My heart pounding, I stood my ground, leaned against the door and crossed my arms across my chest. My sister Diva looked at him because she knew what he was about to say, which was why she told me I shouldn’t have told him in the first place.

He looked past Mama and into my face.

“I bet you Pharoah didn’t tell you he has AIDS!” he spewed evilly, laughing like something was funny.

My sister Diva said, “Why did you do that! You’re always telling people’s business? What if he didn’t want Mama finding out that way? GROW UP! OH MY GOD!” she slammed her door closed.

He knew the damage he THOUGHT he caused. Shit, he made it easier for me to tell her now. Did my job for me. Thank you.

Now I didn’t have to lose any sleep wondering how I was gong to tell her. I wasn’t even mad, because I knew he would eventually tell her.

That’s why I told him.

He warmed to his subject. “…With his faggot ass! He got AIDS and he is keeping it a secret.”

Mama was shocked but didn’t show it on her face. I studied her and tried my best not to say anything. I wanted to.

I wanted to hug her and tell her I’d be fine. But I didn’t. I hadn’t hugged her in a very long time.

She hasn’t said she loved me in over 15 years and didn’t have any plans on doing so.

For her to find out that way eye thought I would hate his piss colored, skinny ass for the rest of my life.

Mama said, “And you got diabetes. We all got to die from something. And you don’t take your insulin!”

I leaned my back against the door and slid down to the rug, covering my face. I hate that boy so gahdmn much.

A few months later. Mama got into it with me over painting her house. I was working for the Boston Culinary Group (I hated working for that company, where I suffered sexual harassment from my young white male boss), inside Dolphin Stadium (now Landshark Stadium).

I worked the Orange Bowl game, Virginia Tech against Kansas. Eye was one of the supervisors of the retail warehouse (the white folks had me thinking I was a
supervisor.

I was the joke and they even made me go to Supervisor Training. What a HOAX!). Eye pulled 18 hours at the game, caught two buses, the Metro Rail, and the Bus Way Max home and since it was after 1 a.m. the #70 bus stopped running so Eye had to walk three miles down Moody Drive from US1 home.

She was in my face already. “Are you gonna paint my doors?”

Lord, get out my damn face woman, gahdamn! “Mama I’m tired.”

"I don’t give a shit!” she yelled. “Eye want my doors painted.”

Shit, buy a gahdmn dildo. You need your ass tapped, and badly. I should go find her a gahdmn MAN!

“Tomorrow,” I offered. Her eyes glowing red coals. “TONIGHT!”

I was angry with matching glowing eyes. “I’m not painting no gahdamn house doors right now. I'm tired. I just worked eighteen hours straight and I need sleep.”

“So you ain’t gonna paint my doors?”

“Um, not till tomorrow.”

“Pack your shit and GET OUT MY HOUSE.”

"Chile…”

I got in bed and took my tall ass to sleep.

Didn’t have time for it.