Page 68 of Don Caselli

“And you?”

“I remember… I remember those people coming into the house and packing our stuff up.” As she spoke, I could see her disassociate, as if she was reliving it right in front of me. “They took mommy’s perfumes and put them into boxes and then worked on the closet. Menace asked them what they were doing, and they said it was orders. Think that was the last time I hugged Menace because they started packing my room up and I screamed and cried. He held me, not knowing what to do, not having the control. I think that’s why being in control is so important to him now.”

Lunch had taken a turn as we both sat silent at the table. Even the waiter came and quickly left when he realized it wasn’t the time to take our order.

“I find myself humming “Let’s Wait A While” by Janet Jackson randomly.”

Zoya smiled at me, her eyes glossy. “Her favorite song. She used to play that song all the time. Even when she didn’t play it, she could be caught humming it.”

“Damn.”

“I’m sorry, Don.”

I looked at her. “Why?”

“Because you have bits and pieces of our parents. That’s all you have to hold onto, and it’s not fair. Not fair that we had to continue life without parents.”

“Yeah.”

“Got each other though, right? Zoy and Donnie forever,” she smiled, as she quickly swiped away a tear.

“Chill, you not about to be calling me Donnie again.”

As quick as the tears were there, she was back to herself. Stacking those bricks higher so that nobody could break down those walls she built. “I think Menace showed us that we can let love in. If there is someone to love him, there is someone to love you.”

“And you.”

She shrugged. “I’ve made peace that I’m not meant to be in love and have that forever, Don. Trust me.”

It was like she was trying to tell me something without saying it. I knew my sister and knew not to push her. If Zoya wanted me to know, she would tell me.

Right now, she didn’t want me to know so I was respecting that.

12

NavyBLEU

Children.

As I sat with my kindle in my hands, watching a woman carefully sit down across from me, with a new baby in the stroller beside her, I assumed she had just given birth. She had become a mama, and I loved that for her. She peeked over in the stroller with this look of pride on her face. So proud that she had given life and contributed to adding to the human race. As she adjusted herself, I could see she was in pain and was trying to breathe through it. A man had come from the receptionist desk and had checked them in, and I assumed it was her child’s father.

He sat next to her and rubbed the small of her back, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. They both took turns looking at their creation, and it warmed my heart. She was less concerned about the pain she was in, and more concerned about the baby when it started to cry. That was the thing about becoming a parent; it became less about you and more about the child. I watched as she leaned on the chair she had just sat in andstood up to do the full checklist of things that could be wrong with the baby.

I knew early on in life that I never wanted to have children. While Greene was obsessed with baby dolls, always toting them around, I never played with them. The thought of being a mother to something, even a fake doll, irritated me. I always knew that I wanted my life to be about me and only me. You couldn’t do that when you had children.

Growing up, I watched my parents make my life their entire life. It wasn’t until now that I was grown that they were living for them. Doing what they wanted because I was grown. I knew that I wanted to be selfish. Every time my aunt or mother asked me if I would change my mind, I told them no.

I didn’t want children and that didn’t need a full breakdown or thesis for them to understand. Well, my mother understood more than my aunt. She couldn’t wrap her head around me being so young and knowing what I wanted. My parents were never upset or mad because they would never have grandchildren because they respected my decision.

I’ve been from doctor to doctor since I was twenty, and each doctor denied me. They told me they wouldn’t even consider removing my tubes until I had at least one child. Some even went as far to mention how I was unmarried, and what if I found a husband that wanted children. The hypotheticals were more important than what I wanted as a grown ass woman. My hypothetical husband had more rights than I did, and that proved to me how fucked America was. I filed complaints on both doctors because why would they ever play me like that?

If the doctors weren’t enough, my insurance company was the other problem. They refused to cover the procedure, not understanding why a young woman in her twenties, unmarried, without children would ever want to remove her tubes.

As if I wasn’t capable of making my own decisions and knowing what I wanted for my life. I saved the money for the procedure since I refused to be told no. This doctor was my last hope, and I prayed that she would do what the others wouldn’t.

I spent hours on the internet in different threads on websites and her name continued to come up. They spoke about how understanding she was to patients who wanted the same thing. I was nervous because I could walk out this appointment with the answer that I had been wanting for a while.

“Hey baby, sorry the train took forever.” My mother plopped down beside me and crossed her legs.

---