CONCERT—and it’s going to be a banner that goes across that reads SOLD OUT. People are going to be singing along with me to my songs, and I’m going to be on the Grammys accepting my awards. One day that’s going to be me. I fell asleep on the sofa with my math book on my lap. My mother came in the house around 1 a.m. smelling like someone had poured a case of beer on her. I guess she was drinking like this to get over my dad, but it didn’t seem to be working. When I was about thirteen, my dad just didn’t come home, and by the third day my mom sat us all down and said me and your dad are getting a divorce and he is moving out. I could tell then that it wasn’t my mother’s decision, even though she said it was mutual. He moved in with his sister, Joanie, after he left us. He would come and get Bubbles and Bilal sometimes to take them out. Then he met Charlotte, some young bitch at his job with three kids. My mother said she was a fat, racoon-eye, old-lookin’, yellow young girl. From the day he moved in with her he disowned us. My Aunt Joanie started calling and telling my mom what he was doing for his new woman. She was trying to warn my mom, so my mom would never go back to him, but instead she made matters worse and my mom more depressed. So things ain’t never been the same. My mom doesn’t have any family in Philly. Her family is from Arkansas; she never talks about them. All she told us was that she left home at eighteen, met and married my dad, and never looked back. We try to tell my mom to date, because she still looks good. She is thin and has beautiful mocha brown skin, and she wears her thick chin-length hair in a wrap. But she only meets people who hang out at her spot, the Pearl Lounge, and all the men there are drunk bums.
“What you still doing up?” she asked as she took her coat off.
“I wasn’t. I had fell asleep doing my homework,” I said.
“The kids ate?”
“Yes.”
“Did they do their homework?”
“Yeah, and I had to beat up your daughter this evening,” I said as I sat up momentarily.
“What she do?”
“Running her mouth and not feeding your kids.”
“I told y’all about fighting. Where she at now?”
“Bruce picked her up.”
“I told her she couldn’t stay out with him on a school night. I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” she said as she started going up the steps.
Lana’s boyfriend, Bruce, was too old for her. He was twenty-six and in the army. My mom told him to leave her alone or she was going to make trouble for him at his job, but that hadn’t stopped him, because Lana was eighteen and legally could date whomever she wanted.
“Night, Mom.”
“You staying down here?” she asked.
“No. I’ll be up in a little bit. I’m going to finish my homework.” I tried a few more problems. I finally gave up. Math was dumb and I was tired.
It was morning by the time a loud knock startled me out of my sleep. I jumped up off the sofa and looked around to see where the noise was coming from. I finally realized it was the door. It probably was Lana; she always forgot her key. I shouldn’t let her in, I thought. Lucky her, it was time to get up anyway. I peeked out the curtains to make sure it was her and I saw a man with a blue collared shirt and navy blue work pants and hat. He had a work badge hanging around his neck with a big PGW on the front of it. “Yes, can I help you?” I said.
“Are your parents home?”
“Who wants them?” I asked.
“Tell them the Philadelphia Gas Works.”
“One moment,” I said as I flashed my index finger up and ran upstairs to get my mom. She was stretched out across the bed with her uniform still on from the night before.
“Mom! Mom! Mom, wake up. The gas company is at the door.” She shot up and ran downstairs. I followed her. She opened the door while I stood behind her.
“Can I help you?” she asked, trying to act calm.
“Yes, Miss, we’re about to dig up the street and shut services off at this address.”
“What’s going on? Why? I don’t understand,” she said.
“Miss, we are about to turn your gas off for nonpayment.”
“No, there has been a mistake. I paid my bill,” she said.
“No mistake, Miss. Here is a copy of the bill. I was going to give you a few minutes if you need to take a shower or do anything before we shut it off.”
“No, you can’t do this. I have children—it is the middle of the winter,” my mom yelled as she read the yellow paper the man had handed her. The man walked away toward a big white truck.
“Please don’t do this. I have children. Please! Who’s your supervisor? Let me call them,” she said as she tried to catch up with him. I saw my neighbor across the street, Ms. Arlene, standing in her door and looking at my mom. She was holding her robe together and had a scarf on her head. She came across the street and asked, “Joanne, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. These people just made a mistake,” my mom said, embarrassed.
Ms. Arlene worked at the state representative office. She was the lady everybody in the neighborhood went to if they had an issue.
“Just let me know if you need any help. I might can make some phone calls for you,” she said. Ms. Arlene walked over and talked to the man. She came back and said, “He gave me his supervisor’s number. Let’s call him and see what we can do.”
Ms. Arlene came in and coached my mom on what to say to the man’s supervisor.
I ran up the steps and awoke Bilal. “Get in the shower. Take a five-minute shower.”
I got Bubbles up and she got in just as Bilal jumped out. I could hear my mom on the phone downstairs arguing with the supervisor. Then I heard Ms. Arlene get on the telephone and try to reason with the supervisor. As soon as Bubbles came out, I jumped in. Right in the middle of my warm shower the water turned cold. I rinsed off and came out of the shower. I dried off and began getting dressed. I already figured I would probably have to give my car money to my mom. I put my clothes on and went downstairs. “So what they say?” I asked.
“They said I owe them three thousand dollars and I need to give them at least a third of it to get the service back on. I’m just not going to go to work today. I’ll get this mess straightened out. Don’t worry,” she said.
“Mom, I have four hundred dollars—it’s my car money—if you need it,” I reluctantly said.
“I probably won’t need it, but I’ll take it just in case. Okay, I’ll give it back to you.”
Lana walked in the house. “What are those men doing outside?” she asked.
“They turning the gas off,” my mother said.
“For what? Mom, you didn’t pay the bill?”
I gave her a glance like, “Shut up.”
“Mom, why don’t you just call Daddy?” Alanna suggested.
“I tried. His wife said he was at work. Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out. The gas will be back on by the time y’all come home from school. Just get ready for school and get out of here.”
Chapter 2
In the morning I washed up with ice-cold water. It was so chilly in my room that when I yawned, I saw my breath. Without gas we couldn’t cook or have heat. It had been like this for three days. My mother bought some space heaters with my four hundred dollars, but they weren’t doing anything against the thirty-degree cold weather outside. It didn’t seem right that they could turn our gas off, but my mom said by law they could turn off the heat before the first day of winter—December 21—and that was