10. Deja McCoy #2
Me, and everyone in here heard her. Sad thing is that this wasn’t the first time that I’ve heard her say this to me. She’s been telling me since I was a kid that she should have aborted me. She’s never said it to Nari though. Only me.
“You acting like you did me a fuckin favor by raising me. Bitch, it ain’t no badge of honor to be your child!” I snapped on her.
I had a whole talk with myself in the mirror this evening, saying that I wasn’t going to allow my mother to get under my skin. The plan was to ignore her today. The thing is, I think I would piss her off even more whenever I ignored her. You could tell that she hated whenever I did that.
“Watch it hoe. I’ll come over there and knock you in your fuckin mouth!” she spat.
“Tameka, stop it! What the fuck is wrong with you girl? That’s your daughter that you’re talking to!” my grandma fussed at her.
“My grown ass daughter. Don’t forget that part, ma. You hear the way that girl talk to me?” she asked, trying to play the victim.
“She said that shit to you because you always making slick ass comments about how you wish you would have gotten an abortion with her. Stop saying that shit to her! That shit not funny!” my auntie jumped in this time.
I was so angry that I couldn’t stick around for a second longer. I ended up handing my nephew to my aunt, who was begging me not to leave, but my mind was already made up.
“Deja, wait. Let me talk to you,” my grandma called after me, as I was already headed for the front door.
I heard her, but I continued to walk. I knew that I was getting ready to start crying, and when I did it, I wanted to do it while I was alone. She was steady calling after me, even after I made it out of the front door.
“Deja, wait girl! Ima break my damn hip trying to keep up with you. Wait! Let me talk to you, girl!” she fussed at me.
It wasn’t my grandma that I was mad at, so I stopped, turned around, and looked in her direction.
She wasn’t that far away from me, so within a couple of seconds, she was standing in front of me.
I put my hands in my front pockets and stared back at her.
I could feel my throat aching because I was standing here, fighting back tears.
My eyes were watery, and I knew that the second I blinked, a tear was going to fall.
It took a lot to make me cry. I’ve been called so many negative names by my mom over the years.
She’s said some of the most hurtful things to me as a kid, that would make most grown people cry.
I’ve learned how to detach, and I’ve become so numb since then, but eventually, a bitch was going to break when I’m constantly reminded that I was an accident child.
My mom goes out of her way to make sure that I knew if she didn’t find out so late into her pregnancy that she was pregnant with me, how I wouldn’t be here.
“I’m going to talk to Meka when I get back in the house about the foolishness that she just said to you.
I’m going to get on Troy too. I hate it when you do that though, Deja.
Whatever issues that you have with your mom, you take that out on the rest of the family.
I haven’t seen you in weeks. I had to damn near threaten you this morning over the phone to come—”
“Can you blame me? The second I walked in the kitchen, Uncle Troy immediately started shaming me. I knew that he didn’t approve of me dancing, but he didn’t have to crucify me like that in front of everybody.
Then, your daughter. I’ll never understand what the fuck I did that was so wrong.
I’ll never understand why that lady hates me the way that she does.
I was a child. Whatever issues that she had with my dad, she would take that shit out on me.
I’m 23 years old, and she’s still telling me how she should have aborted me.
That lady fucked me up, severely. If my own mama don’t love me, or give a fuck about me, I just know that no one else ever will!
” I got it all off my chest, saying things to my grandma that I would typically only say to myself.
The tears that I was holding in, they eventually fell. My grandma tried to reach her arms out, so that she could console me, but I stepped back. I didn’t want a pity party. I didn’t want her consoling me because she felt bad for me.
“Deja, you know we love you,” she said, trying to reach for me again, but I still wouldn’t let her.
“I truly don’t believe anybody loves me, grandma. Let me go. I need a moment to myself. When you go back in the house, check on Nari,” I said, stepping closer to her, so that I could kiss her on her cheek.
I saw the sadness in her eyes. I knew that she didn’t want me to leave, but I walked to my car and left anyways.
I immediately started the car up and drove off.
I had a terrible moment to myself as I was driving.
I cried angry tears. It felt like I was releasing years of hurt.
I didn’t get it together until almost ten minutes later.
The tears that I was crying led me into a direction that was opposite of where I lived.
I could have chosen to go so many different routes.
I could have gone to a bar and got a couple of drinks.
I could have gone to a hookah spot and divulged in that.
I could have even taken my ass home. I didn’t though.
I made my way over to Hitta’s house. It was Sunday, so I knew he was home.
Football Sunday, so I’m sure he was home, watching all the sports channels, looking at his tickets that he put in, with hopes of hitting big today.
I knew that he was the last person that I needed to be pulling up on, but I went there anyways.
I knew the route to his place like the back of my hand, so in about ten minutes, I made it to his apartment complex.
I keyed in the code at the gate, where I was granted access.
I went over to the guest parking lot, pulling into one of the parking spots.
I grabbed my purse, along with my phone, and keys.
Once I had the items, I stepped out and locked the doors behind me.
Hitta stayed in these luxury apartments. He’s been staying here for about six months now. It was a quiet area, and it was ducked off. He stayed on the 3rd floor. Instead of taking the stairs up, I took the elevator.
I stepped off the elevator in no time and rounded the corner to get to his unit.
Crazy how he had the code to my apartment, but I didn’t have a key to his place.
Mind you, I never gave him the code to my place.
His ass watched me key it in one time and just remembered the code.
I could have changed the code on him, but I never did it.
I waited out here for about ten seconds for him to come to the door.
He eventually opened it, and when he did, he had one of his phones in his hands, and there was a mug on his face.
I could hear the TV’s that he had playing throughout the house, and it was on football.
The mug on his face, mixed with the phone in his hands, let me know that whatever ticket he put in probably wasn’t hitting right now.
“What’s up bae? Why you ain’t tell me you were dropping by?” he asked me.
“Because you never tell me when you’re dropping by to my house either, nigga. Javaris, don’t start with me. I’m already not in the fuckin mood!” I spat, walking in the house, and removing my shoes. He slapped me on my ass as I was doing that.
“You never in the fuckin mood. Every time I see you, you carry on like your period always on. What’s wrong with you today?” he asked me.
“Nothing,” my answer was short, as I walked away and I went into his family room area.
Hitta had a nice set up in here. He had such a strong addiction to sports, mainly because that’s how he made his money by betting, so when you walked into his family room area, it reminded you of a sports bar.
Because he had an apartment, it obviously wasn’t the biggest space, but he made good use of what he had.
There were six flat screen tv’s mounted on the wall.
The tv’s were close together, so it looked as if it was one huge TV.
Every screen had something different playing.
There was basketball, baseball, and football.
Four of the screens had different football games on, while the other two screens were the basketball and baseball game.
That let me know that he had six tickets in.
There was a dark leather loveseat in here, and it reminded me of theater seats.
This was usually where I liked to sit whenever I came over.
I would extend the seat out, grab a throw blanket, turn on the custom seat massager that came with the chair, and just relax.
That’s exactly what I did the moment I walked in.
The throw blanket that I kept over here, I grabbed it, wrapped it around me, and sat down.
There was pizza and wings sitting on the small table in front of me.
Any other time, I would have grabbed something to eat, but I was still in my feelings about what just took place at my grandma’s house, so I chose not to eat.
“What the fuck Stafford got going on tonight? Bitch ass nigga, acting like he don’t know how to throw the fuckin ball. Messing up my entire ticket!” Hitta snapped, as he stood in front of the TV.
His shirt was off, and the basketball shorts he had on were hanging off his waist a little bit.
His dreads were covered by his black stocking cap that he would typically wear whenever he was in the house.
His hands were on his hips, and I could tell that he was pissed.
He could get so ugly whenever his tickets started losing, especially if there was a lot of money on the line.