Ghetto Girls Too. Anthony Whyte

just got to say the words. Honey, your father is dead. I don’t see what’s so difficult about it?”

      “Maybe you don’t see but I do, okay.”

      “I hear you, sis, but I would’ve told my daughter. If you say you love her as much as you’re standing there reciting. Love is not a word. Love is a feeling and it seems to me that you’re hiding behind that word. That’s all there is to that.”

      Maybe it was the braggadocious attitude but Rachel couldn’t take it. “Well I don’t give a fuck what your fat ass thinks and you best shut your mouth before I come over there and whip that fat ass, bitch. What?”

      “Whatever.”

      “Rachel, Rachel please stop now. Nobody is gonna whip anybody’s ass, alright? Please get that out of your mind right now. Ladies, ladies, quiet please.” The voice of the counselor could be heard bellowing above all others. The argument between Rachel Harvey and the other member had gotten out of hand. Another counselor, Ms. Johnson, was forced to intervene. She had waited hoping for a peaceful resolution but the exchange had been angry. Both parties were on the verge of coming to blows. Rachel Harvey was unrelenting.

      “That’s what y’all people do. Sit around and judge people. Who’s gonna judge y’all? Thinking y’all better than everyone?”

      “Rachel, you’ve got to stop that right now. Stop it, please,” Fatima begged the angry woman. Both women had to be held back by other group members. “Well, ladies, this concludes this evening’s meeting. I guess everyone with the exception of Rachel may return to the dormitory.” The counselor dismissed everyone from the meeting.

      Group members filed out and some commented, “That’s what we need round here, some fire. Shake things up.”

      “Keep your head, ma,” others said has they passed by Rachel. She stood alone her chest heaving with little beads of sweat on her forehead. She crossed her arms and cut her eyes. Her body shook and she shifted weight from side to side. It had not been an easy day for her.

      “What got into you?” Fatima asked pulling her down to sit in one of the armchairs.

      “Nothing, you know me. That bitch, she always wanna start with me. When I was on clean-up duties last week, the bitch gonna approach me like I’m a child. I’m a grown woman, you know what I’m saying? I will not let her speak to me as if I was her child, damn butch bitch.”

      “Alright, you don’t have to berate her. You were doing so well up there. I’d hope that we could continue because by you talking about all the frustrations with trying to raise your child, it seemed like you were getting some sort of strength. Tell me about it,” requested Mrs. Murray.

      “Well, I really was nervous at first but it was getting easier the more I spoke on my issues, me and my daughter, and about how we relate to each other is important. That was what I was getting to before miss big mouth put her two cents in it.” Rachel looked away then back. “See, that’s why I’ve got to leave this place,” Rachel cried. Tears were flowing down the side of her cheeks.

      “You shouldn’t leave this place until you’re ready to,” responded Fatima. There were other groups and residents going by and everyone seemed to take interest. They peeked and stared until the counselor suggested a change of venue.

      “Let’s go to my office and we can talk in private there.” Ms. Murray turned the lights off as both women walked out of the room.

       FOURTEEN

      Rachel Harvey had resented being on the inside since the beginning. She, however, had learned to accept her fate through the encouragement of friends and counselors she had met while staying at the Green Acres Rehab Institute. She knew exploding in the group meeting would bring her demerits but it was something that was inevitable. It was born from a desperation to leave this place. Rachel sat and stewed as her thoughts brooded over the last time she had met one on one with the counselor.

      “Have you told Coco anything about her father’s passing as yet?” Fatima Murray had asked.

      “Why? Does it matter?” Rachel had responded indifferently.

      “Yes, it does matter. She needs to know such things. It’s important.”

      “I haven’t really told her. I guess I’m sorta waiting for the right time.”

      “When is the right time, Rachel? It’s been over a week now and the guitar and the package he left for her are still here gathering dust in my office.”

      “If you want, I could take them out. I mean, I didn’t mean for them to be there this long. Matter of fact, let me just get them right now.”

      “Listen, Rachel, there is no reason for you to get upset.”

      “I’m not upset, Mrs. Murray, I’m just trying to solve the problem right now.”

      “The problem is not one of space. It is one of letting your daughter in on the secret you’re keeping from her.”

      “Huh? What secret might that be, Mrs. Murray?” Rachel asked in anger.

      “The one of not knowing that her father is dead and that he also left her a guitar along with a big brown envelope. These things might just be important to her,” Mrs. Murray said without any restraint. She had wanted to say this to Rachel Harvey before. The counselor knew it was not going to be easy and she was right. Ms Harvey tore into her.

      “Y’all people need to mind y’all fucking business, you hear.” Rachel Harvey was near tantrum level. “All you people up in here be illing the fuck out. Y’all need to go and get a life and stop meddling in mine. Yes, yes, yes, I used to smoke crack and abused drugs like y’all say but that’s in the past now. I’ve been clean for six weeks now and I’m not a troublemaker but ever since I got up in here, it’s been like a curse. Y’all refuse to let me live in peace. I’ve obeyed y’all rules. I mean, I don’t even smoke cigarettes but y’all still won’t let me be. Y’all got to tell me how to live my life, how to talk to my daughter, and what to say. I mean, y’all must be the damn man. I better start praying to the counselors...”

      Mrs. Murray couldn’t hold back. “Stop!” she shouted then closed the door to the many curious onlookers. Mrs. Murray started again slowly, “We’re not having a shouting war, Rachel. I simply wanted to remind you that the more you allow yourself to think that way, the less you’ll ever be able to move on and put a closure to that period of your life. You’re a good person and a good mother. Just maybe, maybe you should reconsider and tell your daughter about her father’s fate. You do that and you’ll also move on.”

      The conversation loomed heavily over Rachel Harvey’s head. She had wanted her daughter to know but she wanted to tell her at the right time. When is the right time to tell someone that their father is dead? pondered Ms. Harvey. Fatima had been a friend and counselor. Maybe she was right. Coco would visit tonight. Ms. Harvey vowed to tell her daughter of her father’s demise.

      “Do you want to redo the meeting, Rachel?” Fatima asked and Rachel thought for awhile before giving her answer.

      “Yes, I’ll do it again,” she said and the counselor smiled.

      As they left the office and began walking back to the meeting hall, doubt set in with each step that she took. Ms. Harvey stood at the top of a makeshift circle where twenty eager faces waited for her to get started.

      “Good evening, sisters, mothers and all in attendance tonight. I am Rachel Harvey and I’ve abused drugs and alcohol.”

      “God’s blessings and good evening all,” was the rhetorical reply.

      “I’m on the road to recovery, God willing. As you know, this is the time when everyone gets to discuss any topic and tell, you know, tell what is bothering them or what’s keeping them here and giving ‘em faith and so on...”

      “That’s right.