2/Danielle
I turned the burner down low on the stove, then went upstairs to my daughter’s room to tell her it was time for dinner.
After knocking on her bedroom door and not getting an answer, I stepped inside and found the room empty.
Hearing water running in the bathroom at the end of the hall, I realized Portia was taking a shower.
Seeing dirty towels scattered across the floor, I bent down and grabbed them.
No wonder I can’t find half my damn towels. They’re in here, buried in Portia’s room.
I reached for a large gold bath towel, and something dropped. Looking down, I spotted a small leather-bound book. I picked it up, flipped it over, and realized it was Portia’s journal.
I stared at it.
I try to respect my daughter’s privacy… most of the time.
But curiosity got the better of me. After several seconds, I convinced myself that I’m the mother and had a right to know what my teenage daughter was up to because most of the time, she was up to no good.
“I’ll look at just one entry, then I’ll put it down,” I murmured, flipping to the center of the book.
I saw Ron’s thing today. He wasn’t happy that I walked in on him, so I played it off and stepped out of the bathroom. I’ve never seen one with the skin still on it. But dang, it was big! I promise I’m going to touch it before the school year’s over.
Hell to the no.
Stunned, I flipped forward several more pages.
Tomorrow my mother is working evenings, and I plan to finally make my move on her boyfriend. The plan is to come running out of my room butt naked, pretending I saw a spider.
My fingers began to shake as I turned the page.
Ron rejected me. Even after I told him I loved him, he tossed it back in my face and said he loved my mom, not me, and I needed to find a boy my own age. I hate him! I hate him! Just wait… I’m going to get him back.
My hands trembled as I flipped to an entry dated the day after I broke up with Ron.
Well, my plan worked. Mama believed me over Ron and put his butt out. Hee-hee! You should have seen his face. That’s what he gets for treating me that way. Now Mama thinks I’m pregnant by Ron when I’m really carrying Demetrius’s baby. Yuck! I sure hope my baby comes out looking like me.
The journal slipped from my fingers and hit the floor.
For a long moment, I just stood there, stunned, praying what I’d read wasn’t true.
But it was.
My daughter had lied.
Everything went still as my world started spinning.
Slowly, I lowered myself onto the bed and took several deep breaths. What I wanted to do was run down the hall, yank Portia out of that shower, and demand answers. The only thing stopping me was the fact that she was pregnant and I refused to be responsible for something I couldn’t undo.
Ain’t this something?
I had believed her. Even when something in the back of my mind told me her story didn’t add up, I believed her anyway. She’s my daughter, and that’s what mothers are supposed to do—stand by their children.
How was I supposed to know that when she described my man’s dick, the reason she knew what it looked like was because she’d barged into the bathroom and seen it? Not because Ron had touched her.
It felt like a sick joke.
For the first time in my life, I understood how rage could push someone to the edge. The only things stopping me were the fact that I didn’t own a gun and that Portia was pregnant.
Dear God.
Ron isn’t even the father of her child.
She lied to me. He tried to tell me she was lying, and I refused to listen.
The pipes went quiet, meaning Portia had turned off the water.
I returned the journal to where I’d found it beneath the towel and quickly left her room before I did something reckless. Then I went into my bedroom and made two calls and said the same thing.
“Get over here,” I said. “Now.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was downstairs pacing around the kitchen table with a butcher knife in my hand, trying to steady myself.
Portia came bouncing down the stairs in shorts and a T-shirt, looking like any typical sixteen-year-old.
“Mmmm, Mama, that smells good! Is it time to eat yet?”
I glanced at her, fighting the urge to fling the pot of hot spaghetti sauce at her head and burn her with the truth she deserved.
Breathe, Danielle. Breathe.
“Why don’t you set the table?” I suggested between gritted teeth.
She nodded obediently and moved toward the cabinets. I watched her, wondering how someone who looked so innocent could be so manipulative.
A beautiful, full-figured teenager built like a woman since fifth grade. I had no idea until recently she knew how to use every last curve to get what she wanted.
“Set an extra plate. Your grandmother is coming over.”
And she better hurry.
“Mama, I’m so glad Ron doesn’t live here anymore. I really enjoy having you all to myself again.”
Ten… nine… eight…
I was seconds away from losing control when the doorbell rang.
Portia dashed to answer it. I took another deep breath, walked into the kitchen and pulled the garlic bread from the oven.
My mama walked in wearing a worried expression. I placed a finger to my lips to silence her questions. “Let’s eat.”
We sat down, Mama to my right, Portia directly across from me. I waited until we were all eating before breaking the silence.
“I decided to call the police.”
Portia’s eyes widened. “Huh?”
“For what?” Mama asked.
I kept my eyes locked on my daughter. “I’m filing charges against Ron.”
Mama nodded. “About time. I told you to do that the second you found out what was going on.”
Portia reached for her glass of Kool-Aid and took a sip.
“We probably won’t go to court until after the baby is born,” I continued calmly. “They’ll need DNA evidence. Once they confirm the baby is Ron’s, he could be looking at serious jail time.”
My eyes never left hers.
Portia squirmed. “Can’t we just leave it alone?”
“Why? I should have pressed charges right away. Instead, I tried to protect you.”
She lowered her head.
Mama pointed her fork at her granddaughter. “Listen to your mama. What that man did was against the law.”
“B-But I don’t want to face him in court,” Portia stuttered.
I shrugged. “You won’t have to. The lawyers can build a case without you if they need to. After dinner, we’re going to file charges.”
Portia dropped her fork and shook her head frantically. “Mama, they won’t believe me… I know they won’t.”
“Why is that?” I asked quickly.
“Because… Ron isn’t the only one I’ve slept with. There’s a chance this might be someone else’s baby.”
The confession hung in the air.
“Well,” I replied evenly, “that’s a chance we’ll have to take.”
“I don’t want to.” She crossed her arms and pouted.
I raised my voice slightly. “Since when do you get a choice? This is my house. And that was a grown man—my man—you accused. I’m gonna make damn sure the truth comes out.”
“Why does it always have to be about you? What about me?”
I inhaled slowly. “We’re pressing charges as soon as your daddy gets here.”
Her face dropped. “My daddy? I’m not doing it.”
“Why not?” Mama asked. “Don’t you want justice?”
A single tear slid down Portia’s cheek. “I’m scared of what he might do to me.”
“Since when? You weren’t scared before,” I said with a snort.
Portia pursed her lips and looked away.
“Be nice, Danny,” Mama whispered.
No matter what I said, Mama was going to side with Portia.
“Mama I think,” I said carefully, “the real reason she doesn’t want to press charges is because she’s lying, and she knows the truth will come out.”
“I’m not lying!” Portia insisted, though she still didn’t look up.
“Oh really?” I said calmly. “Hold that thought.”
I quickly moved up the stairs and came back a few moments later with the journal in my hand. As soon as I stepped inside the kitchen, I tossed the book onto the table. “Now try again. Tell your grandmother why you don’t want to press charges.”
Mama looked from Portia to me and back to Portia. “Baby, what’s she talking about?”
Portia looked increasingly nervous. “I-I don’t know.”
“She’s lying, Mama! It’s right there in that book. She has a crush on Ron and he wasn’t thinking about her hot ass so she lied to break us up.”
Mama couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Is that true?”
“No.” Portia looked over at me.
I could no longer hold back. I sprang from the chair, leaped across the table, and tried to grab my daughter by her neck, but Mama rose out of her seat in time to keep me back.
“You better be glad you’re pregnant, because otherwise I would beat your mothafuckin’ ass!” I screamed.
Portia jumped from her chair and was in the corner, shaking and crying like someone had died. Tears weren’t going to save her this time.
“You need to pack yo shit and go home with your grandmother. You’re not welcome back in this house. Matter of fact… as far as I’m concerned, you’re no longer my daughter.”
Mama gave me a light shove, then shook her head at my rude behavior. “Sweetheart. That is not the way to react to a situation like this. We can work this out, I know we can.”
“Mama, there’s nothing to work out!”
“Danny, don’t you take that tone with me.” Mama gave me the look that told me I wasn’t too big for her to still whup my ass. I pursed my lips and moved over near the sink.
Then she started in on me about how I shouldn’t have been messing with a younger man in the first place, how I needed to be a better mother. A migraine began forming behind my eyes.
All I wanted was for Mama to take Portia home so I could find Ron and fix my life.
I heard a knock at the door. Before either of them could move, I raced out and flung the door open to find my ex-husband, Alvin Patterson, standing there. He immediately moved into the house.
“What’s going on?” he asked, looking around frantically. “You called screaming and I couldn’t understand a word you were saying.”
“I’m putting your lying ass daughter outta my house.” I folded my arms across my chest and glared at Alvin waiting to see what he had to say.
“For what?”
My mother moved into the living room. “Hello, Alvin.”