Sweet Dreams by Nikkea Smithers

Dream

          "Little girl, you will never amount to anything. Not a single solitary thing. Your life is worthless you hear me! I don¢t even know why you keep waking up in the morning. Now understand this, when I say jump, you say how high, not why. You don¢t question me. I am your mother. Not your friend, not your sister, your mother. And what I say is law. Remember that if you don¢t remember anything else in life. Remember that Dream!" My mother spewed her darts of hatred in my direction. I had learned to block her hurtful words out when I knew that she was drunk. Her breath smelled immensely drowned in the precise scent of Hennessey.

Brown liquor, I never understood why she had this thing for brown liquor but from what I heard it could have been worse. It could have been light liquor that could have been her downfall. But light liquor wasn¢t her flavor, brown liquor was. I had heard that vodka was one of the worst of all liquors and should never divulged in heavy doses. To me the same could have been said about brown liquor, or even more so Hennessey.

When my mother went into her temper tantrums I was her instant target. She was bitter at the world but the world wasn¢t at home alone with us. We lived on the fourth floor of a ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Bridgeport high rise apartment building nick named the Greens. The hallways had the same pissy stench that reverberated in most project hallways. The floors were cold and hard like a prison cell and there was little space to get away from the constant rants of my mothers screams.

Every day that I had come to our apartment I was constantly reminded that I was never going to have a home. Not as long as I lived with my mother in the Greens. I had an address for the time being, but not a place where I could call home. The legendary song by the late Luther Vandross was never more true to me when it came to the place where I resided with my mother. An apartment was not a home with no one standing there to welcome me.

Sadly things had been this way for years. My mother had never accepted the fact that my father felt that she wasn¢t woman enough to command his attention at all times. He left when I was three and hadn¢t been back since. Therefore for thirteen years I had to live with mood swings from my mother and her constant alcoholism.

Trust, if there was another way that I could have provided for myself without having to succumb to the welfare system of the state of Connecticut I would have been out of there a long time ago. I suppose in some ways one could suggest that I was a subject of the State of Connecticut¢s welfare system through my mother, then respond what was the big deal? Well, that fact in itself was enough to turn my stomach away from being dependant on the state.

All my life I had been witness to my mother¢s lack of motivation. She used me for a check and free rent. Food stamps were our way of life not because she did not have another way, but because she was unmotivated to get a job. Instead she loved to hustle here and there, drinking and partying like she was the sixteen year old.

"Look at you, over there looking like your daddy. I should have aborted you when I got pregnant, but the only thing you are good for is a check, taxes and the damn dishes!"

Her words were hurtful but I continued to block them out of my mind. I started to sing to myself Mary J. Blidge¢s song "No More Drama". Only, for me the drama would never end, but the song gave me some hope that there would be a change soon coming.

I longed for school, and work. Those were the times that I could be away from my mother and could truly clear my mind from her mess. Unfortunately it was a Friday night and school was two days away. I had to work on Saturday but it would only be a short day at the hair salon. I was in the midst of thinking of what else I could do when my mother began talking her craziness.

The siren from the phone ringing pierced through the chaos of our home. "Get the phone little girl, it aint for nobody but you anyway. I¢m going to cut the thing off you know! Keep testing me which your smart little self."

I tried hard not to roll my eyes at her as I went to answer the phone, respecting her was hard to do which regardless of her actions was necessary because she was my mother in the end. "Dream?" A woman was half weeping on the other end of the line. I recognized her voice faintly.

"Ms. Dawkins?"

"Dream...." she wailed my name like it was causing her pain. My heart sank right then, I knew that if she was calling me then there was nothing that could have been good about the phone call.

"Yes ma¢am?" I wanted to comfort her, the pain in her voice was evident. She was my best friend Adrian¢s mother.

"My baby is gone!!!" She wept through the phone line. Now that line puzzled me because to my knowledge, Adrian and her mother had never been close and that was the main reason that Adrian and I were so tight. I questioned as to how Ms. Dawkins could be claiming such closeness now.

Her next words cemented me to the floor, I felt as though I would fall out from duress. "Ms. Dawkins what are you saying?"

"Adrian killed her self." She cried.

"What!!" That couldn¢t be! Adrian had been my only refuge for years. We had met in jr. high and were inseparable since then.

"She shot her self with David¢s gun, there¢s a letter here that she wrote to you and the police are asking you to come and get it. They won¢t let me read it because it¢s addressed to you. I should be able to read it, I am her mother!!!" she screamed into the phone.

In panic I spoke, "Okay, I¢m coming over give me about twenty minutes." I threw the phone on the cradle rushing to my room to grab my belongings and some change for the bus before running out the door.

My mother screamed behind me, "What¢s going on?" I left her question unanswered. I couldn¢t deal with her just then. I couldn¢t ask her for a ride to get there sooner because she didn¢t own a car. It wasn¢t uncommon in Bridgeport for people to go their lives without driving because the transit system was everywhere. Tears were streaming down my face like a free falling waterfall. My heart was beating against my chest so hard I could feel every pump.

There had to be a mistake, my best friend could not have been dead. No, this was not happening. My mind raced a million miles a minute. I frantically pushed the button at the elevator before I decided that I couldn¢t wait for it. Impatient I rushed to the stairwell jumping down the stairs taking them ten at a time. I was rushing recklessly needing only to get to where my best friend was.

When I finally got outside and let the fresh air meet my face, the coldness made me shiver and shake from head to toe. I couldn¢t afford to allow the cold to slow me down. The immense mounds of snow that was on either side of the sidewalk was not a hindrance either. Not when I had a determination on my heart.

Without consideration of the hard exterior I was trying to uphold, my tears invaded my eyes once again spilling across my face. My chest got tight again, I felt as though I was not going to be able to breathe, once again. I felt as though it might be me that might be next to die, once again.

The bus stop that was right outside of my apartment building was packed with people needing to get to destinations that did not concern me. Again, impatience crept up in my bones. The bus being nowhere in sight and Adrian¢s home on Iranistan Ave was not that far off.

I turned, starting to run as fast as I could through the snow and slush trying to get to her. I had never ran so fast in my life. I could have won an Olympic medal as swift as I was moving. I ran around corners and through alleys wishing that my legs were faster than they appeared.

Adrian couldn¢t have been dead, I thought, it was our sophomore year in high school. We had so much looking up for us. We had planned on going on a college tour that was sponsored by the Smart Start program in just two weeks. I needed my girl to go with me and help me make a move out of the hood. I needed my girl to help me have hope that there was a way out. We had gone through so much just to be approved to go on the trip.

All that year my mother had ranted about how she wasn¢t going to sign no papers to allow me to carry my ¢fast ass¢ down to no HBSU college tour. I begged and pleaded and eventually paid her one hundred dollars to allow me to go. My mother didn¢t break down until the money was in her hand. While some would consider the bribe to be a trifling road block in the way of my future, I was used to her behavior.

Every time my mother thought that I was doing something to better myself she lashed out at me. She had done everything in her will to keep me from doing better in life but I was going to make her eat her words when I made it.

Adrian could not be dead.

I didn¢t slow down until I finally got close to her street. It was as if the world had halted and desired to go slow motion. The evening air made me cringe a little but not much.

So many emergency vehicles were outside her home. An ambulance and several police cars were everywhere. I didn¢t feel myself moving closer to her home until I was right up on the fence that surrounded her home. The green siding seemed so familiar. Cats were prancing around her home as though they had no idea that a tragedy lay inside. I was a moment away from finding out that what I hoped had been a misunderstanding, was actually reality.

I recall constant flickers from CSI cameras capturing everything in the house. Wailing came from the kitchen where Adrian¢s mother was talking to two detectives. For some reason their compassion seemed insincere.

"Can I help you?" an officer finally said to me after I had made it all up and through the house.

I saw blood on the carpet, a gun on the floor and a chair in the middle of the living room. I looked from the scene to Ms. Dawkins and back. I just assumed that there had to be a mistake, but apparently not. I lost my best friend.

"Young lady, young lady, can I help you?"

"Ms. Dawkins called me." I said in a low whisper wondering where Adrian was. She wasn¢t in the chair. I wondered if Ms. Dawkins had come home from work and found her there, I had just talked to her that day. Only a few hours earlier at school, we talked about going on our trip. She sounded excited at the time. But in hind sight, I wondered if that was the truth. Sadly, I would never find out.

"Dream!" Ms. Dawkins howled my name making the two detectives look in my direction.

"Johnson, we will handle this." One of the detectives said motioning in my direction. "Dream, we¢ve been waiting for you. I thank you for coming as swift as you did."

"What is going on?" I was still in denial. I knew full and well what was going on but I couldn¢t believe it fully. No matter how much blood I had seen or the gun laying on the floor, not even Ms. Dawkins crying made me completely believe it.

"We¢d like to talk to you for a moment. First, I¢m very sorry for your loss." Ms. Dawkins glared at me upon the detectives words as though I didn¢t deserve them. Oh, I deserved them. "She left a suicide note but she expressly addressed that it be opened and read by you. Normally, and considering the circumstances we would have read it. But in light of the situation we wanted to honor her wishes. We need you to open it, read it and then we will need it back to record it as evidence. Once the case is closed we can return it to you if you would like it. I am certain that it will be relatively soon, normally these cases are open and shut but you will understand our need to hold on to the letter for a bit?"

The question he posed was more like a general statement than anything. He didn¢t really want to ask for my permission. He was just being polite. He could see the pain in my eyes as he held out the letter to me.

Ironically enough she had written it on stationary that had the saying ¢too blessed to be stressed¢ on it. The outside of the letter was addressed as precisely as the detective suggested. I was surprised that Ms. Dawkins hadn¢t opened it. I could understand the detectives requesting my presence but she had reasons to not want me there. In more ways then one she had verbalized her disdain for my relationship with Adrian. Ms. Dawkins knew she neglected her only child. Her major focus had been her boyfriend for sometime leaving Adrian to fend for herself in life. Therefore the only person in the world that shared her pain was me. The only way that Ms. Dawkins didn¢t open the letter before me was if she didn¢t see it. The detectives must have retrieved it at a later time.

I opened the envelope slowly being careful not to tear it too much. I unfolded the inner pages which were hand written. I didn¢t know whether they wanted me to read it aloud or not but everyone¢s eyes were on me so I felt compelled to do so.

Dream,

I love you so much. You are the sister that I always wanted and I am sorry that I have to do this to you. But I have to get out of this life. Death must be better than this. We have shared on many occasions our similar struggles and I know that more than anyone else, you would understand why I had to do this.

Please don¢t think any less of me. I will explain it all here, as much as I can. What I don¢t want to happen is you going through life not knowing why I did this. I had to do this. I know that we had plans to make it out the ¢port but I can¢t wait to get out. I mean everyday I hurt more and more.

I¢ve got a secret that I only told one other person in life. And when I told her she called me a liar. But this secret is one that I can no longer live with and I must end it all. I have to.

My mother¢s boyfriend has been molesting and raping me for more than two years now. And I just confirmed I am pregnant with his child. I can¢t birth a bastard child. He will deny it, my mother won¢t have me because when I told her that he was touching me she didn¢t believe me. She made me feel as though I had done something to bring this on to myself. That¢s not the case. Trust me it¢s not. I never once enjoyed what he was doing to me. I just didn¢t know where else to turn after my mother shot me down.

I didn¢t want this in life. I did nothing to make this man do what he has been doing to me. I hated coming home because of him and he told me no one would believe me so this is the only way that I could make everyone listen.

Hopefully they can test my babies dna and confirm that he is the father. I saw on t.v. they could do that and I hope they can so that they will believe me. I know he is because I was a virgin before him, I hate that man and I wish him hell with me for what he has done to me.

Dream, please remember the good times that we have had. Don¢t let this tear your memory of me from your thoughts. I want you to remember me and make me a promise that you will get out and live your life. Get out for both of us.

I hope God will forgive me for taking my life and I pray that I will see you again one day in heaven. I¢m so sorry if I¢ve disappointed you and for hiding this from you. But trust that I love you like a sister.

Adrian

"She¢s a liar! Even in death she is a liar!" Ms. Dawkins screamed jumping up from the table as though she wanted to attack me. Her actions confirmed Adrian¢s confession. Her mother was not defending her daughters honor, she preferred to uphold her no good man instead. "That girl done killed her self and she trying to blame my man, he aint never touch her."

"Ma¢am we need you to calm down." The detective pronounced.

"I will not! I will not sit here and let you all come in my home and assume my man was doing anything to her. She killed her self for some other reason. That is not true. Dream, give me that letter, I am going to burn it!"

I was certain that Ms. Dawkins must have had a stroke of insanity as there was no way in hell that I was going to give her a damn thing. The detectives, who were now emotionally confused about what I had read and Ms. Dawkins¢s actions, proceeded to restrain her.

"Ms. Dawkins, I¢m afraid that will not be an option. Where is your boyfriend we¢d like to ask him some questions."

"I don¢t know where he is but if I did I wouldn¢t tell you!" she replied.

"Ma¢am please tell us where he is."

"No! I can¢t believe you are pursuing this. Even in death the little whore lies!" Ms. Dawkins screamed translating her pain for the loss of her daughter to her pain in the soon to be loss of her boyfriend. I could not believe that she was defending him. Rather than taking up for her child who was now gone, she was defending a raggedy pedophile.

I stood there in silence, astonished that even after her daughter¢s death this woman would have no compassion in her heart. The tears that she had shed earlier seemed fake as they changed like a chameleon in front of our eyes, it was disgusting.

"Ma¢am we must pursue this. If what your daughter is stating in this letter is true we must look into the issue. And it will start with the autopsy where we will retrieve your daughter¢s baby for dna testing. Now it will be in your best interest to tell us now where this man is otherwise what will happen is a number of things. First I will personally look into everything about you and him. Then I will charge you will interfering with an investigation. Then I will make sure that someone is posted up twenty four hours in front of your door until this sick man decides he wants to come home. And trust lady when we lock him up, there won¢t be anything for you to remember him by because I will make sure to tell his new prison buddies that he likes little kids. So you choose lady, because you already chose death for your little girl who is the one that deserves your tears!" The detective exclaimed.

I imagined him thinking of Adrian as his own daughter and not understanding why her own mother was unable to sympathize with the young deceased girl. I cried for my best friend. Her mother was ill, she had to be. Adrian was gone.

The only thing that marked her presence to the world now was a vacant chair and a blood stained carpet. I hated life.