Saturday, July 12, 2008

Fever In The Winter pg. 3

My mother was on her third marriage. Though she never married my father, she managed to marry the other three kids father's. We looked like the rainbow coalition. I was the oldest and the only child that actually looked like my mother, who was quite a beautiful woman. A man once told me that I looked just like my mother, and to be proud, Because no matter what age you I become, I would always be a beautiful woman, then he bought me some ice cream and asked for a kiss. I never understood why she let me go with that stranger. There were a lot of things my mother did that I did not understand, but understanding would come soon enough.

I had 2 brothers and one sister, and they all looked like their father's. It was Rahim, Kevin and Pearl. Rahim was dark skinned, and so handsome. I used to tell him he was one step from being a girl, he was so pretty. Kevin was the nerd, you could not pull him away from a book. He had that nerd walk, that small nerd head, and those little nerd glasses. It's something that makes you wonder in the nerd gene pool, there is one gene that makes this kind of person,.. It is in all races and they can be picked from anywhere. Everyone knows a nerd when they see one. And I loved them. My brother because of his avid reading and supreme intelligence, made me appreciate the kind. Reading was his passion. I believe that's how he coped with all the terror that was in our surroundings. The only time you would a get anything out of him, is when you were messin' with one of his books. You could take an eye from him, but as long as he had another to read with, he was alright. The world was a good place.

Then there was Pearl. She was the only child who was tri-racial. Her dad was Irish, Latin and black. I always thought it was nice to know what other races you may have in you, but when it comes to just having even a drop of black, at the end of the day, that is what society saw you as, black. She was a beauty, at three years old, she was something to be reckoned with. She had the biggest green eyes, they cold melt an iceberg. I was 13 when my mother brought her into this world, I loved her and she was my baby too.

We were a family, who went to church every Sunday, Wednesday and Saturday for choir rehearsal. I went to that church for 13 years and the choir director never could pronounce my name right. Manacia (Ma-na-sha) Michelle Jones. She called me everything but that. It annoyed me heavily to hear my name mispronounced for so many years. I really thought this woman was retarded, so after a few times correcting her, I gave up. She didn't want to pronounce it right. If you don't get if after three years, then you are definitely needed on the yellow bus.

Sunday's were filled with the usual stuff. Sunday school, service, dinner and back to church to get the rest of what God didn't give you during the last few services. It was always fascinating to watch Sis. Goodman jump all over the church like she was running hurdles. Every Sunday at about 1:15, Brother Carter would start speaking in tongues, then his wife would follow shortly after, the the kids. Jumping all in a circle as if to do some kind of tribal family chant. They were strange, but no one said nothing about it. They all must have thought it was an act of God.

After all the excitement, the beating of the tambourines, drums and organ. The church would become quiet and the tone would calm to a whisper. The preacher would get up and ask if anyone was ready to give themselves over to God. Everyone would sit there waiting to see who would go first, and for some reason it's always that brother who wears the three-piece tangerine colored suit, who probably just came from the club. He would get in line with his Jerri curl soaked collar. He looked as if he had just run straight from hell into the church line. Sweating profusely, like he knew if he did not come and get in line, God would surely strike him dead. But on every Sunday, God would forgive him for another week.

Going to church was tiring, but it was the only social life I had. It would also be the first place that I realized that I was a different kind of child. Life was blooming and I was changing. Church was like watching reality TV, live and you knew every character personally, it would also be where I find a love that was unforbidden.

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