T'mara has done it again! Enjoy the read! For more from T'mara click HERE.
DISCLOSURE ©
by T'mara
Bae,
I’m still trippin off the fight we had last night. I can’t get the image of how red yo eyes were from crying outta my mind, ‘cause it really do hurt me to see you hurt. I told you ova and ova how sorry I am, but I guess that don’t really matter ‘less I explain why. You really do deserve to know why I never said those words to you. Why I can hear them come outta yo mouth every day and still not say a word. The truth is, in my life, those words haven’t meant shit to me. They lost their power a long time ago.
The first person to ever say those words to me was my mama. When I was young it was just me and her. She had me when she was fourteen and since didn’t no body wanna have nothin to do with her and no baby she moved from Louisiana to Texas to live with my great grandmother. We only lived there till I was three ‘cause big mama died, so mama had to start taking care us herself. For her that meant dancing at the butt naked.
She did that for a long time and when I was around seven she started takin me to the club with her at night so she didn’t have to pay for no baby sitter. I would sit in the booth with the DJ and every twenty or thirty minutes mama would come over there and dump piles of wadded up bills in my lap, kiss me, tell me she love me, then go back to work. I spent my nights neatly stacking that money for her. I made sure the bills were in order with the ones on top and they always had to face the same direction. Second grade didn’t have shit on what I learned at that club. But, the one thing I knew the best was that my mama loved me ‘cause she would always stop what she was doing to come where I was to tell me.
I remember mama used to dress me like a boy ‘cause she didn’t want them nasty ass men gettin hold of me. That was fine with me, though, ‘cause I didn’t wanna be no girl anyway. After all I had seen in the club I knew by the time I was eight that I wanted to be like them men and not them women. I wanted to be the one with the money ‘cause being the man with the money meant that I could get whatever the hell I wanted. The men with the money got served drinks and steak dinners. The men with the money got women dancing for them and making them feel good. The men with the money got my mama to sit me in chairs in the corner of motel rooms with my back turned while they fucked her. It’s funny how a lot of them men used to tell my mama how they loved her when they was in there fuckin, but as soon as we was outta that motel room they would treat her like trash.
I remember the one that ended up killin her used to tell her he loved her all the time. Hell, he used to say to me how much he loved him some Kandi. One night he took her to a motel room and they sat me in the corner as usual while they fucked. I knew he was drunker than usual and probably high, but I didn’t think nothing of it ‘cause, shit, they all stayed drunk and high. Everything seemed normal for a while. I could hear the bed moving and I could hear him whispering I love you over and over again. Then I realized I didn’t hear mama making her usual sounds. She was making sounds, but these were different. It sounded like she was choking. By the time he was nuttin I got the balls to turn around and look and saw him on top of her with both hands around her throat. His head was thrown back and his eyes were closed so he didn’t even realize she passed out. When he finally did look down at her and seen that she wasn’t conscious he jumped his ass up, got dressed and ran outta that room leaving the Kandi he loved so much there to die.
I was scared as hell and didn’t know what to do. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion after he left. I remember picking up the phone next to the bed and calling 911. I told them my name, her name, the name of the motel, and the room number cause that’s what she taught me to do. The lady on the phone asked me if she was breathing so I put the phone down to check. I sat down on the side of the bed close to her and she opened her eyes halfway and looked at me. She smiled this weak smile, told me she loved me, then closed her eyes again. I picked the phone back up and told the lady she was gone. The only person to ever tell me they love me left me.
After that I went from foster home to foster home, neva staying at a home more than a year. Every time I got placed in a new home it always started out ok. They all would tell me how happy they were to have me there and how they would give me the love that I needed. But, I would always end up either getting kicked out or running away ‘cause nobody could understand why I didn’t understand that I was a girl and not a boy. They didn’t want no dyke in they house so I would end up gettin abused or kicked to the curb.
The last time I was in a foster home I was fifteen. I had been there about a year and everything was cool. I was already out and the couple didn’t really like it, but they didn’t give me too much shit about it. I didn’t give them any problems and that government check was never late so they just dealt with it as long as I didn’t bring no other dykes to they house. They told me that God loved me so they loved me too. As a matter of fact, they made it a point to pray over me every night and tell me how much they loved me. One night they came in my room and prayed and left, but ‘ole dude came back about an hour later and said he felt the need to pray for me some more. He said that the spirit of homosexuality was gonna kill me and that I was only gonna be loosed from it if I stepped into a real woman’s place. So, he climbed on top of me and put me in my place while he prayed and told me he loved me.
Before the sun came up I left and since then I have been on my grind doing what I gotta do to take care of me. And now that you’re in my life I do what I gotta to take care of us. And don’t think I told you all this shit so you can feel sorry for me ‘cause I didn’t. I just want you to understand why those words, that word, is so hard for me to say. I owe you that. And although I don’t say it, I really do care about you. Really it’s so much deeper than that. You are tattooed on my spirit, girl. You are my life. You are the one person since my mama that I can truly say has my back and is down for me no matter what. So, everything I do I do to keep you safe and happy ‘cause you make me happy. I’ll make sure you’ll never want for nothing and I’ll make sure nobody ever fucks with you. That’s my word.
After you went to sleep last night I stayed up and stared at you sleepin. I watched you breathe and thanked God for every breath you took. I kept playin the fight over and over in my head and kept hearin you tell me that showing you how I feel is all well and good, but you need to hear it sometimes. I felt like a dumb fuck ‘cause I can’t give you what seems like such a simple thing to most people. I felt stupid for letting it hurt you, but I can’t help it.
I wish we can come up with our own word. A word that means somethin only to me and you. Somethin that I can say to you so that you can be sure how I feel and never have doubts. ‘Cause, bae, you should never doubt. This here is the truth.
Always,
Your Studsband