“I have nowhere to go, Ma,” I said, angry inside. She’s mad at me because I didn’t leave Big Lots (I stocked shelves) when she called. Shit, I was on the clock. She wanted me to board up her house because Hurricane Frances was approaching Miami (or was it Rita?).

“I don’t care! You need to pack your shit and leave! Get out!”

“Again I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Ain’t my problem. I’ma call your parole officer and tell him I want you gone. You will get violated and your ass going back to prison.”

The words were like a saw in a bad dream cutting off my legs when eye was already a paraplegic caught in a nightmare. I went through four years of hell in prison, and
she wanted to send me back, because I wouldn’t jump when she said jump.

“Tell him what you want!”

“You not gonna get out my house?”

“No.”

She went on a rampage. She threw my papers up the hall, my photos and picture frames with it. They shattered on the tile floor.

"I WANT YOU OUT MY FUCKING HOUSE!”

She opened my drawers, threw my clothes in the hall. She then opened the front door. It was well after 9 p.m.

She threw my shit out in the rain. My clothes in the front  yard. My books. MY BOOKS! Rained on, destroyed. People across the street watched in shock.

Make a scene. The more people who watched her the more amped she was. Show Pharoah who was boss. She pushed me out the door in green boxers with money bags all over them and a wife beater.

Mosquitoes were wating me up. She slammed the door closed. I would be homeless for the next 8 months…

Getting most of my stuff out the rain, my sister brought me garbage bags behind her back. I salvaged what I could and threw away what I couldn’t save. My pictures
of Chad, my best friend. Destroyed. My manuscripts, 8 of them, gone forever.
I was in tears. My sister said, “I’m sorry, Pharoah.”

“I don’t know why she hates me so much.”

“Just love her anyway.”

“For what? She’s dark, bitter and evil. I can’t believe she ruined my things.”

“It’ll be ok. Just watch.”

“No it won’t.”

“Why you say that?”

I looked her deeply in the eyes.

“I hate her.”

Mama was always picking fights with me, reminding me of what I didn’t have. She had it all: house, cars and bank accounts.

She was on top of the world. Stellar career with the FEDS. Seasoned officer. All she cared about was her career. It ate away at her. It was her obsession.

She hated me and I didn’t give a shit because I hated her ass, too.

(NOTE: I don’t hate my mother now, I truly loved her but that’s how I felt at the time).

She took me away from my father. She’s the reason he was never there. Took me and moved from my Daddy in California, where I was born and brought me to Goulds (Miami) Florida, where I would get raped four years straight by that evil bitch she married.

She wasn’t always seasoned. She forgot where we came from, but bet your ass eye NEVER forgot! Back when we were broke as fuck. Back when the neighborhood kids
used to throw pennies at my dirty ass.

“Here’s a penny for hour water bill. Hey FAGGOT HERE’S A PENNY FOR YA’LL LIGHTS!

I hated those days. Back when we had to walk up the block with empty water jugs to fill them up with water from the neighbors. Back when we ran that green hose through the back window to fill the tub. FEDS weren’t there for her ass then!

But as her first born and oldest kid I was there for her rain, sleet and goddamn snow. Her oldest child. Me.

Her first born. Did she say thank you? Fuck no. I remembered those cold baths. I guess she forgot. I hope she didn’t think she got this shit on her own.

If it wasn’t for me staying home as a teenager keeping her gahdamn children and cooking like I had titties and a
pussy she wouldn’t have half the shit she got now.

I guess she grand now, Mama forgot.

When you get it all you forgot who helped you along the way. She was the PRIME EXAMPLE.

But I kept my cool, didn’t say a thing.