of my hair. I’ll call her back later,” Coco yelled.
“Will do, Coco. Hurry, you hear?”
“Okay, thanks.” Coco hurried to turn on the shower and pumped the volume of the television higher.
“…Beautiful, I just want you to know that you’re my favorite girl...”
Pharrel’s chorus suddenly invaded the apartment. Coco’s bootie shook to the Snoop Dog laced track. She felt a tinge of happiness at the knowledge that Easter break was here and it would be another week before she’d see Deedee back at school. Coco figured by then any resentment felt toward Deedee should be gone. I’ll shower then go call my mother. See how she is holding up. I’ll be all right, Coco thought as the spray of the water hit her naked body.
THIRTEEN
Rachel Harvey examined her features in the mirror. She had been slowly stacking the pounds back onto her once emaciated body. She noticed her skirt fit better as she ran her hands over a now shapely behind. I’m packing on the pounds in the right places, she thought as she posed, turning from side to side.
No longer wafer-like, she contemplated the physical changes she had gone through. “I look good. I don’t need no make-up,” Rachel said then turned to leave her room, closing the door behind her. She walked the familiar path to the assembly room.
The walk to the assembly area was something that she had been doing for the past forty-five days. She walked along the corridor with the other members of her group knowing this was the last group meeting for her. Rachel wanted out of the residential rehab program. She had already mentioned it to her counselor who told her she would consider it.
Rachel Harvey felt cured. All of her urine samples were clean. Now she could return to her active welfare status and maybe even look for a job. The thirty-four year old single parent had walked this strip before and the dirt in between the tiles was familiar. Rachel felt ready to handle the outside world. For her daughter’s sake, she had to be prepared.
Last night, she had watched the late version of the evening news and had called leaving messages everywhere trying to find out if anyone had seen her daughter. Finally, Miss Katie had called back to say that she had seen Coco and everything was alright.
Relieved, Rachel had wiped the tears from her eyes. It seemed like everything was happening all at once. She walked into the group meeting already in progress and joined in the incantation.
“Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change and the courage to change what I can and the wisdom to know the difference. Your blessings we ask in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”
She muttered along with the rest of the group then took her seat and glanced around to see who was leading the group meeting. One person is chosen ahead of time to be in charge of the group discussion. The names appeared daily on the bulletin board. Residents would check the board twice daily. It was not a life or death situation, just done to ensure that residents were kept up to date of any changes. Most of the time because there were hardly ever changes, one could get by with just checking the bulletin board once.
Because of the problems Rachel had reaching Coco, she never got the chance to see the bulletin board. She knew that the topics are usually centered on relationships, whether family or personal. Sometimes, sex was discussed.
The leader is expected to bare her soul to the group while discussing freely any intimate part of her life based on the chosen theme for the day. There were times when the group leader was so off base that the entire group walked out the meeting. Politics and religion were topics rarely debated. Leaders, whose meetings went bad, always wound up crying. She looked around to see who today’s leader was gonna be. Rachel Harvey was surprised when without warning, her name was called. She sat stunned.
“Rachel, have you had a chance to read the bulletin board recently?” The question came from group counselor, Fatima Murray. These counselors can be such assholes, thought Rachel. She felt the uneasiness mount and knew immediately that it was her turn. What was the theme of the day, she wondered. “And, as you know, the theme is family relationships.”
“No, I didn’t look at it this morning. You know, my daughter? She’s been involved in some, ah, trouble and I was just trying to make sure she was straight and that just took all night. Maybe I can go another time or...” Rachel bobbed and weaved in an attempt to get out of the task.
“The theme, Rachel, is family relationships. You know how we talked the other day about certain things that are going on in your life? Well, I was thinking that maybe, without going into detail, you can give us your unique take on it.”
“In terms of my family?” Rachel asked feeling that uneasiness in her stomach. She was just not prepared. The conversation with Fatima had been a private discussion. She was unwilling to discuss the death of Coco’s father with anyone right now. Deep in thought, Rachel could hear the counselor’s voice.
“Just imagine you’re talking to me. You don’t have to share everything and the group will be able to participate in the discussion.”
“But I’m just not talking to you. I’m talking to every freaking soul in the room.”
“That’s the idea, girl,” a group member yelled out.
Rachel Harvey’s slow march to leadership took some time to begin. She eventually made it to the center of the room and stood in the leader’s position. For a minute, she was completely intimidated by the faces gawking back at her.
What am I gonna say? she pondered. They don’t really wanna hear me. Most times I sit in my seat wondering what we’re gonna have for supper. This is for the birds, she thought. She looked at her audience and they started to clap.
“Aw c’mon, you’ve got to be kidding me. It really isn’t that serious, people,” Rachel started saying. “What it is is what it is. I am Rachel Harvey and I’m a drug addict. I started using drugs, smoking weed at seventeen. By twenty two, I had two abortions and was pregnant for the third time with my daughter, Coco.” Rachel could feel the tears welling inside. She paused and tilted her head back.
She did not want to cry but it was happening anyway. Rachel, despite what she had become, held onto an inkling of pride and became defensive whenever she felt she had to explain herself. She could get off crack. All she had to do was stop smoking it.
Rachel wanted to let the group know that she didn’t need them or anyone else. She stared at their inquiring faces, their eyes prying into her privacy and digging away at her defenses. Testing, everyday they tested her patience. She heard their voices knocking at her conscience.
“Amen, sister. We all got troubles but there is no trouble too great for God to handle,” a group member encouraged the faltering speaker.
“Lord knows I’ve tried to be a good mother. I thought I’d found me the right man and we had a good plan. But, I found out years later, after becoming hooked to the monster, crack, that the devil is out there and he also has a plan. A plan to destroy me and my family through drugs. I don’t want drugs to destroy my daughter,” Rachel said and knew right away that she wouldn’t be able to stop the tears. She let them flow.
“Preach,” a group member shouted.
“Tell it, girl,” came another voice of support. Rachel gathered herself and continued.
“My daughter, Coco, means everything to me. Her father, God bless his soul, he passed away recently and my daughter, she doesn’t know. He sent me his guitar and that’s all he left.” Rachel paused to catch her breath. She choked from the tears and someone offered her water. She accepted and downed half the glass.
“Preach on, sis.”
“My daughter doesn’t know that her father is dead. You see, I just found out.”
“When are you gonna tell her?” a group member asked.
“I’m not