Small Town Swag

Small Town Swag

I wrote and re-wrote for hours trying to come up with a witty introduction and I got nowhere so I decided rather than beat around the bush I’d try a more direct approach and lay all of my cards on the table. I am a self-proclaimed fashionista, in my own right, from a city that couldn’t be further from stylistic innovation or any innovation for that matter.

In Youngstown, Ohio (or the “YO” as we natives like to call it) one is guaranteed to see a few things, which include the remnants of a fallen steel industry, pot holes in just about every crack or crevice, troublesome youth and many more context clues indicating a poverty-stricken community, but if you tilt your head a little and squint your eyes you may be surprised to see something fascinating emerge. That is, a world of endless creativity.

Sometimes finding fashion pioneers with creative minds in Yongstown is as easy a task as trying to locate Waldo on a page full of chaos. However, creative thinkers, though far and in between, do exist and just like Waldo are usually found in the most unlikely places, and are arguably just as detail-oriented when it comes to clothes, shoes and accessories as the editors of any Vogue magazine.

Take for instance, Willie Gregory, born and bred on the city’s southside, who managed to use geometric shapes, bright colors and his imagination to turn two simple words, slap and life (Spread Love And Peace Life Is Free Education) into a city-wide sensation. While utilizing the help of Twitter and Facebook, Gregory had launched a city-wide fashion trend that not only has gotten the attention of his community, but also provides a sense of pride and fashion redemption.

“I try and make it easy to understand and for everyone. It isn’t just  for hood n****s and back-packers, It’s for everyone, and SLAP LIFE isn’t just about fashion. I , oneday, plan on using the profits from it to use to aide impoverished communities like Youngstown and other places that are in need,” Gregory said.

 Gregory and other lovers of everything fashion, like myself, are not always at the forefront of the conversation when it comes to fashion, but are hoping to become relavant. I’ve heard so many argue that fashionable instincts are as likely to occur on a large scale in this town as fish walking upright in the Sahara desert and honestly I can’t say that their doubts are without merit, but what I can say is the lack of access to chic and sophisticated influence from larger cities is what forced me to fend for myself in a jungle of patterns, prints and colors. I found that the same poor socio-economic conditions  that disqualified me from purchasing merchandise from top designers like Christian Louibitan and Vercase  is what catapulted my inner diva. I learned early that the closest I was ever going to get to a SoHo boutique was a visit to my mother and grandmother’s closets or the local Goodwill and I was OK with that. Instead of feeling unequipped to compete with the likes of New York or Paris

I decided that I’d bring my own sense of eccentricity to the table and ,for me, that’s enough. My definition of fashion and style cannot be found in the latest pages of magazines or a Hollywood red carpet. I find inspiration from the cracked crevaces in the streets of my neighborhood, from the attics of my aunts and uncles and the experiences of my hometown.

Small Town Swag : Preview

 

Fashion: Small Town Swag: Preview 

I wrote and re-wrote for hours trying to come up with a witty introduction and I got nowhere. So I decided rather than dance around the facts I’d try a more direct approach and lay all of my cards on the table. I am a self-proclaimed fashionista, in my own right, from a city that couldn’t be further from stylistic innovation or any innovation for that matter. In Youngstown, Ohio (or the  “YO” as we native like to call it) one is guarenteed to see a few things, which include the remnants of a fallen steele industry, pot holes in just about every crack or crevace , trouble some youth and poor economic conditions, but if you tilt your head a little and squint your eyes you may be able to see something fascinating emerge. That is, a world of endless creativity.

Mr, & Mrs. Lovely Secrets: Archived Pages

Mr. & Mrs.  Lovely Secrets:  Archive Pages  

 I hung up but tears continued to fall down my face. I thought about calling Mister right back but I was in no mood for witty banter or his usual “I love you but I just can’t be with you “spiel. I sat on my bed ripping through pages and pages of the same bullshit that I had endured for years. I was no stranger to rejection but the aroma of Mister’s decision to blatantly choose another over me left an unforgettable stench that I couldn’t shake. How could I have been such an idiot? I was a participant in my own second-class citizenship in his sick twisted love triangle. Mister was a special kind of deceiver. He was the guy that stole your heart, and smiled as he watched you lay on the ground seconds from death still vying for his affection.  I relived every painful memory as I revisited archived entries of my own diary, which outlined what I had known all along. Mister had never wanted me nor respected me and Mrs., was where is heart was and had always been. He was into me just not that into me I guess. There was no way I could deny my own truth. These were my own words.

 Dear Lovely,                                                                                                                        September 20, 2007

Hey boo.  Shit is getting real out here. I’m done messing with Mister. It’s too early in the game for this bull. Ok so first off he called me today after school, and I was gone wear his jersey to the football game. I’m chiilin at the game when I look up and see this bitch with his name plate on! I’m like what the fuck is wrong with this stupid ass nigga? Why would you have me looking like I’m a part of this bullshit when Im definitely not on that at all. Love, I wish I could say that that’s where it ended, but of course that would be too much like right huh? So it’s after the game and everyone is  at the school so I politely hand him his jersey back and say “ Next time give her the jersey too” and start talking to my other  boo. Next thing I  know  when I start to leave this cat talking about what’s wrong with you? Hmmm I don’t know perhaps the fact that you got me looking thirsty as hell wearing your jersey when this chic had on your name plate. I don’t know maybe I’m just crazy. He says he had to give it to her because she asked. Yea don’t it just sound dumb as hell? I’m through with it all man. I don’t have time for all this childish ass shit. I mean if you want to be with her thirsty ass then be with her.                                                                                               

Dear Lovely                                                                                                                           December 13 2007

 Hey Love a lot has been going on with me. Well about as much as it usually is. You won’t believe what this cat did today though, of course Mister on his usual bull. So he comes up to me today after school all hugged up and cuddling. I come up to this cat half way on it with him and guess what? Just as I’m getting close to him this chic pulls his arm and takes him home after school (lol) no lie. He looked dumb as hell, Man I can’t stand this dude.

Dear Lovely,                                                                                                                       October 2, 2008

I must have a sign that reads “ I specialize in being a idiot: because it’s like this nigga just thinks I’m a damn fool or something. So today I call him asking him what his plans are for the day. He says he will be chilling for the night with his friends, and is going to hit me back. I thought it was a little suspect, but nevertheless I hang up and continue with my day. I come back home and hours later  I pass this chic house and guess who I happen to see in the driveway? (Hmmmmmm… just take a wild guess) Santa Clause you say (lol)? No I see Mister and this chic posted in her driveway like it aint nothing. I’m like damn this is a new low for me I see, but I’m already at the bottom of my  very last nerve so I post up and call this cat. Of course he denies my call. Unbeknownst to him I’m freaking parked right down the street from him watching him ignore my call. (Youngstown is way to small) So I watch as he says his final goodbyes to her, kisses her and gets in his car. Now Love mind you I’m getting front row seats to this whole fiasco. He hops in his car, and this chic hasn’t even made it to her porch yet before he picks up the phone and calls me. He drove right past me and didn’t even know it with his stupid ass. I’m like what’s up? I thought you were going to call me back. He responds Oh yea I got a little caught up with my friends (lol) yes child. I say oh what were you doing when I just called because you usually always answer your phone? Mister says without a hesitation in his voice that he wasn’t by his phone. At this point I was done with playing games with him. I’m like oh really? Are you sure about that? I just saw you in her driveway, and I watched you hang up the phone. I just hung up because he had pissed me all the way off.

 I couldn’t read anymore. The more I read the more I could feel a dual pain in my spirit. It was like an epiphany. Things became much more clairvoyant than they had ever been. Although Mister had committed some horrific atrocities against me I was more responsible in sealing my own unfortunate fate the moment I accepted his disrespect. I’d given him the green light to undermine me and my worth. I had created a competition with the Mrs. that was beyond pathetic. I was owed more than this. I was a queen, at least, that’s what I was told and dammit he was going to treat me as such or I’d find someone who would. I was doing myself a disservice by constantly complaining about a boy who got his kicks from juggling my emotions like it was child’s play.  I knew I had to make a decision to either accept this with no complaints or simply walk away.  It was amusing that I spent so many days writing about Mister’s stupidity while failing to acknowledge my own. Of course he was stupid. He was stupid for thinking that he could have the best of both worlds and gloating when he achieved it. He was stupid when he deciding to inform me of his decision to be with someone else through lies and deception, and a Dear John letter via Myspace. He was stupid for underestimating my worth, but I was far more foolish for not recognizing my own.

It was 2:40 am and by this time my tears were all dried up. I had read through enough passages and I closed my diary. I turned over my phone, which had been on silent as I needed time alone to sort through some things, and I had two missed calls from Mister.

“ I guess Mrs., must have been unavailable,” I thought as I chuckled to myself and turned off the light.

I was only 19-years-old and had not a clue as to what a relationship entailed but I knew whatever I had going on wasn’t it. I couldn’t afford to waste anymore time wondering what Mister was doing, or Myspace stalking him and Mrs. It was time for me to just let it all go and pursue someone who was actually worthwhile. So that’s exactly what I did. I rejected every call from him and it almost killed me not to call after hearing those voicemails but I did it!

In hindsight I think it was kind of funny when I look back and remembered being so envious of Mrs. I would’ve sacrificed my last ounce of pride and dignity just to be in his place, but now I just pity her.  I thought competing with her would make winning Mister’s heart that much sweeter, but no one told me just how cruel the game of love and war would be. My first mistake was allowing myself to become anyone’s option, but my second mistake was showing up to a gun fight with a knife. I was never equipped to compete with the Mrs., because I lacked enough knowledge of my opponent to win such a game. If I would have known from the beginning  that she was spineless and lacked  any sign of a moral compass I would’ve never taken it as far as I had  because that kind of self-hate I didn’t possess. She definitely had me beat in that area. Her willingness to accept any and everything even if that meant ignoring a seemingly quiet love affair between Mister and me made her a far better fighter than I could’ve ever been .She had made peace with that I imagined. The Mrs., had most definitely won the battle, and gotten to call keeps on Mister but winning the heart of a boy that put her through more games than the Olympics leads me believe I lost the best thing I never had!

Mr. and Mrs.: Lovely Secrets

Mr. and Mrs. : Lovely Secrets

 Dear Lovely,                                                                                                      February, 15 2008

 Hey Love what’s up? Nothing much with me just chillen as usual. Well girl you know my life is never without drama. I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about Mister. Yesterday I was on Myspace, and this cat gone get this chic a whole birthday cake dude (like are you serious?). Have I ever gotten a cake, a cupcake, a cookie, a wave, some attention? Nothing, but he can do that for this ugly chic.(Huhhh) I got played for an anorexic …….LOL. OK, I know that was mean, but I’m sayin doe she wack.  She the same girl from down the block. (Wow) I bet she don’t know he still be callin me , and trying to see me doe, but he talking about he just want to be my friend .This nigga silly.

I started my diary the same way for over almost a decade.  Lovely, a college ruled notebook, covered in bright red lip stains, had been there for me through every trial and tribulation I could think of. She did what no one in this world could do for me, which was listen, and never utter a word of judgment. My life story hung on every black line, and I fed Lovely my deepest darkest secrets with zero inhibitions.  I knew she would never divulge anything we ever spoke of like past gossiping ex-friends had. She held my brutally honest perspective. She held my trust.

 The evening of February 15, 2008 was no different than any other night, and Lovely was there, like she always had been, every so subtly assisting me with some of my toughest decisions. I had heard the advice from countless outsiders, some good and some horrible), on what I should do about the Mister situation, yet I was still confused. I wrote diligently hoping to find the answer.

I mean like why do I even care? If he wants her then, hell, he can have that bitch, but he silly as hell cause he steady hittin me up , and trying to kick it while he all cuddled up with her on every picture on Myspace.  Damn, Love, I really love him, but I swear to God I’m not competing with no other female for him. I shouldn’t have to do that. Right?

 Mister and I played a peculiar tango. He would talk to me for hours on the phone ever so gently alluding to sexual innuendos, while simultaneously ignoring his relationship with Mrs. He would keep the conversations very playful for most of the time, telling jokes, and talking about things that really didn’t matter. I don’t know if this was a way to protect my feelings, or to avoid a heated discussion either way it pissed me off.

One of his greatest techniques of distraction was to play off of our similarities. For instance, we both were beyond humorous ( I was actually crowned 2007 class clown of Chaney High school ). I loved to laugh, which is why 75% of the time I was easily distracted by a joke or two. We both fell victims to romantic comedies, and our favorite was the movie Brown  Surgar. The tale of Sydney Shaw (Sanaa Lathan), and Andre Dre Ellis (Taye Diggs) being childhood friends , and eventually falling head over heels through their hip hop connection was my modern-day Romeo and Juliet. In the movie hip hop represented their undying love for one another, and somehow I believed Mister and I would overcome our battle and fall madly in love ( I know I watched way too many romantic comedies).

Mister and I quoted lines from that movie to each other all the time. It wasn’t rare for him to randomly ask me, “So when did you fall in love with hip hop”? My answer was contingent upon my mood. I knew what he was really asking me so if I was upset with him I’d respond with “Oh I never loved hip hop I am more of an R&B type of girl,” or if I happen to be feeling him at the moment  I would say something  like “I have always loved Hip Hop from day one,”.

Mister fascinated me. He clearly wanted to be with Mrs. more than me. Contrary to popular belief I wasn’t completely oblivious to that fact, but yet he seemed to constantly insist he remain in my life. No matter how many times I explained my grievance that were politely ignored he made sure that I was aware that he would not stand for it if I cut the relationship off. Every time I told him I couldn’t go on any longer living this way he pleaded that I readjust my thought process. I was reluctant to leave the situation because I believed that he would eventually see the light.

Why can’t he just be with me? I would be the perfect girl for him. We are like so compatible. He said he loved me? Is she really that much better than me?

It was about 10 o’clock on a Saturday night, and I had just gotten done watching Brown Surgar on BET. I’d seen this movie over a dozen times, and I basically knew every line.  It was the last scene when Syd explained on the radio station how much she was in love with hip hop. Miraculously ‘Dre heard her plea over the airwaves, and came rushing to her immediately, and they were finally together because nothing could keep true love apart.

“Nothing can keep true love apart,”, I thought to myself.

With tears in my eyes I began to call Mister.

“What up Big head,”. He said.

“What you doin,”. I uttered in a low tone trying to mask my tears.

“What’s wrong,”? He asked.

I knew I had to make up a believable lie because he would not stop asking me that if he knew I was crying.

“Oh, I think I’m coming down with something. My throat is a little swollen,”. I said with my fingers crossed hoping he would buy it.

“Oh OK. Hope you ain’t caught nothin from nobody,”. He said followed by a bellowed laughter.

I faked a wonderful laugh, and almost surprised myself at my deception. Little did Mister know I was about to lay it on him. I was about to tell him just like Syd had told Dre that I was in love with him, and had always been. Our love was no coincidence it was fate. I wasn’t supposed to wait for him to make the decision I had to tell him the decision was already made. I was a millisecond away from completely exploding when I saw a tear drop land on a page of my diary, and I read a passage I had written over a year ago.

Dear Lovely,                                                                                                        March   12, 2007

Hey Love. It hurts knowing that he’s not here, but worst when I see him near her. Damn I keep telling myself these feeling are ridiculous.

My tear drop caused the ink to bleed, but the smeared words were as relevant to me now as they had been the year before. I told Mister my mother was on the other line, and I hung up.

Mr. and Mrs.: Lovely Secrets Pt. 2 Coming soon……

6 Pills

6 Pills

I was an 18-year-old outlaw. Up until this moment I hadn’t gotten more than a few detentions for minor infractions, but now I was in the big league sitting tough with the rest of the juvenile delinquents. I had gotten a three day suspension for arguing with my one and only arch enemy Jamice.

For two years Jamice and I were at odds with each other. I used my wit and humor to make fun of her whenever my friends and I passed her in the hall way, and she made sure she did the same. The both of us had Chaney High school divided. We were like the female teen-aged version of Nas and Jay Z, and the day in question was Nas’ release of Either. I had put up with enough.

“So I heard you said….” I said as I marched over to Jamice’s locker with balls of fury in my eyes.

I don’t know who I was that day, but those four words led me into the hot seat, and eventually got me suspended for three days. I was livid.

My great aunt, Patricia, picked me up from school. She didn’t say much after I told her what happen. She kind of grunted, and dropped me off at my grandparent’s house. I had been living with my grandparents my senior year. My mother was in Columbus, and my father lived across town.

I walked into the kitchen, and saw my grandma sitting down peeling potatoes.

“Hey grandma,”.  I said making sure I didn’t make eye contact.

My aunt had obviously informed my grandmother of the news.

“So I heard you got kicked out of school today,”? My grandmother said. “Yea, the girl is crazy, and it wasn’t my fault,”. I replied.

My grandmother, never missing a beat peeling those potatoes, squinted her eyes a bit, and gave me a look that said she had heard that line before.

She didn’t say anything, but I got the point.

I called my mother, and told her the news. She gave me a similar kind of nonchalant, but disappointed reaction.

“You know better than that,”. She said.

I never told my father because, quite frankly, it never crossed my mind to mention it to him. It wouldn’t be the first time he didn’t know something about me, and besides, no one else cared so I figured everything was fine.

I was in day one of my suspension at the mall with friends (I know I really must’ve learned my lesson) when I got a call from my father. Unbeknownst to me my suspension and a few other things had caused a war on the home front.

“Why didn’t you tell me you got suspended,”? He asked.

“ I don’t know,” I replied.“ I didn’t think it was that big of a deal,”.

I answered his questions in a civil manner while I thought “ Umm I didn’t fucking tell you I got suspended because I don’t fucking live with you, Duh. I mean, what were you going to do call my grandparents, and tell them to send me to my room,”.

“You tell me everything else, but you didn’t think to tell me that huh Eartha,”? He asked.

I was silent, but I was extremely agitated. I was at the mall minding my own business, and now this man was bombarding me with such an unnecessary confrontation.

Before I could attempt to pretend like I might come up with an answer for his rhetorical question, my mother beeped in on the other line.

“Eartha,”. She said in a tone that I knew all too well. Someone had really pissed her off, and I hope my dad hadn’t called her and gotten her all riled up when she and I had already made our peace with the situation.

“Yea Ma,”. I said.

“Have you talked to your father,”? She asked.

“Aww, damn he dun got to my mom with this BS,” I thought.

“Yea I talked to him,” I said. I got mentally prepared for war. I was ready to remind my mother that she couldn’t renege on our previous conversation just because my dad had gotten mad. That was just simply unfair.

“Well did he tell you he just cussed me out,”? She asked. “Whhhhhhhhhat,”? I yelped loud enough for everyone in the shoe store to look at me. I wasn’t expecting to hear that.

“Yea, I called him because granddad been complaining about having to take you to work, and he didn’t get the child support check because it doesn’t come the last week of December, and your father made promises he hasn’t been keeping,”. She said.

It was true. My father hadn’t been taking me to work, and I had explained the money situation to my gradmother a few weeks ago, and I thought everything was okay.

“So what did he say to you,”? I asked

“He called me all kinds of names, and left me a long message on my voicemail,”. She said. “He said you hated me,”?

 I could hear the hurt in my mother’s voice even though she tried to hide it.I was disgusted. I couldn’t believe my dad had repeated words I had said two years ago in a fit of rage, depression, and, more importantly, confidence. I never meant for my mother to ever hear those words no matter how mad I got, and now he had just pissed me all the way off.

“How dare he say that to her,”? I thought.

I confronted my dad, and things didn’t end well at all. I vowed I didn’t need him anyways, and his absence there after wouldn’t faze me either.

I got back to my grandparent’s house, and got ready for work. I didn’t mention anything to my grandmother, but I knew I knew the subject would come up soon. I didn’t know sooner would happen so quickly.

My grandfather and I rode up Market Street like we always did in silence when he took me to work, but this time things were a lot tenser. Immediately he let me know why.

“You know everything cost. I am getting older, and I can’t be taking you to work every day. The money didn’t come this week,”. He said.” So what happen,”?

“It doesn’t come on the last week of December,” I said. ( I knew way more about child support than I wanted to)

“Well where is ya dad,? He asked, but I remained silent. “He said he was going to be helping out,”.

“Where is your moma,”? He asked, again I said nothing. “You eat, you wash your clothes, you know all that cost money,”. He said.

I was always afraid of my grandfather, and whenever he yelled at me I drifted into another realm. My body hadn’t moved, but my mind left the moment he uttered “You know everything cost”. I had gone off into a land I hoped I could claim as my own one day. My mind floated to a place where I could possess some peace, and not be talked to like I was the cause of the entire world’s problems, or be questioned about a fucking child support check.

My grandfather was always a stern man, and I felt like he hated me the most out of his grandchildren. I knew it wasn’t his responsibility to allow me to live with him that’s why I worked, and made sure they never had to give me anything extra. I couldn’t be held responsible for broken promises that weren’t kept by father.  No one was asking me how school was, or how my game went.I already felt like a burden, but now I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was. I was embarrassed, and hurt, yet I remained silent.

In front of everyone I was a varsity volleyball athlete, who always had the newest clothes, and shoes. I made sure to smile, and keep a good front when inside I was lifeless. My mother wasn’t there to comfort me, and I wasn’t about to tell my grandma anything. My father was living his picture perfect life on the East side with a new family.

I was too young to have to deal with this shit. I didn’t know what these people wanted from me. I was a good kid, paid room and board, wasn’t pregnant, worked and played sports, but somehow I still felt like that wasn’t enough.

I didn’t eat that night after work. I told my grandma I was too tired, and went to my room. I hit the floor within seconds. My eyes burst with tears that I had held in tight since I had spoken with my grandfather. I was emotionally drained.

“Why do I have to go through this,”? I cried out to God when I saw six pills on my dresser. I don’t know how they got there.

I was done with the façade. I had worn the mask trying to make everyone around me feel comfortable while I chocked on my own silent pleas for help. I didn’t believe my problems were big enough to warrant concern up until now. I gazed at the six anonymous pills, three small white ones, two blue, and one yellow.

“You don’t have to go through this anymore,”. I thought.

I ran to the bathroom and let the faucet run until my plastic cup was full. I caught a glimpse of my reflection, and all I could see was strife. Pain was written all over my face.

I went back into my room, picked up the pills and turned off the lights.

I was petrified, but If I did this quick everything would be over soon.

The pills melted in my hand now soaked from my tears when I swallowed them whole, and followed with a quick gulp of water.

“Forgive me Jesus,”. I said aloud.

I lay on the ground wrapped in a white quilt covered in bold red hearts (it was my favorite) unsure of what I was waiting on. A few minutes later my eyelids got heavier until they were completely closed.

I woke up in the same clothes I had fallen asleep in. It was still dark outside. They were still damp from my tears. I hopped up, turned on my bedroom lights. I frantically looked in the mirror grabbing my face. Besides two swollen eyes, and an allergic reaction from the carpet I looked pretty normal. I felt my chest to see if my heart rate was abnormally beating. It wasn’t. I looked at my alarm clock, and it was 3:30 a.m. Five hours after I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

I got off the floor, and a small grin appeared. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

Childhood Memories: Little girls never forget.. Wedding Bliss

I strolled down the concrete street like any other day coming home from Woodland Elementary school. I knew a few friends, but I always enjoyed the serenity of walking alone up the street to my house. I was only 8-years-old, but I understood the value of quality me time.

I passed the neighbor in the black and white cottage-styled small home. I loved to walk past her, and she if she was tending to her garden or not, usually she was. I heard the echoed voices of children’s laughter, and horns from the countless cars that drove down the street. As I approached my house two seconds later my mother greeted me with an unusual smile on her face.

Either I was in trouble, or she was just weirdly happy today. I had been cursed with women’s intuition even at an early age.

“Hi mommie,” I said.

“Hey, Eartha come sit down I have some good news for you,” she said.

“Your cousin Alicia is getting married, and she wants you to be in her wedding,” my mother said with glee.

“Really?,” I asked. “You sure she really wants me to be in her wedding,”?

“Yea, she really does,” My mother said.

I had never spoken to my mother in detail about how I felt about being in a wedding, but, in my mind, weddings were the equivalent of a little girl’s prom. I was young, but I noticed all the pretty little girls my age were in someone’s wedding as flower girls. I didn’t fully comprehend the value of marriage, but I was smart enough to observe the importance of a wedding. I wanted, so badly, for someone, anyone to consider me beautiful enough to carry their flowers down the aisle on their special day. I was ecstatic, and finally I wasn’t invisible anymore.

“Wow,” I said.

“Yea, Aunt Carol said you are going to hold your cousin Alicia’s wedding dress as she walks down the aisle,” my mother said.

It was a far cry from being a flower girl, but it was something, and I was delighted to be given the privilege to be in my first bridal party.

It was the eve before my cousin’s wedding, and I would bet anything that I was just as excited as she was. My mother had bought me the most gorgeous white two piece ensemble that I’d ever seen. My eyes lit up when she first unraveled it from plastic. The jacket was all white, and completely lace. It had pearl buttons, and was fitted in the waist. The skirt was also remarkable. He was, too, lace and it stopped at my knee.

I told any and everyone I came into contact with that I was going to be in a wedding. It was like I’d been told I was the greatest little girl that had every lived, and now the rest of the world agreed, and no longer did I have to wonder because it was official. I was stunning.

The Wedding day

I was up by the crack of dawn. I woke everyone in my grandparents’ house up. I don’t know why everyone was so sleepy anyway. “Didn’t they know there would be a wedding today,”? I thought.

 I ate a full breakfast, but didn’t get my usual seconds because I didn’t want to be too full. I had a big day ahead of me. I showered, and began getting ready.

 I felt like a solider being dressed in his uniform for the first time when my mother put on my suit. It was like the old Eartha didn’t exist anymore. I was something new, something gorgeous.  I was something to be adorned.

 My great aunt came by to put the finishing touches on my hair. My head still hurt form the burns of the straightening comb from the previous night, but I still made sure I slept like a perfect angel so there wouldn’t be a strand of hair out of place.

Fumes of burnt hair accented my grandmother’s kitchen, but I was finally complete. I had my curls, my outfit, and my mother even let me put on red lipstick. The only thing that was missing was my glass slippers, and my fairy godmother, but I imagined I would have even given Cinderella a run for her money that day.

 I looked in the mirror, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was something like amazing.

“I am pretty,” I thought to myself still unable to actually verbalize it.

I took a few pictures with my mom, and my grandmother, and we headed to the church. I didn’t know how this day could get any better.

I walked into the white building trimed in gold gripping my mother’s hand. I quickly scanned the place in search of my cousin Alicia. We both had something to be happy about today, and I hadn’t gotten the opportunity to even thank her for asking me to be in the wedding, after all.

My mother, and I looked for her a minute or two, but we couldn’t seem to find her.

I assumed she was far too busy getting ready to be bothered so I sat in the hallway in the church when a few seconds later I saw my cousin LM. She was the epitome of pretty, which was nothing new. Her hair was tied up  in a curly pony-tail, and she had on a ruffled white dress with a pink ribbon around her waist. She skipped through the church holding a bouquet of white lilies.

“She was the flower girl,”. I thought to myself.

LM was always in someone’s wedding. She was perfect and flawless. Because we were exactly the same age I always felt like I was always in direct competition with her and no matter how I tried she always won. She had better clothes, better hair, and my family just seemed to generally like her more. I knew there was no comparison. LM was just better by far.

I could feel my entire body tense up as she skipped closer, and closer to me without a care in the world. Jealously enthralled my body, once again I had come into second place to her. She was the flower girl that everyone would gaze in awe over, while I hung in the back like a second-class citizen holding on to the back of my cousin’s down like a simple peasant. I couldn’t help, but feel like shit.

“Hi Eartha,”. She said, but before I could respond someone grabbed my arm, and I could hear yelling.

“Eartha get your coat,”. My mother screamed. “We are leaving,”.

I didn’t know what was going on. Why were we leaving, and why was my mother screaming and embarrassing me? I didn’t want to leave. Sure I hadn’t gotten the best seat in the house, but it was still a seat. I had come all the way from Mansfield to Youngstown to be in this wedding.

“Eartha sorry, but apparently you ain’t good enough to be in this damn wedding,”! My mother blurted out as family members, and strangers began staring at her.

We were standing in the middle of the doorway at this point, and everyone was looking at my mother, and I. I didn’t understand what was going on, but her words pierced my insides like  Swiss army knives.

I felt my entire body go numb. My little feet ran as fast as they could across the burgundy carpet into the bathroom as tears soaked my eyes. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Where was my cousin Alicia,”? I thought. “

Swoosh. The bathroom door flung open quickly, and I was greeted by about five women covered in elegant white dresses with flowers, and bows in their hand .I looked to the right , and there stood my cousin Alicia dressed and covered in all white, and diamonds. She illuminated the room, but her face didn’t match the occasion. No one’s face did, for that matter. There was a cold stillness in the room. The kind of awkwardness that is present when you walk into a room where people were just talking bad about you. For some reason, I felt ashamed. I looked at my cousin Alicia with pleading and teary eyes. I knew she wanted me in the wedding.

Before Alicia could mum a word to me I felt someone clinch my chin with cold hands. My tears dripped in between my cousin Tamia’s   thumb and forefinger as she proceeded to twist my head in the direction she was standing. She crouched low to get to my level, and was about less than an inch from my face when she uttered a sentence that left imprints on my soul like feet in the sand. It was a sentence I will never forget.

“Eartha, stop crying this is all your fault,”. She said.

I  felt like I was a deer  surrounded by a circle of wolves in the wild. I felt like I had committed the worst atrocity known to man, and they all were seconds away from stoning me. The only problem was that I didn’t have a clue as to what I had done. I was devastated. I didn’t understand anything that was happening. I just wanted to leave.

I ran out the door screaming and crying. I just wanted to find my mother and get the heck out of that sanctuary. These people were cruel, and whether they realized it, or not, they had just completely demolished an 8-year-old’s self esteem, which already hung by a thin, and fragile thread.

I could still hear my mother yelling, and cursing out anyone who would listen. I nudged her towards the door hoping we could just leave. I was crying so hard my beautiful white lace ensemble looked more like a used dishrag.

We proceed to walk to my grandparent’s house, which was only a block away when my uncle stopped us.

“Come on Sheila, don’t go,”. He said.

I really loved my uncle, but I couldn’t have disagreed with him more. Those people in that building of God, were acting more like demons, and I just wanted to run away from it all.

“Don’t listen to him Sheila,” I thought.

She turned around, and I wanted to die. We were almost home free.

My uncle escorted my mother and I back into the church. It felt like leading us right into the pit of hell. People were staring at us like we were common criminals.

At this point it didn’t matter what happened. The damage was already done. I didn’t feel beautiful anymore, and I’d wished I could go back to simply being invisible.

No one ever explained to me what transpired that day, and I never spoke to either cousin about how their actions murdered my self esteem.  Everyone seemed to keep going through the motions as if nothing had happened. I sat in the back of the church on a wooden chair with eyes as red as cherries, and extremely swollen. I was delirious, and as my cousin said her vows, I too, made a silent promise to myself that I would never be in anyone’s wedding ever again.

Mr. and Mrs. Pt.4: Reminiscing

Thump. Thump. Thump. My foot tapped on Ce Ce’s sandy- colored hardwood floor. I chewed on the top of a black pen, while I sat glaring at her Dell computer screen contemplating what I was before my eyes.

“Can we still be friends,”? I read in my head.

I thought about deleting the message without reading it. Mister was the most bold and arrogant he had ever been. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to even contact me, let alone ask such a ridiculous question, after he watched me lay down every ounce of myself to him. I showed every emotion brewing within my soul in that driveway the night before, and he was silent, but now he wanted to communicate over the internet. Now the words that had temporary paralyzed his tongue had mysteriously resurfaced, and he was compelled to tell me something that was supposed to ease my troubles.

My integrity, pride and self –will and esteem were all forfeited about six months after the basement party incident. I had nothing left, but an aching, yet dull pain that lay dormant until I saw him and her together. He’d taken me way past embarrassment and way past anger. I was lost. I figured I had nothing to lose or gain. He couldn’t take anything that he hadn’t already robbed me of. I was working off of pure curiosity so I decided to just opened the message.

Can we still be cool? We dun been through too much, and I’ve known you for too long. We always been cool, and don’t listen to your friends ‘cause I know they all in your ear.

The only thing I was grateful for was that he hadn’t apologized. For some odd reason that is what stood out the most in my mind. I was just happy that he didn’t apologize for doing what he always wanted to anyways. The message was already an insult, in itself, but an apology might have driven me to show up to his house, and wreak havoc.

Ce Ce was on the opposite side of her room talking to one of her many suitors. Everyone knew she had a main, yet boys lined up to play boyfriend No. 2 for her like it was a badge of honor. I didn’t know what drug she was selling to these teen-aged junkies, but I know I wanted whatever she had

 “So Mister wanna know if we can still be friends Ce Ce,”. I said.

“What,”? She yelped.

“He just sent me a message asking if we could still be friends because we have been through too much,”. I explained.

“Is this fool out of his damn mind? He gone play you for that bucket-head greyhound dog lookin chic, and then ask can we still be friends”? She questioned.

“I don’t know,”. I said. “I can’t believe he would just come at me like that,”.

“Be friends. Be friends. Ain’t nobody trying to be his friend,”. I said.

“Right. Because if he sure didn’t look like he was ya friend last night,”. She said.” Standin there lookin stupid as hell,”.

Mister was right though. We had been through a lot together. Things were clearly not good at this point, but I had fallen for the better half of him, and although he had morphed into a professional moronic narcissistic ass hole, somehow I couldn’t forget about those better days.  I couldn’t help, but reminisce about when he used to call me every night. I missed the charming mister, who almost broke his neck running to me after he caught me crying in senior home room. I wanted to get to know the dude with the sense of humor, who met me in between classes in the hallways to cuddle. I missed that guy, and I was desperately wishing for his return to glory.

Smack! My day dreams were interrupted as I fell to the floor. Ce Ce’s computer chair was a dinky unreliable appliance that I warned her would hurt someone one day. Of course, that person had to be me.

Ce Ce laughed at me, and dammit I had to laugh at myself too. My only alternative on the eve of such a horrible night  was to cry.

“Throw that damn chair away,”. I said. I dusted myself off and sat on her bed.

“What I tell you last time you said that? I will, as soon as you give me the money to buy a new one,”. Ce Ce said.

We laughed. We talked, and I tried to keep my mind off Mister. He had taken more of my time and energy than I would have liked these past two days, and I needed a break for a second to rejuvenate myself. I needed a distraction, and lord knows my best friend was great in that area.

 I was going to write Mister back, but he would have to wait until I felt like it. It wasn’t like I didn’t have plenty of others I could have pursued. I needed to dust off that black book. It was time to go to work.