Allegedly

by Tiffany D. Jackson

God and I share the same problem.

Figures of speech are luxuries convicted murderers are not allowed to have.

Her youngest brother, Anthony, died as an infant.

“It was a cruel and painful birth. I knew something was wrong with her from day one.”

“I’ll come see you every week. Well . . . on second thought, maybe every other week. Every week may be a bit too much for my pressure.”

who understands me, no words necessary, among the half-living.

I can’t help but smile. I’m gonna have a baby.

I didn’t mean to throw her . . . “I didn’t do it.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Momma, but it’s time. You have to tell the truth.”

She loved them babies, almost a little too much, you know. Not saying there’s anything wrong with that, but she was always a little too . . . attached. Real touchy and kissy, took her time bringing infants to the mothers. I caught her feeding and rocking one to sleep in an empty room once. Odd but harmless.

I’ve been working here for close to twenty-five years and I’ve never seen a new mother look so, well, regular, after giving birth.

But nothing comes from nothing.”

“What does it mean when you love and hate someone at the same time?” I ask. He laughs. “It means they family.”

What bothers me is who else has a knife in here besides me.

We need to talk about Ray and Alyss—”

if she were on the medication and dosage as prescribed, she would not have had the strength to carry out the crime. The combination would have made her highly lethargic.

When I’m done, the entire room stares—wide-eyed, mouths gaping. New Girl is pale as a ghost and Terry looks green. Ms. Cora is the first to attempt to talk. “I have to . . . I just . . . I mean. Holy shit!”

Alyssa. My Alyssa.

We all turn to New Girl, standing by the door with a delirious smile.

But I’m only the weakest part of angry; I’m hurt. Hurt makes you want to lay in the middle of the street, dead on the ground, muscles gone limp.

“They think I’m a monster.”

Nothing is more painful than believing you’re close to glory, only to find out you’re still in hell.

Ted reaches for my stomach and I drop the fork, holding the knife at his neck,

I tried to grab Alyssa but she flew out of my hands and hit the wall . . . I didn’t mean to throw her. I was trying to save her! I didn’t mean to . . . I’m sorry.

“How much do you love your momma, baby girl?

Our eyes meet, both knowing it ain’t that simple to give up on people you love that don’t love you the same.

Parents aren’t supposed to disappoint their kids like this.

It’s the cruelest type of punishment.

take a step back, bumping right into New Girl, watching Ms. Reba, her eyes cold.

Then it hits me, and this confusing type of relief wraps me up like a blanket, but I still feel cold. She’s not coming.

She’s just not coming.

I have no daughter! Never did. Still don’t.

What she is saying is that Mary is not her biological daughter.

“Do you know who I am? What I . . . did?” She takes a deep breath, staring through me. “What yuh may or may not’ve done is not di definition of who yuh really are.”

“Mary . . . I can’t. And I’m not even sorry that I can’t.”

Why does she hate her so much if she knows she didn’t do it?

Ray is dead. I know how, I just don’t feel like saying.

We may never know the real Mary.

Mary’s mind she is the mother, and her mother is the child. And a mother always protects her child.

I can’t believe I’m not from Momma’s womb. Maybe I was born from her soul. That would explain so much.

So I gave her my pills.

I shouldn’t feel guilty. Alyssa was being a bad baby and I deserved to have a momma like Mrs. Richardson.

Because that’s all this was about at the end of the day, doing anything to get away from Momma. Even killing a baby.