I enjoyed getting up on Saturday mornings, having breakfast with Daddy, eating from his plate, and listening to his funny stories.
“Take it easy, chick,” he said. That was my pet name he called me. I felt special having Daddy call me by a pet name until I found out he called everybody chick. On the weekends he’d get up early, put on a pair of his khaki pants with a short-sleeve shirt to match, slip on a pair of tennis shoes, and slide on his favorite pair of shades. You’d have thought he was getting ready to go out and party so early in the morning. And he was—at the bookie joint. That was his second home.
I was heading out the front door, when I heard the phone in my bedroom ring. I trotted back to the room, eager to find out who was on the other end of the line.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Tracy. What’cha doing?” It was my big sis, Eva. I hadn’t heard from her in a while. With my new job, I was quite busy, and she hardly ever called me on my phone.
“I’m getting ready to go to work.” My eyes zoomed in at the time on my wristwatch. I had to get moving quickly, or I’d be late.
“How you like your new job?” she asked.
“It’s good,” I said, shifting my oversized purse to one side. “It’s a lot better than working at Golden Byrd, cleaning and seasoning chicken all day.”
We laughed simultaneously.
She wasted no time getting to the point. “Listen, Tracy, I need a big favor.”
My eyebrows furrowed as I became confused. I knew when a person asked for a favor that meant money was involved and the end of your relationship with them because you weren’t getting any of your money back. But what favor could I possibly do for someone who had nearly everything?
“Yeah, what is it?”
“I need to borrow five hundred dollars, and I need you to keep this between me and you.”
What the hell! Excuse my Swahili. My heart slumped to the bottom of my feet because all I had in the world was five hundred dollars and some change to my name.
I didn’t know what to say as I regurgitated my heart and nearly choked on it. You don’t ask your family for five hundred dollars, especially not your baby sister who’d just got the lowest-paying job in America and was struggling to keep them nickels in a jar. But this was my big sis, and she’d given me everything, so I thought I had to give her this money. How could I say no? She must’ve really needed it, I supposed.
“What you need five hundred dollars for?” I asked.
“I lost my job up at the market, and we got behind on a few of the bills, like the insurance. But no worries, baby sis, I got you.”
I thought about it for a second because I knew how Mama felt when she’d get behind in the bills when Daddy went on a gambling spree. “Don’t tell Mama I asked you for the money,” she said. Mama had just crossed past my bedroom door, then glanced over at me like she knew Eva was on the other end of the phone begging for money. “I don’t want her worrying. Keep this between me and you. I’ll pay you back in two weeks, as soon as Charles gets paid. Okay?”
So, like a little child, I agreed to the deal and felt much better after she confirmed she’d repay me. I trusted Eva would give me my money back no matter what.
“Okay,” I said.
“Now, I’m gon’ need it by the end of the day.”
“Today?” I said, shocked. I looked around to see if Mama was lurking nearby, then lowered my voice. “I have to go to work.” She didn’t care that I had to go to work. All she cared about was getting that money in her hands right away. She didn’t care that I had to go to the bank and wait in a long line to withdraw all my money from my savings account and close it. I had to keep at least three hundred dollars in my savings or they’d penalize me. I couldn’t tell Mama if I wanted to. She’d chew out my behind if she knew what I was about to do.
I hung up the phone after our conversation ended and headed to work.
Every step I took was like getting my leg trapped in a bear claw because all I could think about was how broke I was going to be. How I’d never get to drive that new car off the lot that I wanted and was anxiously saving for. I’d have no money left, and I couldn’t ask Mama for any. She’d want to know what I was doing with my hard-earned money. Then her mind would start wandering, worried that I was on drugs or about to spend the money on an abortion or giving it away to boys. You couldn’t get anything past Mama.
I’d had my monthly period and was trying to be extra neat so as not to soil the lining of my brand-new JCPenney’s panties, when Mama came busting through my bedroom door, interrogating me, asking if I was pregnant and having sex because she hadn’t noticed any stains in my panties in the weekly laundry. I had to convince her I was still a virgin, and I was not carrying a mini me in my belly.
Later that afternoon, I finished my shift, then walked across the street to Washington Mutual to withdraw my whole life savings.
My stomach knotted as I placed my savings booklet in the teller’s hand. “I’d like to withdraw five hundred dollars from my savings account,” I said.
The teller flipped through the booklet, then lifted her eyes to the computer, matching the balance on my booklet with the balance on the computer in front of her. Then, she cut her eyes at me. “All you have is five hundred dollars in your account. You must maintain at least three hundred in the account to avoid any penalties. Otherwise, you’ll have to close it.”
“Okay, close it,” I said, clamping my lips together as I tried to suppress the stomach acid that rushed into my mouth.
“Are you sure?’
I wasn’t sure. I wanted to tell her Hel,l naw, keep my money right where it is, but I couldn’t. I swallowed hard. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
The teller handed me the last of my hard-earned, brand-new-car savings. I slid the Benjamins inside the envelope the teller handed me and walked outside. Eva met me in the parking lot of the bank at three thirty that afternoon with her winning grin—because witches don’t smile, they grin. Walking toward her, I could hear my heart thumping as it pounded against my chest.
“Hey, baby sis.” I slipped her an envelope after receiving a lukewarm hug. “You’re a lifesaver,” she said, walking away. “I’ll pay you back like I said, just as soon as Charles gets paid in two weeks.” She jumped in her yellow Volkswagen and sped out of the parking lot.
The smoke didn’t have time to catch up with her; she sped off so fast. It would be the longest walk ever to home. I flung the tears from my eyes. She’ll pay me back; she’ll pay me back. Eva’s never gone back on a promise. Steam rolled out of my ears as my chest heaved up and down at the thought of not seeing my money in the account anymore. I had enjoyed seeing my little savings grow. I clutched my purse to my side, mashing out Mama and Daddy’s evening’s dinner of Big Macs, fish sandwiches, apple pies, and French fries inside.
Two weeks have passed. I waited and waited for my phone to ring, for Eva to tell me she had my five hundred dollars so I could reopen my savings account and continue saving for a decent car. And I waited for her to thank me for the small loan, but that phone call never came. So I called her to see if she was dead or alive, and if she was alive, where was my five hundred dollars? But the phone just rang and rang. To avoid Mama pestering me about my money being gone, I’d hit Daddy up every now and then, asking if he could shoot me a couple of dollars until I got my check cashed. Now, I was borrowing money when I didn’t have to.
After waiting another week, I called Eva again to ask what happened and when I was going to get my five hundred dollars back. She finally answered, all happy, as if nothing had ever transpired.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hey, Eva. What are you doing?” I asked.
“Oh, Sis, I ain’t doing much—just folding some clothes.”
“Well, I was calling you back to ask you if you have my five hundred dollars,” I said. “I need it before Mama asks to see my bank book.”
“You remember that gold chain I let you wear that you liked so much?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Well, that chain cost me five hundred dollars, so I guess we can call it even.”
You pop-eyed witch! Excuse my French. My insides burned with fury, and my eyes delivered a puddle of tears as I whisked them from my cheeks, swallowing the knot in my throat while listening to her pathetic excuse. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I wanted to jump through that phone and snatch her by her thin hair and beat the dog mess out of her. I called her every name in the book, off the phone that is. That chain wasn’t worth fifty dollars. She had given the chain to me; I didn’t borrow it. And, mysteriously, it went missing from my room. She probably was the one who stole it back.
“You gave me that chain, Eva,” I said.
She snorted. “Nothing’s free, Tracy.”
Silence barricaded itself between us as I choked back the tears. She added cheerfully, “Well, I have to go so I can finish folding these clothes and get dinner ready.”
I took a nosedive onto my bed and buried my face into my pillow as I sobbed and let out a barrel of tears. How could she do me like this? I was her little sister who was just starting off in this world, trying to make it. I couldn’t stand her rotten guts for that. It was the first time I truly experienced hurt and betrayal from her besides the butt-whipping she gave me when I soiled my undies at age three on my birthday, but it wouldn’t be the last.
I eventually had to tell Mama what happened, because she would look at my savings account booklet every so often in a surprised, unannounced visit, to make sure I was keeping my end of the bargain and saving my money for the car. She scolded me with love and warned me never to give Eva any money because she was on drugs.
I couldn’t imagine Eva being on drugs. She was always the one the family put on a pedestal because she’d made a good life for herself by joining the Army, getting married, and having the finer things in life. She always adorned herself with gold jewelry draped around her neck and diamond rings on her fingers, not the average-looking alcoholic junkie you’d find eating leftovers out of a trash can.
Mama called Eva that morning and cursed her out. That was unusual for Mama being she was so religious and loved Jesus, but you don’t mess with Mama’s baby. She shouted at her about how much money she and Charles made combined and how they didn’t have any kids, not even a chicken on the farm to feed, so why did she need to take money from her little sister, as grown as she was? And if she ever did it again, Harrison Ross Mortuary would put her next set of clothes on. That meant the next person to dress her would be the mortician at the funeral home. Lights out.
“Get her, Mama. Cuss her out,” I mumbled under my breath as I eavesdropped on their conversation. A wide smile streaked across my face.
It would be two years later before she showed up again, causing me more trouble.
