If you’re lookin’ for a classic success story, then you better just stop readin’ now, ‘cause this shit’ll make you cry. I can’t tell you my life was always good because it wasn’t. There really ain’t much good to find in turnin’ tricks at twelve. I ain’t tellin’ you because I want you to feel sorry for me. But the more you listen to my story, the more you’ll know that I didn’t have no choice. Like I said, if you want the success story, this one ain’t it. But for those that just wanna know the truth, here it is.
I was born Jacqueline Josephine Harris in St. Louis, Missouri. Now, by the time I came along, women could vote and liquor laws had changed. But I was born smack dab in the middle of The Depression. So needless to say, most of my life, I ain’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out. I never knew much about my daddy ‘cept that he was a white man from Tennessee and that it was all ‘cause of him that I was short and light skinned. My mama told me his name was Thomas Clyde and that he left town ‘fo I was born. So, all I had was Mama and Big Mama to raise me up.
When I was six years old, Big Mama passed and left me and Mama the house. We always did the best we could but nothin’ ever seemed like enough. Some days, Mama would dress me up and send me into town to get food. People would walk by, pat me on the head, and give me food on the count of I looked like a lil’ white child in they eyes. I usually could get enough to feed me and Mama for two or three days. On the days in between we just went hungry. Though Mama’s stomach was hungry and achin’, her heart was heavy and full. At night, I would hear her cryin’ and asking God why he meant for her and her baby to starve to death.
One day, Mama called me to her bedside and told me to sit down. “Jacqui,” she said, “Mama so sorry. I’m sorry for not bein’ able to take care of you the way I want to. I worked hard all my life and after all this time, all I can give you is my love. It makes me feel real bad. But you can’t do like I did. I want you to marry you a man what can take care of you. You can’t die old and alone like me. Promise Mama that you gon’ die with a dream on yo’ mind and some change in yo’ pocket.” I nodded. “I promise,” I said. I guess that was all she needed to hear because after that, Mama smiled at me, closed her eyes, and took her last breath. I heeded every word Mama said that day. And even though I didn’t do it the way she mighta thought I would, I kept the promise I made to her that day. Alone, cold, and broke, I vowed to never let my mama down.
*
Since Mama didn’t have no family to speak of and I didn’t have her and Big Mama to look after me no more, life got a lil’ harder. Before, I could go into town and get food on the count of looking like a white girl, now I just got funny looks ‘cause I just looked like a peeled peach that had been rolled in the dirt.
One day, I ducked into Johnson’s General Store to escape the burning summer sun. I walked around the store running my hands along the snacks, listening to the melody of hunger that played against my ribs. I tried to use my imagination to fill my rumbling belly. I imagined the peppermints sticks melting in my mouth and the soda water fizzing on my tongue. Whoever said imagination did diddley squat for a child must not’ve had a hungry one in mind. I was standing over by the penny candy when a scary looking white man walked up to me. He was at least three feet taller than I was and he had a thick black moustache and caterpillar eyebrows that matched.
“If you ain’t got no money, I ain’t got nothin’ for you,” he barked.
Now I don’t know if I looked it or not, but I was awful scared. My mama had raised me with a sharp tongue, but I couldn’t get up the courage to argue. I just stood there, froze.
“Hush up, Fool,“ I heard a voice say, “My brother helped you build this place and if it wasn’t for him hushin’ up about you bein’ a white man who couldn’t pay a black man to build him a sto’, yo’ name woulda been messed up all over this town.”
I turned to see a pretty black woman in a purple dress and black high heels. She wore a purple feather in her curly hair and carried matching fan. She looked like she couldn’ta been no more than twenty-one. But boy, was she pretty. Me and the man that couldn’ta been nobody but Mr. Johnson stood there with our eyes fixed on her. She walked over to me, smelling like perfume a rich woman would wear.
“Now,” she said placing a gloved hand on my shoulder, “You give this baby whatever she wants.”
Something about this woman must have scared Old Man Johnson because he backed up off me and walked behind the cash register to wait for me to get through shopping. She walked behind me smiling and I couldn’t tell if she was smiling at me or if she was just proud that she had done told off Johnson. I didn’t care, though. She had a nice smile and I was glad she was showing it to me. I walked up to the counter with a bag full of penny candy, peppermint sticks, crackers, soda and bubble gum. Mr. Johnson counted them and the lady with the nice smile paid for it all.
“Have a nice day, Mr. Johnson,” she mocked.
When we stepped outside, the sun hit us both in the face. The lady pulled out a ruffled parasol I had not seen before and held it over both of us. “What’s yo’ name, Baby,” she said with a sweet southern drawl.
“Jacqueline Josephine Harris,” I said.
I had never seen nobody look so impressed just ‘cause I said my name, but the lady said, “Well! Go right ahead Miss Jacqueline Josephine Harris! That’s a pretty name!” I started to feel proud just ‘cause my mama had named me that. After she wasn’t tickled pink no more, she said, “Well Miss Jackie, my name is Naomi East. But everybody calls me Suga Mama Mae.” I didn’t ask the question, but I reckon folks called her Suga Mama because her perfume smelled so sweet. It dawned on me that we was walking, but I didn’t have no idea where I was goin’. When we got a few more steps toward nowhere, Mae said, “So, where yo’ mammy at?” I knew she was gon’ ask, but I didn’t know what I was gon’ say.
“She dead”.
Before I even knew it, the words just flew out of my mouth. The lady squinted at me. “Well, ain’t you got no pappy?”
I shook my head hard. “I ain’t never met him.”
“Ain’t you got no place to go,” she said.
“No’m, I ain’t.”
She smiled. “Well, I tell you what. Come home with me. I always have a house full. We can have a lot of fun. You want to?”
My chest swelled with excitement. I hadn’t felt that good since I sat on Big Mama’s lap and listened to her sing hymns and run her fingers through my hair. There had only been two times in my life that I had been speechless-when I stood in Old Man’s Johnson’s store and the moment I stood in right then................
