Ghetto Girls Too. Anthony Whyte

Ms Harvey apologized as she took a seat. Her body heaved uncontrollably as she cried.

      “You can’t run. You can’t hide. You must face the pain.” It was the collective voice of the support group. “Pray hard, my sister. There is no problem we can’t overcome,” the chorus continued. Their chant seemed to lend strength to her frail spirit. Ms. Harvey stood, cleared her throat and testified about her present fears.

      “I appreciate all the concern. I’m trying to hold my head above my problems and worries.”

      “God don’t give more than you can handle, my sister. Have courage.” The persistent effort of the support group gently guided Ms. Harvey past her emotional barrier.

      “My daughter’s father, well he passed away.” She choked on her emotions. Her throat became dry and it became difficult for her to speak. Ms. Harvey braved the tears as she dabbed at her eyes and continued, “Couple weeks ago, he up and died of a stroke. I only found out when his probation officer sent me all his belongings, a damn guitar and a brown envelope with a letter to my daughter. I haven’t told her any of this yet because of my fear. I’ve been scared to tell her. I don’t know how she is gonna take it, you know…I don’t how she will react. Although this man has not lived with me, he is my child’s father. He brought me life and introduced me to drugs.”

      “Amen,” came the chorus.

      “His passing, I think, will make me and my daughter a little stronger. We’ve already learned strength through his weaknesses.” Ms. Harvey found it easier to speak. She wept a little when she heard the applause as she reminisced over Reggie Melody. “In the beginning, Reggie said he would be there for us. But in the end, I see he was never really there to do for me or for my daughter. I mean, he left me and us for his own reasons. He lived his life. Now, I gotta keep living mine.”

      “Be strong. The strong will survive.” The support group cheered Ms. Harvey.

      “I mean, I asked God, why me? Why I had to fall for crack, cocaine, and alcohol? I still don’t know the answer,” Ms. Harvey said.

      The group did what was expected. They provided succor to another soul in distress. It was the kind of help that kept the alcohol and drugs off Ms. Harvey’s mind and was guiding her to the path of sobriety. A smile gathered around the corner of her mouth. Rachel Harvey was not completely free from the need but at this time, she was not in need. There were no tremors or fears. She walked away with a fresh perspective. Ms Harvey recognized that her existence was solely up to her.

      After the meeting was over, Ms. Harvey hurried to the office of her counselor and knocked. When the door opened, Rachel Harvey flung herself into the arms of Mrs. Murray who held her ground as the thin lady draped her arms around her rotund figure.

      “Thanks,” Ms. Harvey said. Fatima was taken aback by Ms. Harvey’s display but she knew that she had a hand in pushing the patient toward recovery. Fatima easily held Rachel’s shrunken frame against her and patted her back.

      “Things will get easier, my dear. You’ll see. Everything will be all downhill soon enough. You’ll see, Rachel.” The counselor saw Rachel Harvey reaching out and she took her hand. “You’ve got to be strong,” she said as the Rachel wept in her embrace. Fatima Murray was confident that the counseling was making a difference. This was the first time she had seen Rachel Harvey, a person who had denied that she belonged in drug therapy, break down crying. Recovery would not be too far behind now, thought the counselor hopefully.

       FIFTEEN

      “Are you all right, Coco? You don’t seem to be yourself today,” Ms. Katie said as looked at the bronze skinned teenager sitting across the kitchen table from her.

      Coco sat staring into the hot liquid thinking that the shower had done her well but it couldn’t rid her mind of the thoughts that had her in this mood. She didn’t feel like being around anyone but Miss Katie was not just anyone.

      Miss Katie was a mentor and someone who Coco could go to with any problem. Although tonight it felt like it was all ramble to her, Coco tried to listen as the old woman continued to speak.

      “Go ahead, Coco, sip your hot chocolate before it gets any colder.” Miss Katie watched Coco rubbing her hands against the cup. “Oh yeah, did hear that the police were up there on the sixth floor? They went to see about that Spanish couple.” Miss Katie continued her coverage of the latest gossip from the building.

      Miss Katie stayed home all day and always knew the latest gossip. She never missed a beat and most of the time there was something new to report. Miss Katie had a knack of somehow knowing everything that happened to everyone in the surrounding area. Apart from being a snoop, she was a sweet old lady and the person entrusted by her mother to keep an eye on Coco.

      On any given day, Coco would listen closely to what the old lady had to say. Her mother was forever saying, ‘Older people acquire knowledge, younger people acquire experience.’ Sometimes, it was out of duty that Coco listened to the old lady. Tonight, as far as Coco was concerned, Miss Katie was speaking pure gibberish. Nothing she said made sense to Coco. It wasn’t interesting until the old lady mentioned the TV news. Coco knew it would eventually come but Miss Katie was subtle.

      “Saw that, ah, music producer. What’s his name?” she asked. Coco couldn’t decide right away if she was feigning amnesia to get her involved in the conversation or the old lady had really forgotten.

      “You talking about Eric Ascot?”

      “Oh yeah, yeah, that’s the one,” Miss Katie said and without waiting for any further input, she continued. “Seems like someone tried to rob him and he shot the guy. Damn thug killed one of the girls.”

      “Kamilla Davis.”

      “Were you there when the ruckus was going on, Coco?” asked Miss Katie.

      “Miss Katie, you knew that’s where I went after I called you from the diner.”

      “That was yesterday, right?” Miss Katie asked but before Coco could give an answer, the old lady continued. “You gotta forgive me, girl. The memory goes when you get to be my age.”

      Coco looked at the old lady knowing she meant well. Coco wanted to say something that would make this awkward moment better. “Aw Miss Katie, you’re not that old. You’re still young.”

      “No, Coco, I’m an old lady. Come July, I’ll be seventy years old but you won’t see me taking those Botox shots or having no face lift or none o’ that plastic surgery thing. I don’t mind growing old gracefully.”

      “You’ve got quality genes. You’ll be forever young.”

      “Thank you, sweetheart. I like to think I’ll stay youthful if my heart stays young.”

      “Oh, let me find out that you dabbling in poetry, Miss Katie.”

      “No, my time is gone, Coco. I leave all that poetry and rhyming up to you.” She walked over and patted Coco’s shoulders. “You care for some of my sweet potatoes crushed in butter? I’ve got some corn on the cob and chicken smothered with bacon over there too.”

      “Hmm, hmm, that’s what smells so good? How could I say no? It sounds too delicious to pass up, Miss Katie,” Coco said as she reached up to hug the older lady. “Thanks for everything,” she said.

      “You’re more than welcome, sweetheart.”

      “You had said my mom called?”

      “Yeah, girl, you know your mom. She’s always worried about you. When she told me you had called and told her that she shouldn’t worry, you know that whole thing started her worrying even more. Oh my Lord, that lady called at least a dozen times.”

      “I hear you. I know how my mom can get,” Coco said as she sipped from her cup.

      “Coco, you know your mother is a worrier.”

      “Yep, she do be