Chapter 1
A wave of depression settled over Marcella as she drove
her beat-up Cutlass into the low-income housing complex.
Pierce Commons had been her permanent residence for almost
five years, but today, the place looked different. It
looked worse than ever before. Beer cans and liquor
bottles thrown across the parking lot, trash spread over
the sidewalks, and graffiti plastered across the once
white, but now dirty-colored building. She couldn't help
but wonder how she'd been so silly as to get herself
caught up in this poverty-stricken situation. And Lord
knows she was worn out from struggling to make ends meet
by way of a seven dollar an hour job, not to mention the
child support Tyrone only paid whenever he felt like it.
This wasn't at all how she'd hoped things would turn out
for them. And never in her wildest dream had she thought
Tyrone, the so-called love of her life, would end up her
worst nightmare. She regretted the day she'd ever laid
eyes on him, let alone started dating him. And just
thinking about how he treated her, and how he neglected
Ashley and Nicholas made her sick to her stomach.
She parked directly in front of her building, turned the
ignition to the off position, and stepped outside of the
car. As she shut the door, she saw the children making
their way off the school bus. She frowned when she spotted
Ashley's bare head and Nicholas' pile-lined coat flagging
wide open. No matter how often she lectured them about
bundling up in the wintertime, it always seemed to ease
through one ear and right out the other. Why did they
always have to be so hard-headed? Didn't they know she
couldn't afford to take off work when one of them got
sick? If their sickness couldn't be helped, that was one
thing, but if it was primarily because they were being
careless and absentminded, that was another. Of course
Nicholas was like most boys and just didn't have time to
zip his coat up and put his hood on, but Ashley on the
other hand was simply trying to be cute, and didn't want
some knit hat messing up her little hairdo.
Marcella started fussing as soon as they approached her.
"Nicholas, haven't I told you a thousand times about
walking around in zero degree weather with that coat wide
open? And Ashley, you know you're old enough to know
better." The children just looked at her in silence. And
it was obvious that they didn't have the slightest idea
why she was so upset. She could see it in their faces, and
that irked her even more. Marcella couldn't remember ever
being that forgetful when she was a child, and couldn't
understand at all where this particular generation had
come from.
She shook her head and decided that maybe she was
overreacting, which was possible since she'd had such a
horrendous day at work. Right now anything would have
stirred her nerves, and it wasn't fair to be taking her
frustrations out on the children. Especially since for the
most part, Ashley and Nicholas were exceptional. They were
obedient, intelligent, and had wonderful personalities.
She loved her children and most of all, she was proud of
them. Proud because, even though they hadn't been born
with silver spoons in their mouths or with the stability
of a two-parent household, they were more well-mannered
than some children who'd been blessed with all the
financial advantages.
Marcella slid the key in the front door and opened it.
They all walked in one by one, Ashley shut the door behind
them, and they each kicked off their boots so they could
dry. Marcella opened the hall closet, hung her black, wool
scarf, charcoal-gray, winter coat, and then reached for
Nicholas and Ashley's outer garments.
"You two have any homework to do?" Marcella asked, closing
the closet door.
"I don't, Mom," Nicholas quickly offered with a huge smile
on his face.
"Good, then that means you can go work on those spelling
words so you'll be ready for your test on Friday,"
Marcella responded back to him.
"Aw, Mom," Nicholas said replacing his smile with a pout.
"Go on. I'll be in there to test you in a bit." Marcella
knew if he didn't have anything constructive to do, he'd
spend the rest of the evening glued to Nickelodeon. Too
much TV wasn't good for anyone, and it especially wasn't
good for an eight year old little boy.
"What about you, Ashley?" Marcella asked.
"I have some math homework to do, but I finished
everything else in class," Ashley answered and headed
toward her bedroom.
Marcella smiled to herself, because at that moment she saw
something in her daughter that she hadn't seen before. A
ten year-old icon of herself. She'd been the very same way
when she was growing up. She'd loved school from her very
first day in kindergarten all the way through her
graduation from high school. Ashley was a straight A
student, and was clearly following in her mother's
footsteps academically. Which was fine. But when it came
to falling hopelessly in love with some little boy,
Marcella prayed that she would find her own path to
follow. Because the last thing she wanted was for Ashley
to end up pregnant; the way she had with her during the
last month of her senior year in high school. It wasn't
that she didn't love her daughter. Or both of her children
for that matter, because she did. But she could kick
herself a thousand times for not being more careful when
she commenced to having sex with Tyrone. She'd loved him
from the very first moment she laid eyes on him during
their sophomore year. He, the school's top performing
football star, and she, the girl voted most likely to
succeed. The world had been theirs for the taking, but
without even having the sense to know it, they'd ruined
everything. Marcella had received acceptance letters from
colleges and universities all across the country, but
she'd had no choice except to decline each and every one
of them. She'd tried hopelessly to overcome this
irreversible mistake, but now that almost eleven years had
passed and she was twenty-eight, her efforts to do so
still didn't seem to be working.
Marcella dropped down on the beige, leather-like sofa, and
leaned her head back. She closed her eyes and rested them
for a moment. When she opened them, she gazed around her
apartment. The desperately discounted furniture, dull-
looking mini-blinds, and second-hand wall portraits were
disgusting, and now she was even more depressed than she
had been earlier. No matter how hard she tried, she was
still barely making ends meet. Her salary alone just
wasn't enough, and the few food stamps she received each
month never seemed to last more than two weeks. And the
only reason they lasted that long was because of how
conservative she was when it came to buying meat. If it
hadn't been for her mother and sister, she wasn't sure
what she would have done. They helped her out financially
whenever she needed them to and they went out of their way
to show Ashley and Nicholas how much they loved them.
Marcella could ring Tyrone's neck. Sure, she'd been just
as much at fault for not using the diaphragm, IUD, the
pill or something, but he'd never made any attempts to use
any form of protection either. She could still hear him
now. "Baby, I won't do it inside of you. I promise."
Hmmph, some promise. Because the only thing that had
resulted from his promise was her realization that the
withdrawal method just didn't work. Somehow though, she
hadn't been the slightest bit upset when she'd first found
out she was pregnant. If anything, she was thrilled. She
loved Tyrone, he loved her, and they were going to have a
beautiful baby girl that belonged to both of them. It was
perfect. He'd go off to college on his football
scholarship, marry her immediately after he graduated,
allow her to work toward an accounting degree, and then
she, him, and the baby would live happily ever after. And
things just might have turned out that way, if he hadn't
injured his knee two weeks before the start of his
freshman year. Marcella could still remember that day the
sports medicine specialist informed him that his football
career was over; that he would never play any sport on a
professional or continuous basis ever again. Tyrone had
cried like a baby, and for a while, she'd been worried
that he was going to experience a nervous breakdown.
Because not once had he ever imagined life without playing
football. The boy ate, drank, and slept it. And it was his
sole reason for existing.
Eventually his depression passed, but everything changed
for the worst when he slipped into a horrible and
unbearable mode of bitterness. He snapped at Marcella for
just about everything, and was angry at the world. Her
wonderful pregnancy had become a total nightmare, and she
regretted the day she conceived his baby. By the end of
her third trimester, he was barely speaking to her, and
rumor had it that he was messing around with a girl she'd
been friends with since third grade. At one point,
Marcella hadn't known whether she was coming or going. Her
parents were completely put out by the fact that she'd
gone to such an extreme to disappoint them, and they
proved it by not offering her one ounce of moral support.
Partly because they spent the majority of their time
arguing, but mostly because they each worked tons of
overtime trying hard to make ends meet. All they saw when
they looked at Marcella was an extra mouth they were going
to have to feed, and they weren't at all happy about it.
Which is exactly how it had turned out, too. They'd been
stuck with a two thousand dollar hospital bill and the
responsibility of purchasing Pampers and formula for a
baby they hadn't asked for.
Her sister, Racquel had been wonderful throughout the
entire pregnancy. She'd been away at school during most of
it, but she always called to talk with her. And when she
came home on weekends, she spent the majority of her time
with Marcella. Racquel had thought having a baby was the
most joyous and precious gift there was, and at the time
Marcella had agreed with her. But now, she felt like a
failure. Here she'd had a child at the age of eighteen,
and then gone on to have another child out of wedlock by
the same man who hadn't shown any interest in taking care
of the first one. Things could have been so different had
she gone to college, gotten married, and then took the
time to plan for children. Children didn't ask to come
here, and the very least a parent could do was make sure
they could take care of them and give them the best
possible life available.
A sadness engrossed Marcella, and she could feel the tears
building as fast as the thoughts were twirling through her
mind. She'd been sure that the children would bring her
and Tyrone closer together. How could she have been so
selfish? And so stupid? She'd had no right bringing
Nicholas and Ashley into such a cruel world without the
means to support herself let alone the resources to
provide for them. If only Tyrone would pay his child
support, things would be so much easier. Their lives could
be so much more happier. If only he would spend more time
with them. Didn't he know that little boys needed their
fathers? Didn't he know that Nicholas needed him? How
could someone simply walk away from the innocent little
faces of their own children, and pretend they didn't even
exist?
Marcella tried to blink back the tears, but she was
unsuccessful at doing it. She placed her hands on each
side of her head and looked down. "How could I have
screwed things up like this?" she whispered softly.
"Mom, what's the matter?" Nicholas asked walking towards
her with a confused look on his face.
Marcella wiped the wetness from her face as best she
could, looked up at him, and tried to smile. "Nothing,
baby. Mom just had a hard day at work. That's all."
"Don't worry, Mom. Everything's gonna be okay. And things
will be better when you go to work tomorrow because that's
what you always tell me and Ashley when we have a bad day
at school."
Marcella smiled, but the tears were still rolling.
Nicholas was so considerate and so loving where she was
concerned. Both of the children were. Especially, if they
thought something was bothering her. Which was even more
the reason why they deserved so much more than she was
giving them.
She noticed a piece of notebook paper in his hand. "Is
that your spelling list?"
"Uh-huh. You said you were going to test me on it, and I'm
ready." Marcella smiled, pulled him closer, hugged him as
tight as she could and then let him go.
"What was that for, Mom?" he asked frowning like boys his
age do when they think they're too old to be hugged by
their mothers.
"It's because I love you."
Ashley had been listening from her bedroom and decided to
come out to see what was going on.
"I love both of you so much. And don't either of you ever
forget it," she said reaching her hand out to Ashley.
Ashley looked at her still trying to figure out why her
mother was acting so strangely.
"We know that, Mom. We love you too," Ashley said leaning
down to hug her mother.
"Come on Mom, test me on my spelling words, so me and
Ashley can watch Nick at Nite after dinner."
"Ashley and I," Marcella corrected Nicholas.
"Boy, I'm not even finished with my math homework yet,"
Ashley said to Nicholas and frowned.
"So what. You will be by the time Nick at Nite comes on."
"But that doesn't mean I want to watch TV with you."
"You just want to get on that phone with your friends.
Mom, make her watch it with me."
"Okay you two. That's enough. Ashley, you go finish your
homework. And Mr. Nicholas we'll see how many of these
words you can spell before we discuss watching any
television."
"I know them all, Mom. I promise."
"We'll see. You keep studying while I go change out of my
work clothes, and I'll be back in a few minutes to start
warming up dinner," Marcella said rising from the sofa.
"Okay, Mom, but I'm telling you, I already know them all."
Marcella shook her head and smiled at him. When she
arrived into her bedroom, she shut the door behind her. It
was so amazing how the children always managed to
eliminate her depression. They were such a joy and they
were so special. All children were special to their
mothers she guessed, but hers were special because they
were surviving a way of life that was barely one step up
from living on welfare. They didn't live in the projects,
but still, there were roaches, drug dealers, and gangs to
contend with just the same. So as far as she was
concerned, it was the next best thing to being there.
Marcella pulled her black, sweater dress over her head,
hung it in the closet and walked toward the dreadful-
looking wooden dresser. Then, she slid off her black
tights, stuffed them into the top, right drawer, and
slipped on the royal blue, jersey-textured sweat suit
she'd left scattered across the bed earlier that morning.
She never liked leaving her clothing all over the place,
but after pressing the snooze button on the alarm clock
twice, there hadn't been any time to hang them. Tomorrow,
though, she was going to make time because she despised
keeping a messy apartment. She hadn't been raised that
way, and she made sure Nicholas and Ashley weren't either.
And even though the three of them didn't have any luxuries
worth writing home about, they went out of their way to
take care of what they did have. Ashley understood that no
dinner dishes were to ever be left in the sink overnight,
and Nicholas automatically took the garbage out without
being told. That's how it had been for her and Racquel
when they were growing up. And she was glad her mother had
taught them as well as she had. Her father had been the
only messy one in the household. Walking across their off-
white kitchen floor, and their light-tan carpet with his
filthy work boots had just about run her mother insane,
but no matter how much she complained, he never stopped
doing it. If they hadn't gotten divorced, she supposed he
still would be. It was almost as if he did it just to get
under her mother's skin. Her parents were at each other's
throats constantly, and the only time there had been at
least some peace in their household, was when one or both
of them were gone. They'd had the perfect marriage until
she and Racquel became teenagers. They seemed perfect for
each other, and everyone said so. But, somewhere along the
line, their father started staying out till midnight. And
it wasn't long before midnight became one, two and even
three in the morning. And finally when that wasn't good
enough, the wee hours of the morning had become the next
day's afternoon. It was obvious that he'd found someone
else, but didn't have the guts to leave. Then one Friday
night, her mother decided that enough was enough, and that
she wasn't, in her own words, "putting up with his shit
any longer," she dragged every piece of anything that
belonged to him out to the street, called the locksmith to
change the locks, and flipped through the yellow pages
until she found a reputable divorce attorney, who she
hadn't hesitated to call first thing that Monday morning.
Marcella could still see the look on her father's face
when he'd finally arrived home that Saturday morning. She
and Racquel had stared at him through the window from the
moment he'd pulled up until the second he'd thrown the
last of his things in the car and sped off. They'd wanted
to help him, but their mother had promised each of them
two weeks on punishment if they did. And they'd had no
choice but to obey her.
As the weeks continued on, their parents started seeing
each other again, and it wasn't long before their father
moved back into the house. Their mother stopped the
divorce proceedings, and for the most part, they seemed to
be enjoying each other's company. It was almost as if they
couldn't keep their hands off of each other.
That lasted for two years, but then suddenly Daddy
starting staying out during all hours of the night again.
Their mother had wanted to kick him out for good this
time, but her financial situation hadn't allowed her to.
She needed help with paying the household bills, Racquel's
college tuition, and yes, supporting Marcella and her new
baby. But it wasn't long before she realized that she
couldn't take it anymore, and that it wasn't worth living
with a man who spent all of his time with some other
woman. So, again, their father moved out, and this time
when their mother filed for a divorce, she went through
with it.
Marcella shook her head as she reminisced on her past. Her
unnecessary mistakes had caused financial problems not
only for her, but for everyone involved. And the more she
thought about it, the more convinced she was that her
situation had to change. She was born, raised, and still
lived in Covington, a working-class suburb just south of
Chicago, but her dream had always been to work for a
prestigious accounting firm somewhere downtown in the
Loop. Actually, part of the dream had come true, because
she did work for an accounting firm, but not as a CPA,
like she'd planned. Instead, she'd been hired as a
glorified administrative assistant who spent the entire
day greeting uppity clients and answering umpteen phone
lines. She was capable of so much more, and each of the
partners at the firm knew it. And they would have loved
nothing more than to promote Marcella, but since she
didn't have a four-year degree, their hands were tied, and
there really wasn't much they could do to help her.
Marcella stepped in front of the mirror attached to the
back of her bedroom door, pulled back her jet-black,
shoulder-length hair, and wrapped a beige rubber band
around it. As she scanned her face, she noticed a pimple
just under her right cheek bone. It took everything she
had in her not to squeeze it. She hadn't had any problems
with acne since adolescence, but this past year, facial
breakouts had become common. Of course, her medium-
chocolate skin had never been baby-like smooth, but at
least, it had always been above average. Maybe it was
stress, but more than likely, it was because of her
terrible eating habits. She was average height, but had
lost close to fifteen pounds over the last six months.
Which wasn't good, given the fact that most everyone she
knew had always thought she was way too thin in the first
place. She tried to make a conscious effort toward eating
more regularly, but most of the time her stomach felt
nervous. And it was obvious that it was because of all the
worrying she'd been doing about bills. Why were there so
many bills? And how was she going to pay them?
And she worried about just about everything else she could
think of, too. Like, why she'd gotten pregnant at such a
young age? And why on earth had she been crazy enough to
make the same mistake twice? Why couldn't she have been
blessed with a wonderful husband like her sister, Racquel?
Or even better, why couldn't she have married someone who
earned a decent living? And most of all, why couldn't she
have had the sense enough to go to college? Her sister had
been blessed with everything any woman could ever hope
for, and although Marcella loved her children more than
life itself, she'd trade places with Racquel in a second.
Marcella knew the grass usually appeared a lot greener
than it actually was, but compared to her lifestyle,
anything would be an improvement. Anything at all for that
matter. But she knew all this wishful thinking was nothing
more than some farfetched fantasy, and that no miracle was
going to just happen. And that in order for her life to
become better, she was going to have to take matters into
her own hands. Make some very drastic changes in the way
she viewed life in general, and the way she dealt with
Tyrone James. No more feeling sorry for herself and no
more complaining. Her decision was made. She was going to
give her children the decent life that they deserved. If
it was the last thing she did.