The Birthday Gift

There was a dry lump stuck in the back of my throat. I swallowed past it.

"Where's Dad?"

She raised a brow and I noticed surprise on her face before she masked it.

"Your father died seven years ago."

Thank God. I caught myself, hoping I hadn't said it aloud. I realized, considering she didn't toss me out, that I hadn't. I cannot begin to explain the relief that spread through me at the thought that I would never have to see that man again. It would also explain why things looked so grim around here. No matter what job my mother had taken on, I doubt she could pay for the taxes and the upkeep on this place. And I had no idea if they still had a mortgage to pay. After the relief ran its course, I turned back to face my mother. This cold, withdrawn woman who had treated me like a home wrecker before I left. This woman who had let my father rape me night after night. I turned to her with the speech I had rehearsed for many years...

But suddenly it didn't seem worth the effort. At least not today. I was tired. My adrenaline rush was winding down and I could feel myself about to crash.

"I'll pay you $100 a week. Is the half bath down there still working?"

She nodded. The half bath in the basement had a tub and a toilet. I'd always wondered why they opted for a tub instead of a sink, but it would be perfect for me now. Tomorrow, I would buy a microwave and a little fridge. If I had my way, my mother wouldn't really know I was living here. I pulled some money from my back pocket (the rest of the money was hidden in my sneaker) and peeled off four bills. Four weeks of rent. She took the money without meeting my eyes. I stepped past her into the kitchen and opened the door leading down to the basement. In the back corner, past the ancient washer and dryer, was a little area set up like a mini-bedroom. He used to bring me down here sometimes, especially when he wanted to force himself into my bottom. The heating unit alone made so much noise, people upstairs could hardly hear what was taking place down here. I shook the memories away, stripping the old linen off the full-size bed and flipping the mattress. I sank down onto the bare mattress, fully clothed, and closed my eyes. I was asleep before I realized it.

The next morning, after I'd slept for a full 13 hours and then showered for what seemed like an eternity, I made my way upstairs with trepidation, hoping my mother was on the second floor in her bedroom. Turns out the house was empty. I made some eggs and poured a little orange juice, making a mental note to replace what I'd used, and settled down to watch television. It was then I saw her note taped to the television screen. She'd left me my father's old Ford Taurus if I needed to go out. One problem solved.

I spent the first few hours of that day in Walmart. I bought a microwave, a tiny little portable DVD player, some movies, towels, linen, some undergarments, a couple pair of jeans, a few tee shirts, another pair of cheap sneakers, some toiletries and a half dozen trashy paperback novels. I then went to a grocery store, replacing the eggs and juice I'd consumed that morning and buying a few items for myself. Next, I visited Sprint and bought a pre-paid cell phone. Once I was back in my parents' home, I used my new cell phone to call Sears and order the cheapest refrigerator they had. It would be delivered the next morning.

I then set about tracking down cleaning supplies so I could clean up my area. I swept, mopped, wiped the walls down and dusted everything I could see. Once I was done with my chores, I did something I hadn't been able to do in a long time. I took another long, hot shower, snuggled beneath my newly purchased comforter, and read a trashy novel. It was like spoiling myself with horribly expensive chocolates, or taking the longest, hottest, sweetest bubble bath...it was heaven for a few short hours. And it felt damn good.

Just as I'd hoped, my mother and I hardly saw each other. I'd been there for a few days, following pretty much the same routine, when I realized she must have a job. She left the house every morning at 6am, slamming the screen door in a way that was sure to jar me from sleep. I had no idea if she was being a bitch, or if she'd just gotten used to living alone and no longer thought about. I didn't really care. I was relatively safe, warm, well rested and off my back. For the first time in years, I didn't answer to anyone but myself. It was a strange feeling, but I was starting to like it.

Toward the end of that first week, I visited the Division of Vital Records and requested a new birth certificate and social security card. It was a little tricky, considering I didn't have any identification, but they stuck me on a computer, something I hadn't used in years, which took me through a series of personal questions until I successfully ordered the documents. I knew it would be impossible to get a job without some type of identification. When I'd left home, I'd had none.

On the way back to my parents' home, I stopped to apply for jobs at many of the stores I'd past when I walked home from the bus station that first day.

I managed to get a job at Target near the end of the second week. I worked in the concession area. Nothing too complex, I just served hot dogs, pop corn, ice cream, chips and soda. I was assigned the late night shift (as if that was a problem) three days a week and every weekend. The job paid me $9 an hour. After my first weekend, I wondered why I was opting to stand on my feet for customers and earn $54 per shift instead of lying on my back for customers and earning at least $250 per shift. But when I reminded myself that no one would rob, beat, rape or degrade me during my shift at Target, I remembered why I was doing it.

I was getting a little tired of washing the smell of popcorn out of my hair every night, but things were okay. I'd been away from "the life" for about a month when I paid my mother rent for another four weeks, adding an extra two hundred dollars so I could contribute to the cost of the electric and water bills. For the first time in a long time, I was feeling somewhat normal. It was amazing that it only took a month. I still had nightmares, of course, and I continually worried about Darnell tracking me down (I still had $1,500 of his money stashed away), but I was starting to feel like a regular working Joe (or Jane).

I slept late most mornings (I'd bought a better mattress, one that was soft, comfortable and made leaving my bed very difficult sometimes). I lived off of breakfast cereal, frozen dinners, cold cuts and peanut butter & jelly. I read fictional novels as if I they were going out of style, anything from mysteries to thrillers to romance novels. It was a luxury I had been denied for far too long. And I watched DVDs on my tiny DVD player. I had a rather nice collection of movies considering I was given 30% off at Target. My favorites were suspenseful mysteries and action/adventure.

My discount at the store also allowed me to buy more clothes, and soon I was forced to purchase a few plastic 3-drawer chests so I could keep my clothes somewhere other than the chair where they were piling up. I had removed the bandage from my nose quite some time ago, but the bruises were slow to fade. However, the light purplish bruises around my eyes now made me look like I simply needed sleep instead of like someone who had the shit beaten out of her. In another few weeks, the bruises would be gone entirely.

The relationship with my mother had not improved. In fact, I tried very hard to avoid her and we had exchanged only a few, relatively polite words since she'd called me a whore that first day. I wasn't really looking to build (or rebuild?) a relationship with her. I'm not sure I ever had a strong attachment to her. For now, landlord and tenant seemed to be the best relationship for us, and that suited me just fine.

I was also thinking about taking the GED exam. I'd bought a study guide for it and had been told by the local librarian that I could take the exam online, at the library, whenever I was ready. If I passed the exam, I was seriously thinking about enrolling in a college course, just for fun. I wasn't sure I was college material, but I suddenly wanted to find out. Like I said, my life was starting to feel really normal.

"Rayn?!"

I was refilling the popcorn machine when I heard the rather loud squeal. I turned, stared for a moment, and then smiled. Deborah. Deborah Schloss. We used to call her Dee Dee. She had been one of my friends in elementary and middle school.

"Hey Deborah."

She squealed again and I remembered why we called her Dee Dee. She was always so bubbly, with her curly, blonde hair, cornflower blue eyes and shapely, compact little figure. Even at 30, she was still 'cute.' I could easily see her with pom-poms, something I'd probably missed in high school.

"Oh my gawd! I heard you were back in town, but just look at you!! Where the hell have you been? God, it's been years!"

She "heard" I was back? I guess even with its new malls and larger population, Stroudsburg was still a small town.

"I went to stay with family in New York. The schools were better out there," I lied. It was a better story than the truth.

"Wow, you just disappeared one day! And your parents didn't say a word! And you're still gorgeous. You said the schools were better? I think Kenny saw you the other day here and told everyone. We still all talk to each other, even with our jobs and kids and all that jazz. God, I always thought you were gorgeous and you're still gorgeous!"

She took a breath and I just waited.

"I have to go, but we're getting together tomorrow night. Are you working? Me, Jennie, Kathryn and Laura. You remember them, right? They'd love to see you. We'll be at The Canteen. Remember where that is? That old bar is still there. We all leave everything behind and meet there every other Thursday night. You should come! Are you working? If you're not working, you should come, okay? Okay, I have to go, bye!"

Her departure was like air leaving a balloon. She'd only spoken with me for a few minutes and I felt almost completely deflated. A part of me was tempted to meet them at the bar. I knew it well. It was a long time hang-out for the young people in the area. But another part of me knew that only a person who had been shipped off to a better school in New York could go to that bar and have a good time. That was not my reality.

The rest of my shift was uneventful, thank goodness. The job really was pretty easy, especially during the week when not many people went shopping after eight. As long as I remembered to wear comfortable shoes with my red polo shirt and tan khakis, I was okay. It was amazing that even in such dour clothes, and with my hair pulled back into a simply pony tail, I could not seem hide my physical assets. More than a few men, whether they were with their female partners or not, had been caught staring at my full breasts, curvy hips and nicely rounded bottom. I sighed, some things will never change, I figured. I finished cleaning up, turning out the lights and making my way to the office to swipe out. I waved as others wished me goodnight, not sure if I knew their names, not sure I cared. I was searching for the car keys in the small, cute casual purse I'd bought on sale last week when I realized someone was standing near my father's car. The person, who was a least six feet tall, turned as I reached the car and my steps faltered, my breath catching in my throat.

"Heard you were back."

I'd dreamt of that husky voice, that amazing body and dark chocolate skin...and now here was the entire package, standing beside my father's car at 11:30pm at night. I looked up into those intense hazel-green eyes, swallowing, trying to think of something to say. Nothing witty came to mind. Just flashes of us, sitting in her car in the rain, so many years ago...and then flashes of us sitting in her hotel room about two months ago. I swallowed again before I could speak.

"Hey Vic."

There was the slow, casual smile that used to send my heart fluttering when I was in high school. It still worked apparently.

"Do I get any of the credit for your return to Stroudsburg?" She asked.

I smiled a little, "I guess. Does it matter?"

Vic shook her head, "not really, I'm just—"

I looked up again when she stopped mid-sentence. The smile was gone.

"Who the fuck broke your nose?"

I swore to myself. Leave it to this woman to notice bruises that were all but gone and the slightly crooked bump on my nose.

"Does it matter?"

Something crossed her mind and almost made it past her lips, but she swallowed it down. I waited patiently.

"The mayor's having a ball tomorrow night. Will you come with me?"

Shock registered on my face. What had she just asked me? She wanted me to accompany her to a ball? Was she nuts?

"Vic, uh," I walked past her and unlocked the car door. "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't have anything to wear. Besides, are you sure you want to bring a girl as your date in this town?"

She reached out to hand me a business card. It was to a dress shop not far from Target. I remembered many of the girls in town used to get their prom dresses there.

"She'll fix you up. And you have an appointment with Shirley next door, the only decent hair dresser in this damn place."

"B-but," I sputtered. "I have to work tomorrow night."

She raised a brow and then showed me that slow, intoxicating smile again.

"No you don't, I already asked Jessie."

The store manager, damn. She had me. I sighed, "Vic, I'm not ready for that kind of thing. And you didn't answer my question about the gay thing."

"No one even knows where you were Rayn. And everyone already knows I'm a big ol' dyke. So come with me, okay?"

I sighed, sliding behind the wheel. I attempted to close the door, but she held it open.

"Pretty please, Rayn." She asked in that damn sexy voice of hers.

I sighed again, "fine Vic. What time?"

She smiled, satisfied. "I'll send a car to pick you up at 7."

She was gone before I had time to balk. The Mayor's ball? With a woman no less? What the hell was I thinking?

The next day I headed to the dress shop at 2pm, the time noted on the card. The woman behind the counter smiled and I realized I knew her. I'd forgotten her mother owned the shop. She was probably working for her mother...or maybe she owned the shop now.

"Hey Rayn, how's it going?"

I smiled, shrugging. "Not bad Cindy, not bad. Uh, Vic, I mean Victoria—"

"Oh, don't worry, I know why you're here. Let's get started, okay? I already put a few things in the dressing room for you, let's see if you like any of them."

That's how it started. I was there for two hours as she not only found me a dress, but the proper undergarments, shoes and a hand bag. She refused to tell me how much anything cost, informing me that Vic had already taken care of the bill. She packed everything up for me and told me to pick it up when I was done at Shirley's next door. So, I sighed and went next door. Shirley was the only African American hair dresser in Stroudsburg. So, it stood to reason that as the population exploded, and diversified, her business started booming. But she had evidently carved out some time for me. She was waiting for me when I stepped through the door.

"Raynata, right? How are you? Come on back and let's get started, we don't have much time."

Another two hours as she washed, trimmed, blow dried and styled my hair into a beautiful chignon. Then she gave me a manicure and did my make-up. Subtle, soft browns and deep reds. When I glanced in the mirror, I was quite impressed with the results. It was my face, the creamy, butterscotch skin, the deep, dark brown eyes, the thick, dark lashes, the full, pouting lips, but it was softer, a little older...and sexier to be honest. I smiled, thanking her. I went next door to grab my packages and then I hurried to my father's car, rushing home. It was already 6:15 and I still needed to take a shower. I had to be careful, considering the hair and make-up. Shirley had warned me to make the shower as cool as possible so that I didn't ruin my hair. It felt like it took forever to pull on all the different parts of my outfit, including the garter, real silk stockings, a new strapless bra that cupped and lifted my full breasts nicely, and then the dress. The dress was gorgeous. A warm, cinnamon brown that really complimented my face and dark brown eyes. She told me it was a designer's original. It had spaghetti straps and clung to my full, curvy figure like a glove. The silk stockings, with seams up that back, and the matching pumps complemented the outfit nicely. I smiled as I spun around in the full-length mirror I'd bought for $10 two weeks ago. When I glanced at the clock near my bed, I realized I had about five minutes to spare. I turned off the lights and made my way up the stairs.

My mother was sitting in the living room watching television.

"Where are you going?" She asked, staring at me, her brow raised.

"Someone invited me to the Mayor's Ball." I answered, not sure why I told her. I think I wanted her to know I wasn't doing anything wrong. That I was going some place respectable.

"Well, since he can afford that, you can probably up your price tonight." She bit out before returning her gaze to the television set.

I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded. Hurt. Angry. There was a rage boiling up inside of me, but I swallowed it down. What would be the point? At that moment, I heard a horn honk outside and I turned to leave without another word.

Indeed she had sent a car. A shiny, black Mercedes Benz SUV, with dark tinted windows. Impressive to say the least. I was about to reach for the door handle when the door opened from the inside. Vic unfolded her six-foot frame from the confines of the car, straightening her jacket. She was more impressive than the Mercedes in her obviously expensive, perfectly tailored black tuxedo. She took the time to look me over until I blushed and then whistled softly, "wow." Then she bowed at the waist.

"Your chariot, my lady."

I smiled at the goofy performance before sliding into the car. She followed suit, closing the door behind her. A moment later, the car pulled off. I gave her a once over, nodding with approval.

"You're wearing a tuxedo and taking a woman as your date. I guess you're not afraid of pissing off the mayor." I joked.

"Uh, she gave birth to me. I think she's used to my shit by now."

I was stunned into silence for a moment. "Your mother's the mayor?" I asked with disbelief. But why was I surprised? Her father had been in politics for eons. And her mother had always been careful to join the right social clubs and sit on the right committees. It made perfectly logical sense.

"Yup. This is her second term."

I was impressed. I'd never met anyone whose mother was a mayor.

"And your Dad? Is he still with the State Senate?"

She at least knew to look a little embarrassed. "No, uh, he's a U.S. Senator now."

I blinked. There was nothing else to say. Her family was clearly still royalty. One of the oldest black families in the town and her mother was the mayor, her father a U.S. Senator...what the hell was she doing with me?

"Okay, don't freak out on me. I'm not in politics at all." She tried to soothe me.

"Well, that's a relief. I thought I might be sitting across from the first black, gay president."

She laughed, "no. I'm in real estate. Nothing too fancy."