see how much weight she’s lost? “Boy stress is a serious thing.” On another occasion, she overheard two people talking about a certain lady in the neighborhood saying how this certain lady had lost a great deal of weight because she was in a casual relationship with someone who was suspected of having an STD. They said that she was stressed out because her test results were taking a long time.

  Trisha also learned that eating too much processed foods like fast foods and canned foods could cause young girls to see their period early, which also meant that they could go through a change in life called menopause early; that sounded very scary to a fourteen-year-old. She began to contemplate her eating habits. Mom cooked a hot meal every day, which included lots of tuna, sardines, and corned beef. They also ate a lot of fish because one of their family members was a fisherman and brought over part of the catch of the day. Kraft Dinner was also one of her favorite dishes. Mom made sure that they had a fruit with their lunch every day, so Trisha concluded that their eating habits were not really a contributing factor to the absence of her period. She thought to herself, Thank God that Mom is too poor to afford fast foods on a regular basis. Every once in a while was good enough for her.

  Trisha felt relieved to know that her body was normal and that it would mature in its own time. In truth, she was no longer in a rush to see her period, because the other girls did not seem to enjoy the experience when it came anyway. They were happy to know that they were almost women; however, they were miserable when the cramps came along with the cycle. Some of the girls cried, others were in a bad mood. Some complained of swelling and tenderness in their boobs, others complained about the pimples that popped out on their faces. Some did not want to eat, others threw up what they did eat. Some could not concentrate in class. They were just a mess. Shoot, Mom does not have to worry about me rushing to become a woman, Trisha thought, it looks painful. The experience was downright terrifying to Trisha. Period, you have my permission to stay away as long as you want, Trisha said in her mind. I’m in no rush to be sick and miserable every month. Now that I think of it, this period thing doesn’t seem to be a good thing. The more she thought about it the more anxious she felt. So to calm her fears she looked for the positives. Well, it would mean that my boobs would grow, and I’d look less like a boy. It would be great not to be called “tomboy” all the time. It would also mean that I was becoming a young woman. Although from what I have experienced so far, being a woman is a lot of work. It means that I would have to get a job and pay lots of bills, and not have enough of anything. Man, being a woman sure is tough. I would probably have to have a couple of kids and a husband. Trisha shook herself. Hold on, sister, she thought. Slow it on down, a husband and some kids? I think I’ll pass. Let’s focus on finishing high school first. Sometimes her overactive imagination got the best of her.

  One day though, she did see her period and her boobs did start to grow. It was as if it all happened overnight. Mom woke her up and told her to go to the bathroom (outhouse) to change her clothes. As the sleep left Trisha’s eyes, she noticed that there was blood on her PJs as well as the sheets where she lay. Trisha knew exactly what had happened and she was both scared and happy all at the same time. She quickly ran to the bathroom (outhouse) with a change of clothes and a pad. As she changed, she noticed that all-important bump protruding from her chest,. “Yes.” Trisha squealed. “I’m getting boobs.” Even her hips finally filled out her jeans. Was it because of the hormones or was it because she had the same pair of jeans for three years? Whatever the reason, who cares? She was finally starting to look like a girl. Would anybody notice? she wondered.

  Once Trisha was done tidying up herself, she went back into the house to remove the soiled sheets from the bed. Mom called Trisha into her room. Trisha thought, Oh, Mom is about to give me the “birds and the be
es” talk, which she had already heard at school. Or perhaps this is finally the time when Mom would tell her that she’s a big girl now and she would experience certain changes, and that it was nothing to worry about. Or maybe Mom would say that if she had any questions or concerns about her body, she could come to her and she would try her best to allay any fears or uncertainties Trisha might be feeling. Trisha was sure that now was the time for her and Mom to bond over this big girl moment. She was both nervous and excited to hear what Mom was about to say. Finally, she and Mom would connect like never before. Trisha sat on the bed and looked nervously at her mother, the thoughts in her mind moving around at one hundred miles per hour. What wisdom would Mom impart to me? she wondered.

  Mom took a moment as if she was gathering her thoughts, and then she looked Trisha square in the eyes and said in the coldest tone ever, “If you beg a man for something, he will beg you for sofmething in return.” Then she made an uncomfortable glance down at Trisha’s private area. Stunned, Trisha nodded and said, “Yes ma’am.” Mom lay back down, which indicated that the conversation was over. Still in a daze from the comment Mom made, Trisha left the room feeling totally deflated. Why would Mom ever think that she would ever, ever beg a man for something? She did not even know any men. What type of girl did Mom think she was? Determined not to let Mom ruin the moment, Trisha shrugged it off and went back to being excited about her change. She could not wait to tell her friend Eve who lived up the street.

  Mom did not know that Trisha and Eve were friends because Trisha did not tell Mom, for two reasons. Firstly, Mom frowned upon the idea of friends outside of the family; she herself did not keep company with the other women in the neighborhood, other than Trisha’s aunt and godmother who lived a few houses down. Mom was a very private person and not very trusting. She always seemed to gravitate towards the negative in people. Trisha never really understood why Mom was so distrusting. Maybe it was because she had a hard time growing up. All she knew was that Mom did not go to anybody’s home and nobody came to theirs. There was a phone in the house but it hardly ever rang except when Mom called to see if Trisha was at home when she was supposed to be there. Very rarely did Mom use the phone to make social calls. Trisha and the kids never used the phone except when they had to call Mom at work. They neither made calls, not even to family, nor did anyone call them.