Under the Peach Tree (2 page)

At twelve years old, I was still defending myself against the neighborhood kids. “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” I heard all the kids screaming around me, but I only saw big, fat Dee Dee cracking her knuckles. She was Jordan's bigger sister and was twice my size. She was baldheaded and tried to wear a ponytail but her hair wouldn't stay in it, so, instead, it stuck out at all places. She was known for bullying all of the younger kids around the way, but I was never scared of her. I was big for my age too, and would beat her up like I did her brother.

A week ago, Jordan asked me to make Faith be his girlfriend, and if I didn't, he'd get his sister to beat me up. Momma told Faith that she could have a boyfriend when she turned sixteen, and she still had four years to go. Momma told me that I couldn't have a boyfriend until I was eighteen. I didn't understand why until Faith explained it was because I already had big boobs at twelve, and that Momma said I already looked sixteen and would probably be the first to have a baby, so no boyfriends until I was grown.

I didn't think it was fair though. Momma always had an excuse for why Faith got to do things that I couldn't and half of the time it never made sense.

“Why you look scared now, Hope? You wasn't scared all those times you fought my little brother,” Dee Dee said, breaking my reverie.

I smacked my lips and rolled my eyes sarcastically. “Dee Dee, ain't nobody even scared of you. All you gonna do is try to sit on me with your fat self!” I heard everybody laugh, which added fuel to the fire I was already standing in. Down the road, I could see Faith running toward us. Momma still had her dressed in those pretty dresses. I admired how it danced in the wind as she ran. I still wasn't able to wear dresses, but I guess pants and a T-shirt was the best thing to fight in.

My attention snapped back to Dee Dee as she clenched her fist, ready to punch me. I looked back at Faith, who was just feet away. Her shouts temporarily distracted everyone.

“Hope!” She ran up to me, oblivious to the fight that I was about to be in. She bent down, resting her hands on her knees while trying to catch her breath. “Hope, the street lights are on. Momma's gonna kill you if she finds out you're still outside! Come on!” Faith grabbed my arm and started dragging me away.

“Look, she's running away, scared to get her butt beat!” Dee Dee shouted as we ran down the street. But I didn't care; if Momma knew I was still outside, she'd do far worse to me than Dee Dee ever could.

Faith and I snuck into the house through the back door. The kitchen smelled like fresh rolls and pork chops. My stomach started to growl, I hadn't eaten a thing all day. But that wasn't unusual; we never had food in the house. Or maybe it was because Momma told me I needed to stop eating so much because I was chunky. I used to hate watching Faith eat snacks and candy while I had nothing.

“Come on!” Faith whispered, after peeking around the wall to see if Momma was sitting in the living room. “She looks like she's sleeping.”

She grabbed my arm and pulled me down the hallway. Once we were in her room, she flopped down on her bed and relaxed. “If Momma knew you were still outside, she would've blacked your eye!”

I laughed. “But she didn't. She probably fell asleep watching her shows. You know she wanted to see if Bobby was going to leave Christina for Angie.”

“I watched it with her.” Faith laughed. “And Bobby did leave Christina but only because she's pregnant by Bobby's brother. And why were you outside with all those kids?”

“Big, fat Dee Dee wanted to beat me up because I won't let Jordan be your boyfriend.”

Faith's eyes widened. “Jordan wants to be my boyfriend?”

“Yes, and Momma said you can't date until your sixteen. Plus, Jordan is ugly!”

“No, he's not! All of the girls in the seventh and eighth grade like him, too! I heard an eighth grader saying she wanted to do it to him!”

“Ew!” I started to choke, like I was dying.

“And he's sweet to me,” Faith said in a dreamlike state.

“Well, he's mean to me, and I don't want you talking to him!”

Faith was quiet for a minute. I watched her fiddle with her fingers in contemplation.

“What is it, Faith?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes averted.

“No, tell me! You never keep anything from me.”

Faith sighed. “I started my period today.”

I laughed. “About time! What did Momma say?”

“She was happy, I guess. Said I'm finally becoming a woman.”

I frowned. “Momma whooped my butt when she found out when I started. Remember? She said I was doing the nasty with them little boys because eleven-year-old girls don't get periods and it had to be my cherry, whatever that means. And when the doctor told her it was my period, she didn't apologize for beating me.”

“I'm sorry about that, Hope,” Faith said, as if it was her fault.

“Why do you always apologize for Momma's actions?”

Faith shrugged. “Everybody deserves an apology. When I went to church last Sunday, the preacher said everybody should also forgive those who sin against us.”

“What's sin?”

“It's when people do bad things that Jesus tells them not to do. He has a lot of rules that we're supposed to listen to. Like we're not supposed to steal, or lie, or kill, and we have to love God first,” she explained.

“How many rules are there?”

“Too many to count.”

I nodded and tried to picture the preacher preaching the words that my twin had the privilege of hearing. I learned at an early age to hate church. If God wanted me to go, He'd have me there. But I still sat outside near the church every Sunday and sang all the church songs. Mostly because I loved to sing; partly because I didn't want to feel left out.

Momma didn't go to church either. Whenever I asked her, she would say because it's boring and her momma used to make her go to church as a little girl. She told me I better be thankful that I didn't have to sit there and listen to an old man talk about a God who she never heard nor saw. She said that maybe when she got old and had no choice she would finally set foot back in church.

No church attendance: it's something both me and my momma had in common.

“Faith, do you think that God knows who I am?”

She smiled. “He knows all His children. At least that's what the preacher said.”

“So, God and Momma was together?”

Faith laughed. “No! God is Momma's father too!”

“I don't get it,” I stated, confused.

“Me either, but I'll ask the preacher next Sunday and tell you.”

I lowered my head. “Faith, do you think Momma will start letting me go to church?”

“Ask her.”

A week later, I finally worked up enough nerve to ask my mother. She was cooking breakfast Sunday morning, singing an Earth, Wind & Fire song. She was in a very good mood, probably because she no longer had to worry about doing our hair; Faith did both of ours. She didn't have to worry about picking out our clothes or getting us dressed. All she did on Sunday was cook and watch TV.

Being twelve years old also meant that I no longer got whooped. Instead, she'd just smack me upside my head and send me to my room with no dinner. I preferred the beatings. I also felt like my mother never took the time to even see if I was in the wrong whenever she accused me of doing something. She never heard my side of the story. To her, I was guilty with no chance of being proven innocent. I was the bad twin, the fat twin, the nappy-haired twin, the devil twin. Faith was the good twin, the sweet twin, the pretty twin, the polite twin, the angel. Momma said we were like night and day, but Faith and I knew better. We were just alike. We were twins. The thing I loved most about Faith was that she never saw herself as better than me. We were equals, the same on the inside, just different on the outside.

I never understood why Momma treated us differently. I used to lie up at night praying for God to make me a good girl so that Momma would love me more. No matter how hard I tried, she still found something to pick at. Eventually I accepted my fate, but it didn't make it less hurtful.

I used to leave Momma drawings with hearts and kisses all over them to show her how much I loved her, but she always regarded them as trash, and I'd find them lying in the garbage hours later. Faith got to keep her drawings on the refrigerator. Momma said it was because she was good at drawing and her pictures should be shown off, but I didn't believe that.

“Momma, can I start going to church?”

“No, and don't ask again.” Her tone of voice was final. I decided to direct the conversation elsewhere.

“Hey, Momma, what are you cooking?”

“I'm cooking some breakfast for Faith before she goes to church.”

I frowned. “What about my breakfast?”

“I only have enough to make Faith breakfast. She's the one who gotta go to church. Don't want her around them church folk hungry. There's some crackers in the cabinet, eat them!”

I turned around and saw Faith standing in the doorway, watching. Her expression was impassive, but I know she felt what I felt. Momma had bought Faith a new dress and that's why she didn't have any money to put groceries in the house. Knowing Faith, she'd think it was her fault that I didn't get any breakfast.

I decided not to argue about it, and walked over to the cabinet to get the crackers, but the cabinet was empty.

“Ain't no crackers,” I said, turning around to Momma with a frown.

She sighed. “Oh, that's right. I gave them to Jordan's mom so that they could eat them with some chili she made last night.”

I sighed and rubbed my growling stomach. I couldn't believe Momma would give her last food to the neighbors but couldn't give me a thing. I didn't understand how a mother could let her child go hungry and not think twice about it. I bet if I died, she wouldn't have even blinked.

Grandma no longer picked Faith up for church since she was old enough to walk. Every Sunday, I would walk Faith up to the entrance of the church and then go over to my peach tree and sing the songs. Once we were out of our house, Faith handed me her lunch.

“Here, take it. “ She shoved her food in my hands.

“Then what are you gonna eat, Faith?”

“I'm not hungry, okay? If you don't eat, I don't eat.”

I smiled. Her generosity was her best trait. “Thanks.”

We continued walking down the road in silence. I was admiring the beautiful South Carolina day. The sun was shining brightly and the trees danced in the wind. Days like these were the best. There was something about the sound of nature that called to me. If I listened closely enough to the sound of swaying trees, the wind tossing about crunchy leaves as the birds sat on branches chirping away, I could almost hear a faint voice calling out to me, telling me that it loved me.

I stopped shy of the church, always making sure I never touched the actual land. There was a white fence that cut the church off from the dirt road where I stood. I watched as a few church members entered the church dressed in nice slacks and dress shirts. One woman had on a hat so big I thought she was going to tip over. I was surprised she even made it through the door.

Faith turned around to me with her Bible in her hands and smiled. “See you after church. I'm gonna have lots to teach you.”

I frowned and kicked dirt in the air. I didn't want to hear about the Bible anymore if I couldn't learn it by sitting in church myself. I hated how unfair life was. I wished I were Faith. But instead of complaining about it, I just nodded. “Okay, Faith.”

I watched her walk onto the church grounds. She turned around to me just before she entered the church and blew me a kiss. I caught it in my hands and continued walking to my favorite spot on Sunday mornings, where I pretended to be a part of something I was not.

Once me and Faith were fifteen and old enough to watch ourselves, Momma would start going into the city on the weekends doing God knows what with God knows who. She seemed happy when she came home; Faith was the first to suspect that it was because of a man.

Whenever Momma left, I was the first to want to act up. I would call boys over to the house and flirt while Faith stayed in her room, reading her Bible.

I loved the attention I got from boys and men. Momma was right when she said around sixteen I'd look like a woman and many men would try to seduce me. Men would come from the city to take advantage of a small-town, naïve girl. I was the first one they wanted and I loved it. I was the duckling who everybody called ugly, but at fifteen, I was praised for my beauty. Nobody wanted to talk to Faith; they said that she was a Jesus freak and wouldn't put out. Well, whatever she wouldn't do, I did. I felt that it was my time to get the attention that I deserved as a little girl.

One weekend when Momma was away, I called up a college boy who played football for South Carolina University. The girls in our high school used to talk about how sexy he was and I had to have what they didn't have. He actually spotted me one day, walking home from school. He pulled up in a nice all-black BMW with the brightest smile. He looked cool and mysterious in those dark sunglasses and had my attention immediately.

“What's good?” he asked.

I looked behind at the other girls he had passed and felt special that he stopped for me. Momma said any man would stop for a girl who had a butt like mine. I used it to my advantage. I leaned on his door, poking my butt out in the air to let the girls behind me know that I was flirting, in case they tried to talk to him.

“Hey, baby, just walking home from school.”

He nodded. “Need a ride?”

Did I? Well, I had two options: either I seem easy and get in his car and show off in front of those girls, or I play hard to get and keep on walking. Eventually he would pull back up beside me and ask for my number, and I would give it to him. I decided to go with my second choice.

“I like to walk. It keeps my figure nice.”

I didn't have to see his eyes to know that he was admiring my body. They all did. I turned around and started switching my hips on down the road. Seconds later, he pulled up beside me. I smiled inside.

“Dang, ma. No love? I'm just trying to be a good old-fashioned gentleman.”

“Well if you were a true gentleman, you would've offered those girls back there a ride home too.”

He smiled. “Oh, you're feisty. I like that. How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” I lied. He was around twenty years old; if he knew that I was fifteen, I'd hear his tires burn and he'd speed away. I lived by the motto of “what he don't know won't hurt!”

“I want to get to know you.”

“I bet you do, Mr. No Name.”

He smiled. “Call me Daune, and what's your name?”

“You can call me cutie for now.”

“Okay, cutie.” He laughed. “So am I giving you a ride or not?”

“No.”

“Well can I get your number?” He handed me his phone and I saved my number.

“It's saved under cutie number two, because you already got a cutie listed in your contacts.” I rolled my eyes. “But call me, maybe,” I said as I walked away. I heard his tires screech and smelled burning rubber as he hurriedly pulled off.
Show-off.

I saw Momma pacing on the front porch as I approached. Her hair was wrapped in a blue scarf and she was still in her nightclothes. When she saw me, she gave me the evil eye. “Get your fast behind inside!” Momma shouted in an intimidating voice. She no longer scared me the way she did when I was young and helpless so I took my good old time walking up to the porch. The worst she could do was smack me, and I was immune to those smacks. “I ain't got all day to wait on you, child! Get to steppin'!”

“Fine, Momma, dang!” I yelled back, slowly walking up the porch steps. When I reached the top step, Momma grabbed me by the hair and yanked me inside.

“Yeah, word travels fast in this small town, honey. I got a call from Ms. Francine saying she saw you out her window talkin' to some hot boy in a Benz.”

“It was a BMW.”

Momma smacked me across the face for correcting her. I didn't even flinch.

“I don't care what kind of a car it was, honey, any boy old enough to drive it is too old for you.” Momma shook her head and let go of my hair. “And I heard you was bending over like a ho! You a ho now?”

“No, Momma. I bent over so that I could hear him,” I lied. “He said he was lost and needed directions so I gave it to him. You always wanna listen to all the he-say/ she-say and never to me.”

“Because you lie. You been lying since the day you was born!”

“How am I gonna lie if I can't talk?”

Momma smacked me again. I kept my eyes even with hers.

“I'm 'bout sick of you talking back to me like you grown. Last time I checked, you ain't nothing but a little girl. Go on, though. Keep thinking you grown. If you end up pregnant, I'm kicking you out. Remember that.” She walked off into the kitchen, mumbling under her breath.

I sighed, tossed my book bag on the ground, and went to my room. Faith was the good girl. Every day after school, she would go down to the middle school and tutor children. She didn't have time to worry about boys because she stayed in her books. She always had something to say about my behavior, though.

When she came home, she headed straight to my room and locked the door behind her. I had just gotten off the phone with one of my friends from school. I rolled my eyes when I saw her. “Can you knock?”

“Who was that boy you were talking to on the way home from school?” She was upset, which was her normal. Lately, I always did something stupid to make her angry.

“Let me guess.” I rolled over to face her. “Momma told you.”

“No, one of the tutors who goes to our school told me. Answer the question.”

“Oh you know, just one of the many men who want me. His name was Daune and he drives a BMW. I bet he got a lot of money.”

“Hope, who cares about money?”

“Um, me!”

“The Bible says we shouldn't worship idols.”

I covered my face, trying to hide my irritation. “Who cares about your Bible? Never did me any good.”

“Maybe because you don't read it!”

“I don't read it because I don't have one!”

“Borrow mine!”

“Borrow the Bible that Grandma got you? Where's my Bible? She didn't give me one.” I sighed. “Faith, I'm tired of living through you, borrowing your stuff, listening to stories about Jesus through you. Nobody gave me the chance to learn it for myself and I'm at the age now where I couldn't care less. If you give me that Bible, I'll burn it.”

Faith stepped back as if smacked. It made me laugh. Faith had never gotten smacked a day in her life and I almost hated her for it. Almost.

“Hope—”

“Faith, can you please get out of my room?”

She nodded slowly and let me be.

Faith and I barely said a word to each other that next day; that was, until Momma came barging into the house with a man. A fine man at that. Faith was in the kitchen cleaning while I sat lazily on the couch watching old reruns and talking on the phone. Our house wasn't much, but we made due. We had a small living room with an old orange couch, a blue chair, and a small TV. Momma hung pictures of Faith in her pretty dresses all around the house. The kitchen was barely big enough for two people due to the table that sat in the middle, and most of the time the cabinets and refrigerator were empty. Momma did have three bedrooms, though. Faith's room was right next to mine, and there was a small door in the wall that allowed us to go back and forth from room to room. It came in handy on nights where the storms were too loud. My bedroom was plain, with a bed and a dresser. Faith was more of a girly girl and had to have dolls decorating every corner of her room. I thought she was too old but Momma insisted. It was Faith's room Momma showed off whenever she had company.

I was sitting in the living room, bored from watching TV, and decided to go outside. Just as I reached the door, Momma swung it open, knocking me to the floor.

“Hey, girls!” she said happily, oblivious to knocking me over. I noticed a pair of slick black dress shoes behind her. My eyes passed his shoes, glanced at his trousers, continued up to his blazer, and landed on his lips. This man had to be only thirty years old and smiled like Morris Chestnut. It was obvious that even under that black blazer he was packing some tasty muscles.

I shook the idea of his body out of my mind and stood up, putting up my normal wall filled with attitude. Momma came to me and hugged me kindly. It took me more by surprise than getting knocked over by the door.

“Hope! My beautiful daughter. Where's your sister?”

“I'm in the kitchen cooking, Momma!” Faith's voice echoed throughout the house.

I couldn't believe Momma had called me beautiful; she always saved those kinds of words for Faith. I was going to touch my face to see if something had changed; but, instead, I put my hands on my hips and eyed the man who smiled back at me. The fact that Momma had called me beautiful was now a distant memory. It didn't count if Momma only said it to impress him.

“Who is this man?” I asked with an obvious attitude.

Momma turned around to the man and smiled. “She's the feisty one I was telling you about.”

He smiled at me, blazing those perfect white teeth. “Hope, right? Hi, I'm John, you're mom's boyfriend,” he stated, sounding proper and prim.

Boyfriend? And I didn't know about him?

I was always known for my dramatic moments. I kicked John in his leg and ran up the porch steps in a fit. I heard John curse loudly and Momma yelled at me, but I didn't care. She would smack me later, I knew that much, but to me it was worth it. Momma brought a stranger home, a man neither Faith nor I knew about. She deserved to be smacked, and since I couldn't smack my own mother, I kicked her boyfriend.

I stayed in my bedroom for about an hour, listening through the door as Faith buttered up to John. I bet Momma was proud. Leave it to Faith to save the day I probably ruined.

Momma frowned when she saw me enter into the living room. Faith and Momma's boyfriend looked up as well, but their nonchalant expressions told me they had forgotten about the kick. “Now that you're done having one of your moments, come help us carry John's things into my room.”

I followed John outside and watched as he began struggling with some luggage near his car. I turned to Momma as she and Faith came from inside of the house and stood on the porch.

“Why he got so much luggage?” I asked, still holding strong to my attitude.

Momma ignored my question and went to help John with the rest of the luggage. When she passed me on the step, she purposely bumped in to me. I heard a thump when she set the luggage down inside of the house.

I turned to Faith. “Is she moving that man in our house?” Faith only nodded, sourly. “What? No! We don't even know him!” And it was true. Not only did Momma bring a stranger home, she was moving him in with us. I couldn't believe Faith was just standing there, accepting it with just a sour expression.

Furious, I walked up to John with my hands on my hips. He was still busy retrieving the rest of his bags from the trunk and hadn't noticed me. I bet another kick to his leg would get his attention.

“And how long have you known my momma?” I asked, fighting back the urge to attack him.

He turned around with a smooth smile. How could he be so nice after I kicked him? “Awhile now, why?”

“Because she never said anything about a man.”

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The afternoon sun seemed to be getting to him. “That's because your mother is a grown woman and doesn't have to tell you kids everything.”

“A grown woman don't bring a stranger around her teenage girls,” I spat.

“Well, I assure you, I'm no stranger.”

“You talk like a white person.”

“I'm educated.”

“You went to college?”

“Yes.”

“Jail?”

John laughed. “No, and I don't ever plan on it. You always ask this many questions?”

“I need to, especially if you think you just about to come up in my house and lie in my momma's bed and do the nasty. I don't know you and I darn sure don't want to. You can take all your luggage and shove it up your—”

“Hope!” Momma called from the porch. I was so consumed by my argument that I didn't notice she came from the house again. “Hurry up and bring his bags in the house.” She then looked to her boyfriend. “Is she harassing you, John?”

John gave me a measured look and then shook his head. “No, we are getting along just fine.” He smiled at me once more before joining my momma in the house. And I stood there, near his car, angry that I had no authority to make him leave. I couldn't believe my own momma would move a man in without first introducing him to both Faith and me beforehand. I could already tell I wasn't going to like John. Had I known then what I know now, I would've done anything to make sure he didn't enter that house.