Raising an Unwanted Child: An African Woman’s Personal Tale on Raising an Unwanted Child
NOVEMBER 2018
“Jimmy, what’s that?” Brittany asked when she saw her son squatting in a corner with a box in his hands. They were cleaning the attic that Saturday and everyone was hard at work.
“Your picture mom,” He said walking up to her with what she realized was a tin containing old pictures.
“Is this Dad?” The little boy asked pointing to a laughing young man with a full beard who was standing beside her on a bridge.
“Yes, baby. That’s your father” Brittany said smiling at the photograph. She had been sixteen when that picture was taken and had lied to her parents she was going to the bookstore just so she could go see the new bridge with Ronnie.
“You seem happy with him Mom. Why did both of you not stay together?” Jimmy asked. Brittany sighed and brought him in for a hug. The little one had taken to asking about his father. His elder ones Jacob and Lisa didn’t seem to care and it made Brittany happy.
“Sometimes things don’t work out Ok? Let’s clear this place up so we can have lunch” she said and kissed him on the cheek. When he was gone she brought the picture closer to her face, recognizing a favorite gray fur sweater.
***
AUGUST 1976
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Brittany stretched as she got out of bed, a few of her bones popped nicely and she smiled. Outside the window, the birds chirped around the only tree in the yard as leaves fell steadily. Autumn was Britany’s best part of the year because it always smelled dry but there wasn’t much heat. She also got to sweep the compound in the evenings when the breeze was blowing cool and strong enough to create the illusion of combing through her hair.
Apart from it being autumn, it was also Debate Tuesday and she had been chosen by the Debate club as their representative for the week. She had chosen to give a speech on Addiction Among Men and its Effects on Women’s Lives. She and her mother had worked hard on it over the weekend and it was almost perfect when they finished.
“Good Morning Mom” Martha greeted her mother who was making pancakes in the kitchen. “Where is daddy?”
“Bright morning to you my sunshine. He has gone to work already” her mother said. “Come on gimme a fuggy huggy! how did you sleep?”
“Well Mom,” Britany said, It was obvious she was getting impatient.
“Okay, not even a question of how I’m faring. Alright. Do you have the speech in your bag?”
“Check!” Brittany said happily.
“Great! A tape recorder?” her mother asked.
“Check!” the girl said tossing her head.
“Lunch? What? You need to eat Missy. Come on. Have it. I love you baby, make me proud” her mother said. Brittany took the food from her mother.
“Love you too, Mom” she kissed her mom and walked out of the house. leaving the door to close with a resounding bang that made her mother grit her teeth.
***
“A man’s behavior towards a woman determines her behavior towards him to a very large extent and men with drug addictions behave terribly towards women. They also behave badly to the children, a situation that most women can’t tolerate” Brittany said. Her eyes roved above the head of the audience and the judges. She was standing on the small podium and talking in a loud bold voice.
“How do you know that Brittany? You’re not a woman” Mr. Sam their history teacher said. Brittany looked at him. She had never liked the man. He had a habit of giving pop quizzes when students had not even understood the concept of what he was teaching.
“I made a research on it, Sir,” Brittany replied.
“I still believe you’re not in a position to give a speech on this topic” he persisted. Ms spencer tapped his arm.
“ Mr. Sam. That’s alright. Brittany go on please” she said.
“I’m done Ma’am,” Brittany said, packing up her things from the table.
”What do you mean? Brittany your time is not over” Ms. Spencer said. Brittany ignored her, bowed to the judges and walked out of the hall. As she walked out she heard Mr. Sam asking his colleagues, “Shouldn’t we put an embargo on the kind of topics they are allowed to present? She is only Twelve for god’s sake.” Tears came to her eyes as she walked towards her locker. Thankfully, the bell rang a few hours later.
“Good evening Dad” Brittany greeted. Her father was reclining on the couch looking tired and drained. She wondered why he had called her here instead of going straight upstairs to get some rest.
“Sit down Brit,” he said. Motioning to the spot beside him. When she was seated, he put his arm around her and stared proudly into her face until she smiled. “ I heard you had an argument with your teacher today”
“Yes, Dad he..” Brittanny started.
“Shhhh. I don’t want to hear what he did baby. You shouldn’t have walked away from the podium. Is that what I taught you? To walk away from the spotlight? Is that how you plan to walk away from life? Please, Brit tell me that’s not true.
“It is not true, Dad,” Brittany said sniffing. She hated it whenever her father gave her subtle reminders of their less than perfect economic situation. It made her feel that somehow she was responsible for it. She did not understand her father, why did she have to be reminded so often? Sometimes she wondered if God reminded people close to him how soon their supply of air was going to run out.
She also felt wronged and unloved. Mr. Sam had upset her but who cared about her feelings? Not even a word of comfort to ease her suffering. She couldn’t wait to grow up so she could stop caring what people thought of her and live her life alone. That night as she lay in bed crying into her pillow, she decided that when she became sixteen she would leave her parents and go get a job of her own.
***
“I’ll take this, and this and this!” the young boy said. His dark hair was cut close to his head. He looked up at Brittany. “How much do these cost?”
“A hundred dollars. and no don’t touch that. There are no extras, please.” Brittany said when the boy pouted cutely. At sixteen she looked like a pretty little doll with all those thick curls framing her face. Her skin was light brown and shiny with all the oil in it. The boy was searching in his pocket for some money and when he found it he stretched out his hand and took hers.
“I love your hair,” he said. “Wow, I really love your hair.
“Thank you,” Brittany said. Her hand went reflexively to her hair.
“Can I touch?” He asked.
“No. I don’t even know your name,” Brittany said aghast.
“Ronnie. Pleased to meet you. Can I touch now?” He said grinning. Despite herself, Brittany laughed.
***
“Have you ever thought of it?” Ronnie asked. They were lying on their back watching the stars in the small patch of empty land two blocks after Brittany’s house.
“Thought of what?” Brittany asked. She turned towards him and his beard tickled her face. Seventeen and already having to shave his beard. Ronnie said in his neighborhood at New york city older girls leered at him whenever he walked down the street because they thought he was their age. Brittany thought the leering disgusting but she couldn’t deny that he looked nice on a beard.
She had told him so and he had argued that with or without a beard he was a handsome guy. Two days later he produced a photograph of his thirteen year old self smiling on top of a tall building with his arms spread wide. He looked wild and almost beautiful, Brittany decided she loved him that day.
“With all the people dying these days. What if heaven becomes overpopulated and there is no space left for us when we die?” Ronnie asked sounding genuinely scared.
“That’s scary” Brittany agreed. “What do you think will be wise for us to do if that happens?” She asked, raising herself up by her elbow so she could stare into his face.
“Stick with each other,” He said, getting up and holding her tightly to him as a way to emphasize his point.
“Oh!” Brittany breathed huskily.
“You’re Beautiful” he kissed her, “Why are we young?”
“I don’t know, I’ve always wanted to grow up” Brittany bit out as his mouth clamped on a soft spot in her neck.
“Want to be grown up with me tonight?” Ronnie asked.
“Yes” Brittany said opening herself up to him. In moments they became so busy they didn’t care as a slight drizzle fell around them. The sky was weeping.
***
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It was another autumn and the tree in the yard was shedding again. Brittany had written her final exams but had been unable to go to prom with the others because she hadn’t stopped feeling dizzy and nauseous that night.
“What is wrong baby?” Her mother asked when she came in and saw her curled up in bed, her carefully ironed gown ruined.
“I don’t feel well,” Brittany said. Her mother sat down beside her.
“You look so pale. You’ve barely eaten anything today.” Her mother’s face grew suddenly dark. “By any chance, are you pregnant?”
Brittany shot up from the bed and towards the bathroom, her blue dress trailing desperately after her. She heaved into the bowl for minutes then she began to cry. Few minutes later her mother appeared at the door with a pregnancy test kit in her hand. She handed it over to Brittany without saying a word.
The next morning hunger pursued Brittany out of her room. She tiptoed towards the kitchen soundlessly.
“Brittany.” Her father called in a low voice. Brittany froze misstep. She turned around and saw him sitting on his favorite couch. She walked towards him, her whole body shaking.
“My wife told me about your disgrace. Who is he?” Her father asked. His eyes were turned towards the window and he stared outside, avoiding the sight of her. It was true that her father had always spoken against teenage pregnancy. Brittany felt the pain simmer in her belly.
“Ron-nie.” Brittany said, her voice cracking.
“That McAllister boy dared to get my daughter pregnant.” Her father said with gritted teeth. He sat there fuming for twenty long minutes before he realized she was still standing before him, “Get out of my sight!” he bellowed. Brittany ran to the safety of her room.
One week later Ronnie’s father sat in her parents living room. Her mother had called her by opening her room door and motioning to her. She seemed determined never to break the silence between them and it was eating Brittany up. When she got to the living room she sat quietly in a corner and stared at the floor, casting furtive glances at them from time to time.
“I will have nothing to do with someone’s pregnant wife,” her father said.
“My son and your daughter were never married. A simple act of indiscretion is not marriage,” Ronnie’s father said.
“Whatever it may be, she is carrying his child and your son must take responsibility for it. We both know how expensive it is to raise a child.”
Ronnie’s father’s eyes danced with bitter humor “My son or me? You seem so eager to saddle me with your responsibilities!”
“My responsibilities? I once had a daughter and then your son came and made her into a monster carrying an unwanted child!” her father shouted. Brittany gasped loudly from the corner and McAllister looked at her with pity.
“I will not allow you to call my grandchild unwanted again!” Ronnie’s dad threatened through gritted teeth. “And have some shame! This poor girl is no monster.”
“You better take her away with you. I promise to throw her out in the streets together with what she is carrying inside her!” Her father said, then he jumped up and ran upstairs. He came back downstairs with a bag of her clothes haphazardly arranged.
It was then that reality dawned on her. Brittany went on her knees in front of her father and begged with all her might. He only threw the bag at her and went back upstairs. Brittany screamed her mother’s name and got no answer but the same stifling silence she had lived in for a week.
Ronnie’s father let her cry for a while. He took the bag from her and put it in the boot of his car then he came and lifted her off the floor. Brittany wept throughout her ride to New York City, curled up in the back seat for so many hours she could barely move when it was time to get out of the car.
The house was silent when they entered, it looked nothing like the one Brittany and her parents lived in. There were obvious signs of money in every corner. McAllister took her to one of the guest rooms upstairs and told her to make herself comfortable. A few hours later Brittany woke up to shouting downstairs. She jumped from the bed and went to listen at the door, her bag held firmly in her hand. Shouting continued and suddenly there was a crash.
A woman screamed and Brittany ran out of the room to see what was happening downstairs. She found Ronnie standing in front of his father with a fierce expression on his face. One hand was on his head to stop the rapid bleeding. His mother was holding his father’s arm to stop him from hitting the boy again.
“I warned you. I told you to be careful!” His father said, his voice raspy from shouting so much.
“I don’t have to listen to you, Dad,” Ronnie said. His mother gasped and his father leaped at him but Ronnie was too fast. In seconds he sailed over the sofa in the living room and was out the door.
***
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Brittany closed the door after Ronnie entered into the room. The children were sleeping soundly in their rooms and the moon shone through the open window.
“Jimmy asked me about you today,” she said. Ronnie took off his shoes and placed them at the foot of the bed.
“What did he ask?” he said.
“Why we didn’t stay friends,” Brittany said.
“How did he come about that question?” Ronnie asked. His eyes were closed and she knew he was hiding them from her because they would be bloodshot as usual.
“He saw our old pictures when we were cleaning the attic,” She said.
“Oh!”
“Ronnie when will you come home? Your dad is gone five years now.” Brittany asked.
Ronnie opened his eyes and stared at her. Then his hand came up to catch a tear falling out of her eyes, they were shaking uncontrollably. “Don’t cry my beautiful girl. You’re just as beautiful as you were that night,” He smiled and a piece of Brittany’s heart fell off.
She bent and this time she was the one that kissed him, holding his body close to hers in hopes that they could stick together at last. Life had been unfair to give them a taste of the beauty of their love when they couldn’t enjoy it. How could they be happy with all the pain gathering around them?
Three beautiful children all conceived on nights like this and one of them asking every day for his father. She had lied to them that she had separated from their father because they couldn’t get along.
Who was she to tell them that their father was a drug addict who lived on the street with his gang? How would it break their heart to know that some nights their dad came home to her but they never got to see him? They might hate her, not understanding that she was sparing them, saving them from the gnawing pain of waking up and not seeing those pair of shoes in their place at the foot of the bed.
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