It's hot! As I sit surrounded by others, I am daydreaming about snow. I have never seen snow, but I still imagine its brightness and vibrancy as I see it on the television. I reach up and wipe sweat from my forehead and smile at my best friend Story. Story and I have been best friends since we were five years old. Story has seven brothers and sisters, but I will get to them later. We are in church listening to Pastor King give his sermon. We have been in church for over three hours, and we are ready to go, but I have never been happier. As the fans drone in the background, all around me paper fans with pictures of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and a funeral home are busily being swished back and forth from almost every hand in the building. The bright lights above us add a few degrees to the temperature, but they also make you forget that outside the door, the sky is dark as velvet, with only the stars giving visibility to the night.
"I know that some of you have faced things that no one else in this room could ever dream of facing, but I am here to tell you, don't give in. The storm doesn't last always. The sun has to shine sometimes. Remember, no matter what anyone else tells you, God has said in his word: I will never leave you nor forsake you. I will never put more on you than you can bear. So, brothers and sisters, when things seem like they are never going to get any better, and when it feels as if you cannot go another step, you are stronger than you thought, because the God in you is stronger than any struggle that you may have to face. Choir, come on up here and sing for me." The choir got up and began to sing one of my favorite songs, "Something Inside So Strong." Pastor King used to end his sermon like this about once a month. Some would get tired of the speech, but I relished the words when they poured from his mouth. They were like a balm to my troubled soul.
My name is Rain Jenkins-Wooten. In a few days I will be turning nineteen years old. To describe myself, I would say that my skin is the color of warm caramel. My best friend Story says that I am nothing but skin and bones, but I think that I can still stand to lose at least ten more pounds. My auburn-colored hair hangs just below my waist, and I have pretty straight white teeth, although I can't remember ever going to the dentist. When I look into the mirror, I see my mother Lorraine, but that is where the similarities end. Sometimes I wonder what my father could have seen in her. Where she is rude and vulgar, my father is calm and classy.
I assume that one of the main things that attracted him to her was her looks. I have to admit, she is a stunning woman. Lorraine stands about 5'2", and she is a little lighter in skin tone than me. She has long hair that is naturally auburn with honey-brown highlights. Looking at pictures of when she was younger, I can tell she also had a body to die for. Unfortunately, in between her drinking and giving birth to me, nothing is as it once was. My eyes are smoky grey. I don't know where I get the color from. Lorraine's eyes are hazel, and my father's eyes are dark brown. My height, 5'11", is another mystery to me. I am such a giant over both of my parents. My dad only tops 5'6", if not less, although when I was younger he seemed like a giant to me.
Growing up, I thought that I was a princess. My father and grandfather made sure that all my days were filled with only the most wonderful of things. I laugh when I think back on how if there was just a crumb on my bed, I would have a fit. The first time I did that, Lorraine began berating me, telling me to grow up; but my dad, my hero, always knowing what to do, shook off my bed and told me the story of the Princess and the Pea. There was nothing that I couldn't have if I asked. Besides material things, I had both parents living at home, and I had my own live toy — my grandpa — to make me smile at any given moment. My grandpa would take me out to his garden and teach me about all the different flowers and insects crawling around. He and my dad would also turn off all the lights in the house and have a rousing game of hide-and-seek while Lorraine looked on in disapproval.
I know now what they mean when they say that if you have never known stormy weather, you can't appreciate the sun. But at that time, I had only known summer. Never in my young mind would I have thought that your life could change in an instant. You could wake up one day and nothing would be familiar. You could wake up one day and be something that you surely weren't the day before. I remember the day that changed my life like it was yesterday, maybe because I look back on it so often.
I woke up with a smile, as I did on every other morning, but this day was extra special. The sun was shining on my face as I watched the Rainbow Bright curtains blowing gently in the breeze. I was happy because today was my fifth birthday, and I would finally be considered a big girl. Gone were the days of me being treated like a little kid! I would also have a few more responsibilities, but at five years old, I wanted them — heck, I needed them. Today, my grandpa was taking me to Lowry Park Zoo, and then when my daddy came home from work, we were all going out to dinner. I didn't even think of my mother. I would not allow her to spoil my day. She had an uncanny way of doing this, even when she didn't realize it.
My grandpa and I were going to the zoo alone, and when we went to dinner, he and my father would both be there to take my mother's attention away from me. They served as a buffer between my mother and me for as long as I could remember. Even by this age, I had learned to tolerate my mother rather than love her. It was her fault, really. Since she had not shown me love, I didn't know how to give it to her. Without a doubt, I love my grandpa and my daddy, but they are different. I can't help it, my mother is a whore — a downright, fuck-anything-that-moves whore. Be it a man or a woman, it doesn't matter. As long as they could afford to buy her a drink or two, they had a place between her legs. I didn't understand what being a whore meant, and I didn't even know that the word existed, but on this day, the word, its meaning, and a prime example were shown to me in stark reality.
Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I climbed out of my bed, slipped my feet into my Strawberry Shortcake slippers, and went to my window. I pulled the curtains back and lifted the window up another notch. I made my bed the best that I could, brushed my teeth like a good little girl, and finally made my way to the kitchen. I primly sat at the table after giving my grandpa a kiss and telling him what I wanted for breakfast. I don't know why we went through this same routine when I requested the same thing every morning. I had a glass of orange juice and a bowl of my favorite cereal, cornflakes with fresh blueberries. Sometimes I would ask for toast with grape jelly too, but more often than not, I would just have the cereal. I guess something can be said for repetition, to give off the semblance of normalcy. Grandpa went over the agenda for the day, and he had carefully constructed it so that I wouldn't have to spend a moment with my mother until dinner. He also made sure that he wouldn't be too tired from our outing to enjoy the nice dinner that was planned at his favorite restaurant, "The Sizzler."
I am not gonna lie and say that my mother abused me. Well, not physically, anyway. I had never received a spanking, and verbal abuse didn't really fit into the meaning of abuse during the early eighties. Whenever she yelled at me, grandpa or daddy knew how to draw the heat unto them to save me from the scalding words dripping from her lips. I was excited that I would be going to the zoo with grandpa, but the main event for me would be dinner. My daddy worked so many long hours at the mine that the only time I was able to share dinner with him was on the weekends. It was Wednesday, no less, so I knew what a special treat I would be getting. Although my daddy pretended that he forgot my birthday every year, he always got me just what I wanted.
After eating breakfast, I went into the living room to watch the Smurfs to pass the time away. I hadn't seen my mother, but this was not unusual. She never made an appearance until Jam came on. It was one of my favorites, but that soon changed when I learned that the Jam cartoon meant that Lorraine would be up soon, ruining my day. Hell, by then she would be drunk. She went to bed drunk, woke up drunk, and drank throughout the day. Growing up, I thought my mother was gonna die before I became a woman, for all the time she spent in her bedroom "sick." My mother is what is known as a functioning alcoholic. Most times she is very mean when she is loaded, but I have learned that silence is definitely a virtue in my household. As long as I am silent when in and around the vicinity of my home, I can usually escape her notice. I watched a couple episodes of the Smurfs, but I couldn't keep still long enough to watch He-Man, so I went to put on some play clothes to go out into the yard.
After the tenth time running into the house to check the time, my grandpa finally told me to go get dressed. I was so excited about going to the zoo, but mostly because, soon after we came home from the zoo, daddy would be home. Grandpa and I spent the morning at the zoo looking at the animals and taking a train ride around the park. My favorite part of the ride was the gorilla habitat that they had. I loved to see the mama gorilla taking care of the babies. The way that they walked on their knuckles was the funniest thing that I had ever seen. It seemed as if they were watching me as much as I was watching them, as if they found me as fascinating as I found them. I had been to the zoo too many times to count, so in my young mind, I believed that the gorillas knew me from all the other little kids. We ate lunch at one of the picnic tables that surrounded the duck pond, and he bought me cotton candy. On the ride home, to grandpa's delight, I could hardly keep my eyes open.
When we got home, he put me down for a nap, then took his special seat in front of the television to watch Godzilla. Waking from my nap, I looked at my clock and realized that soon my daddy would be home. I went into my bathroom with my bubble bath and ran a little tub of water; I was a big girl now, after all! I grabbed my Barbie and Ken dolls and placed them into the tub. I grabbed my Baby Oops Oops, placed her on the floor of the bathroom with my Raggedy Ann doll, and got in the tub. As I played in the tub with Ken and Barbie, I sang the happy birthday song under my breath. I knew that since I didn't hear my name being called, my mother was most likely still asleep. After a while, I climbed out, dried my dolls and myself, and put on my robe. I went into my room and pulled out my new birthday outfit. It was a white shirt with yellow daisies and a pair of yellow shorts. I pulled on my lace socks with the yellow flowers and my brand-spanking-new pair of shoes — a pair of Mary Janes that I used to love hearing clanking on the floor, as if they were high heels.
I took the comb and brush and stood in the chair that was part of the vanity set in my room to do my hair. I parted my hair down the middle the best I could and put a ponytail on each side. I tied a yellow-and-white ribbon on both and deemed myself ready. I walked silently past my sleeping grandpa and took a seat on the front porch. Although grandpa took great joy in taking me places, I could be very tiring for an old man. I sat there swatting mosquitoes and swinging my legs back and forth. I watched the neighbors passing in their cars as I anxiously waited to see my daddy's black Cadillac. It was like my body was humming, the anticipation was so strong.
After a while, I went inside to look at the clock. Time really moves slowly for a five-year-old. It felt as if I had been outside for ages waiting, when in reality it had only been a few minutes. I went back outside to wait some more. I carefully watched my shoes, dusting off the tiniest fleck of dirt. This was my first pair of white shoes, and I was determined to keep them clean. After what seemed like another eternity, I went back inside to get something to drink. I giggled as I passed grandpa, who chose that moment to let out a small fart and snore simultaneously. I pulled a chair up to the counter to get a cup out of the cabinet. Then I changed my mind and wrapped my hands around a glass. Since I was turning five today, I felt that entitled me to drink out of a glass rather than my plastic kiddy-cup.
I jumped down and carefully placed my glass on the floor. I pushed the chair back underneath the table and turned back to the refrigerator. I opened the door, put an apple on the table, grabbed the container of lemonade, and held the door open with my foot. After pouring my drink, I carefully put the container back and shut the door. I turned and took a small bite of my apple and picked up the glass carefully. Before I could take a drink, I dropped my glass, being frightened by the front door slamming. For a moment, as I looked at the shattered glass on the floor, I debated whether I should clean it first or run to my daddy, then clean it. My excitement at seeing my daddy won out, and I ran out to the living room. I was just in time to see and hear my daddy slam out of the house. My grandpa jumped up and looked towards the door. For a reason unknown, I became afraid. Probably because my daddy had never come into the house and left without saying at least one word to me, and I had never heard him slam a door in our house. That was Lorraine's territory.
I rushed to the door and pushed my way out. Skidding to the edge of the steps, I called my daddy's name. He looked up at me while putting the car into reverse. The look on his face broke my heart into a million pieces. I could barely see the tears on his face through the tears in my eyes. I screamed my dad's name as the car began to back out of the driveway. He never said a word. He just closed his eyes briefly and quickly left the house. I don't know how long I stood there waiting for him to come back. That is the first time I remember saying a prayer that didn't precede me closing my eyes for the night. "Please God, let my daddy come back." I sank down and watched as my tears dropped onto my thighs. When the roaring left my ears and my tears were just a mere drip off my chin, I realized that my mother and grandfather were yelling at each other. When their words registered in my brain, I began to pray that I would go deaf so that I could avoid the things coming from the woman who brought me into the world.
"Lorraine, how could you?" my grandpa yelled.
"What do you mean? No one told the bastard to come home early," she laughed.
"I don't care if he never left the house or wasn't due home until New Year's, how could you sleep with that man in your husband's bed?" he asked angrily.
"Because I can! I get more action with someone else than he ever gives me. I can count on my fingers how many times he has touched me since I had Rain. I have needs, damnit!" She slurred, well on her way to being drunk.
"Speaking of needs, what about the needs of your daughter? You know that John loves that girl, and to do this on her birthday? What in hell were you thinking?" Grandpa thundered as I watched the neighbors start to gather in our yard.
"Oh, damn! Fuck her. She is the reason I am in this mess. Rain this and Rain that! She has everything she could ask for, but she only whines and gets on my damn nerves. Don't nobody give a damn about me! If he loves her so much, why did he leave her? He should have taken her with him, shit. I should have had an abortion, but noooo! You begged me, talking about how wrong that would be. And don't you think for one second I don't know why that fool decided to marry me. I waited and waited, and all he could say was how he wasn't ready, then I got pregnant and all of a sudden, he was ready? Fuck that! Besides, I am a grown-ass woman, and I can do as I damn well please!" she screeched.
"Maybe you don't give a damn, but I do, so lower your voice. Not only is your daughter sitting on the front porch hearing every damn word you are saying, the neighbors are coming into the yard being nosy. Even if you aren't embarrassed for yourself, show some modesty for her and even the man you were laid up with!"
"Shit! For who, Davy? He is his own man. Ain't no muthafucking shame in my game. Hell, if he is so embarrassed, maybe he should have stayed his ass at home. I didn't beg him to come over here today, just like I don't beg him to come any other day. He is the one that needs to be worrying about his wife, not me. Ain't no shame in my game!" She laughed, coming as far as the screen door to leer at the neighbors.
"Why you trying to mess up that man's home? His wife is right out there. You talking all that shit, but if that woman comes up in here and kick your ass, I am getting a front-row seat!" he mocked as he came to lead me back into the house.
"Who, Sheila? That bitch ain't crazy! I done beat that hoe ass one time, and she don't want no more of this!" She laughed. Mrs. Sheila just looked at my mom with pure hate. I swear, if she had lasers for eyes, my mother would have been turned into a pile of ashes on the spot. My grandpa steered me through the house as my mom continued to make lewd comments about what she had been doing in her bedroom. He took me out to the backyard and tried to interest me in his garden. As he droned on about the different flowers and vegetables that he had growing, all I could think of were Lorraine's hurtful words. What the heck was an abortional? What did she mean, "Ain't no shame in my game?" What game was she playing? If this really was a game that she was playing, then I sure didn't get the rules. What kind of game would make her hurt my daddy and make him cry? It would be years until I figured that out.
That night I cried myself to sleep. My daddy didn't come back before my bedtime, so I figured that I wouldn't see him again. Once my grandpa read me a story and tucked me in, I closed my eyes until he left my room. Then I let the tears fall. I wanted to show grandpa that I could be strong. The pain that I saw in his eyes for me hurt almost as bad as the thought of my daddy never coming back. Every time I thought about the look on his face and the possibility that I wouldn't see him again, my chest began to hurt, and it felt as if I was incapable of taking another breath. I don't know when I fell asleep exactly, but it was a restless sleep. I began to dream horrible dreams in which my daddy left, and then we would hear a horrific crash. My grandpa and I would join the neighbors, who all would begin to run to the sound. It seemed like the more I ran, the farther back I would be. I called out to grandpa, but he kept running because he couldn't hear me. Before I could make it up the hill, I would jerk awake. I would sit up in my bed and wonder at the tears that are dripping down my face, because the dream by then would be fading fast.
I felt him before I saw him; I can't tell you if it was my dream or his presence that woke me from my sleep. I just remember something told me to open my eyes. When I did, I saw my daddy sitting on the edge of the bed watching me. Before I could utter a sound, he placed his forefinger to his lips. I jumped up and rushed into his arms. Silently I cried as he whispered that everything would be all right and patted my back. I never wanted my daddy to let me go. I just knew that once he did, I would lose him forever.
"Don't cry, my Sunshine. You know that daddy loves you," he kept repeating.
"Don't leave me, daddy. I promise that I will be a good girl," I whimpered.
"You have always been a good girl. I am not leaving because of you. I am leaving for you," he stated.
"What do you mean, for me? You can't leave me, daddy. I will just die!" I cried.
"I have to leave, so that I will not go crazy. I may not be living with you anymore, but I will always be here when you need me the most. I promise. Every morning when you open your beautiful gray eyes, and before you close them at night, I will be here."
"Take me with you, daddy. I can clean up. I know how to make my own bed, and I even know how to wash the dishes," I pleaded desperately.
"It will be alright. Trust me, Sunshine," he whispered as tears created a river down his face. I buried my face into his neck and held on tighter.
"You trust me, don't you, Sunshine?" he asked.
"Yes, daddy, just don't leave me," I said as I cried harder.
"Just trust me, baby, and I will never lie to you, okay?" he asked.
"Yes." I cried as my heart broke into a million pieces when the realization hit that he was leaving me. I had never hated another person until the night I began to hate my mother. It was her fault. If only. Sometime later, I fell asleep as my daddy sang "Summertime" to me. Sure enough, when I woke up the next morning, my daddy was sitting there with a smile on his face. My father kept his promise to me until the morning after my thirteenth birthday. My grandpa had died three months earlier. I didn't find out until later that by then drugs had consumed my daddy. Another thing I blamed my mother for. I guess in the end, he couldn't put up with her without a buffer, even for my sake.