25. Mommie Dearest
There are some wounds that never heal correctly. People tell you time fixes everything because it sounds kinder than the truth. They tell you healing is linear and that forgiveness sets you free. They tell you family is forever, but I’m sure those folks never had mothers like Sharon Davis.
Some people have never experienced the duality of receiving everything from their mom while watching their siblings starve for attention.
As much as I appreciated my mom’s doting and overprotectiveness toward me, I was always skeptical of the way YaYa received the complete opposite.
She was ridiculed, called names, and dismissed.
Jared was disregarded as if he were dead when he was just a letter, a phone call, and a drive away.
Some people never realized that the first bully they ever met shared their last name.
The morning after Jared woke up, I found myself sitting in Kenya’s kitchen staring into a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold.
Sleep had become a foreign concept. My mind was racing.
I was thinking about Sharon and her love child, who was wreaking havoc on our lives.
I was also thinking about Jared. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Jared falling.
I saw blood spreading across his tuxedo. I heard Camilla screaming his name.
Then I remembered he was awake. Our brother was alive, and the plan Kenya and I committed to worked.
We were able to find and eliminate most of our opponents while throwing off the underground hitmen that were paid to end Jared’s life.
Jared is alive and talking. As much as I wanted to relax, I couldn’t because this war wasn’t over.
Kenya sat across from me, wearing one of Zay’s hoodies with her hair piled on top of her head. She looked exhausted. The dark circles beneath her eyes told the story of a woman who hadn’t truly rested in weeks. Eventually, she sighed and leaned back in her chair.
“It’s time, Baby Bear.”
I knew exactly what she meant. I’d known before she even opened her mouth. My stomach tightened immediately.
“I know.”
We’d spent the last thirty-one days avoiding needing to speak with Sharon.
Kenya rubbed a hand across her face. “Zay kept asking when we would handle her.”
“X asked me three times yesterday what we planned to do with her, but I didn’t want to involve them.”
Kenya nodded immediately. This wasn’t Xavier’s fight or Zayden’s fight. Yes, Jared felt fiery rage towards Sharon, but I didn’t want her blood on his hands. Jared was clawing his way from darkness. His decision to run for mayor showed all of us that he desired a life far from crime and violence.
Sharon’s blood belonged to us, her daughters. The ones who spent decades carrying the damage she created. Kenya carried the weight of being maternalized at a young age. She was the victim of Sharon’s hurtful words stemming from years of self-help.
Sharon’s impact on me was vastly different from YaYa’s but still debilitating.
I was useful and loved until I dared to want something that wavered from her path for me.
As soon as I chose a love for myself, my mother left me to rot.
I couldn’t imagine not checking on Genny after experiencing heartbreak and witnessing a murder.
I couldn’t imagine forcing Genny away from the family to move into a school five hours away in the midst of life-changing trauma.
Sharon was a selfish bitch who didn’t deserve children.
Kenya cleared her throat and brought me back to the moment.
“Are you scared, Baby Bear?”
“I can’t lie. I’m terrified.”
The words hung between us. I saw sadness take over Kenya’s gaze, which felt raw. I wasn’t afraid of Sharon physically. I was afraid that when we faced her again, Sharon’s words would hurt YaYa.
I was afraid that I would become a little girl again. The one who became a people-pleaser and the one who thought that if she got good grades, behaved better, or prayed harder, she might earn her mom’s approval.
I understood Sharon. She was addicted to power and greed. I understood addiction as someone who lived through it. But the little girl inside me still wanted answers. She still wanted to know how she could hide an entire daughter from us, one we could have loved instead of hunted.
Kenya reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “You know she ain’t gonna apologize.”
I swallowed. “I know.”
“She ain’t gonna suddenly become the mother we deserved,” Kenya said.
I looked down at our joined hands.
Kenya squeezed my fingers, and then she stood. “Let’s go get our answers.”
The war room always felt colder than the rest of the building.
My brother-in-law, Zay, swore he didn’t turn down the heat, so maybe it was because of what happened there.
Maybe it was because every room carried memories, and this one carried secrets.
The deeper Kenya and I walked into the lower level, the quieter I became.
The steel door at the end of the hallway looked ordinary enough, but I knew what waited behind it.
For weeks, I had avoided coming down here.
I told myself I was busy.
I told myself there were more important things to focus on.
The truth was simpler. I didn’t want to see her.
I didn’t want to come face-to-face with everything she had done.
While I despised who Sharon was and what she sacrificed for personal gain, some part of me still loved her.
I wish I could force my heart to catch up with my mind and the vengeance that burned brightly in my soul.
Kenya punched in the security code, and the lock disengaged with a heavy metallic click. Neither of us moved immediately; we stared at one another and stilled our breath, making it even. I could tell Kenya was struggling with this, too. So for a while we just stood there.
Two grown women.
Two mothers.
Two sisters who had survived things neither of us should have survived, and somehow we were both scared to walk into a room with a woman we had once believed loved us fiercely.
“Ready?” Kenya asked quietly.
“No.”
A humorless smile crossed her face. “Me neither, but it’s time.”
Then Kenya opened the door. Sharon sat at the center of the room, exactly where she’d been the last time I saw her.
There were no bars or dramatic chains. No movie-style prison cell, just a secured room with reinforced doors, handcuffs, and enough surveillance to ensure she couldn’t leave.
X and Zay thought that was too dramatic for our mom.
The men we loved tried their best to make her comfortable, but the truth was that bitch didn’t deserve comfort; these accommodations were far too nice for her.
The first thing that struck me was how small she looked.
Growing up, she felt larger than life. The woman sitting in front of me looked older than I remembered.
Her hair was almost entirely gray. I guess spending over a month without her, getting ready with her middle-class housewife routine, took both a mental and physical toll on her.
The skin around her eyes sagged slightly, and it was clear that time had finally begun collecting debts.
She looked up at me and YaYa with venom in her eyes. Her cold disposition after everything she put us through immediately reminded me exactly who she was.
The bitterness was still there; the cruelty was all over her face; her body language was tense with resentment. Her eyes landed on me first and then stared a hole into Kenya.
A slow smirk spread across her face. “Well.” The word dripped with sarcasm. “Look who finally came to visit.”
I felt my jaw tighten instantly. Kenya remained silent, and our lack of instantaneous words made Sharon laugh bitterly.
“You know what’s funny?” She leaned back in her chair. “I knew neither one of y’all would stay away forever.”
We didn’t answer her. I prepared myself for her mental manipulation, but Sharon didn’t prepare herself for the armor we built around our minds and hearts to protect ourselves from her. The silence seemed to annoy her.
“You ain’t got nothing to say to your mama?”
My stomach turned. How dare she call herself a mama? The word felt offensive coming from her mouth.
Kenya crossed her arms. “You got jokes.”
Sharon shrugged. “What else we gon’ do?”
Sharon’s eyes settled again on me. “You still soft as fuck, Chanel Simone. You ain’t shit like me. You got that weak shit from your daddy.”
Her words felt like a dagger to my chest. After all I’ve been through, after all of the darkness I fought like hell to claw myself out of, after achieving all of the goals she set out for me, she still didn’t see me.
Because I cried more than other children and had a kinder disposition, she mistook my heart for weakness.
Her words hit exactly where she intended, and I hated that.
I hated that even now she knew where to aim.
“I see all that education didn’t toughen you up, none, Chanel,” Sharon taunted again.
Kenya immediately stepped forward. “Watch your mouth when it comes to my Baby Bear.”
Sharon laughed. ”You always did jump to save her.”
The room felt smaller, and every childhood memory suddenly crowded into the space.
I remembered every insult my mom ever spewed at my sister.
I recalled every eye roll and the days when she purposely ignored my siblings and me if we didn’t do what she asked.
No matter how minute. I thought of every harmful comparison she made between Kenya and me, intending to cause division and harm.
“It was always my pleasure to save my sister, Sharon.” Kenya’s voice dropped dangerously low. “But she doesn’t need saving anymore.”
Disgust flickered across Sharon’s face then. “That’s the problem. Neither one of y’all ungrateful hussies ever learned how the world works.”
I stared at her and tried my hardest to understand how a person could cause this much destruction and still believe they were right.
“How much money?” The question left my mouth before I could stop myself. “How much money was worth your family?”