The Darkest Child

by Delores Phillips

In less than five minutes our mother had taught us to never touch her metal box, and the true meaning of fear. I wondered that day if I was the only one in the room who knew that there was something terribly wrong with our mother.

Mushy, Harvey, Sam, and Martha Jean were her white children. Tarabelle, Wallace, and Laura were Indians—Cherokee, no less. Edna and I were Negroes.

Wtf

Mama was deathly afraid of God. She was so afraid, in fact, that she would not go near a church. She sent us, instead, to collect her blessings and bring them home. I think she had convinced herself that God could not see her evil deeds if she did not go near His house.

Tarabelle was right. The Quinns were going to keep the fires burning in Hell, and Miss Pearl was going to be right there beside us.

“It’s a darkie, Mushy, darker than Edna, as dark as Tangy,” she said sadly. “They say I can’t have no mo’. It broke something inside me they can’t fix. Had to take it out.Took everything out, said I couldn’t have no mo’, and all I got was a darkie.”

You just a slut, Mushy, and a cheap one at that.”

From that moment, and for the next two days, we were forced to listen to our mother’s ambivalent sobs as she wept for a child she truly loved—and hated.

I was baffled by the ambiguities of my mother’s emotions and behavior. She denied and feared God in the same breath. She allowed our actions to shame her, and yet she was void of shame. I truly believed there was something unnatural about her—a madness that only her children could see. My yearning was not to understand it, but to escape it.

“The devil’s beating his wife.The devil’s beating his wife.”

Do all black ppl say this? Lol

She stared at him and clutched her blouse together, as if it might open to expose her guilt.

Hey, man,” he said, “this ain’t my business. Ain’t nobody pimping my daughter all over Triacy County. And I got two daughters. But I’m man enough to stay put and see about mine. Let’s hear you say that.And while you running all over the place, from Detroit to Pittsburgh or wherever the hell you go, do you sleep on a bed? Your daughter been sleeping on a floor all her life. My daughter’s in there in a bed. So don’t you talk to me ’bout no business, motherfucka.And while you sitting there trying to be mad about something, you oughta be taking her to a doctor.”

Velman bettah talk his shit!

back.You give yo’ heart like it’s water.You need to keep enough of it to love yo’self.Now,

I thanked Him for every breath I had ever taken in my lifetime, even the ones He had forced into my lungs when I had thought I wanted to die.