Grace After Midnight_ A Memoir - Felicia Pearson [34]
I was going down.
When I got out of the mental ward, I felt myself going down. In my cell, I looked out the window. When the sun was shining I hated the sun because it made things look good when things were bad. When the sun went away it reminded me that there was no sunshine in my heart. When I looked out the window at night I couldn’t see stars, only darkness.
I went about doing what I had to do, lining up, mopping up, eating a little bit of this and a little bit of that. I lost weight. Refused to play basketball. Barely knew where I was or what I was doing.
Went through the paces.
Didn’t see no light, no hope, no nothing.
DOUBLE WHAMMY
Couldn’t do the usual things that got me going.
Couldn’t watch TV.
Couldn’t read a book. Or a magazine. Or even the sports page in the newspaper.
Couldn’t talk to anyone.
Couldn’t listen to anyone.
Could hardly look at anyone.
Kept my eyes glued to the floor.
Kept my mind glued to Uncle.
Him getting shot. Him being dead. Him never coming back.
My mind was fucking me, getting me to remember the good times when Uncle first became my friend. When he’d give me all that good advice. When he’d stop by the corner to make sure his Snoop was all right.
Mind was messing with me night and day until I was dying to find a way to shut down my mind completely. Just close my eyes and concentrate on something other than Uncle. Something other than this fuckin’ penitentiary. Something like good food. Or good pussy. Anything to get my mind off death and dying and doom and gloom.
I was eating alone, thinking those kinds of thoughts, when this girl who knew I came from East Baltimore came up to me.
“You know that nigga you call Father?” she asked.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t wanna hear nothing about Father. Didn’t wanna hear that he was dead. But she kept talking.
“He just got life.”
“For what?”
“For everything. They came down on him hard. Got him on every last thing you can imagine. And they made the shit stick. He gonna be gone forever and a day.”
They got Uncle.
Now they got Father.
Ain’t gonna see Father again no more. He ain’t dead, but he might as well be dead. Motherfucker’s now a lifer.
These were my guys, my lifelines. How did my lifelines become my deathlines. How did all this happen?
News of Father coming after news of Uncle deepened the hole I was sliding down. Blues got bluer. Funk got funkier. Everything got uglier.
If someone had said, “Take this here pill. Won’t hurt you none and you’ll be dead in ten seconds,” I might have swallowed it. Anything to get out of a world that was going against me.
I slept.
I sulked.
I let the darkness surround me until everyone was saying, “Snoop, you look half dead.”
I was half dead and knew it wouldn’t be long before the other half would crumble.
From one of the other cells I heard someone playing a song called “Sugar on the Floor.”
That’s what I felt like. All the sugar had spilled out of me and was on the floor. Nothing sweet was left. Hope was gone. Wasn’t any way in the world for this condition to lift. It was heavier than anything I’d ever felt before. It was permanent. No doubt, it was taking me down.
And then one night when my eyes were half closed I looked through the window and saw a half moon. That’s when it happened. Still don’t understand it. All I can tell you is that it happened.
GRACE AFTER
MIDNIGHT
I’ve never had a vision. Ain’t never seen no angel. Never heard the voice of God say, “Hey, Snoop, do this or do that.” Never heard the voice of God say nothing.
Back when I was a kid, Mama took me to her Holy Ghost Baptist Church. Pop had me over to where the Jehovah’s Witnesses praised God. Far as I was concerned, it was all good. Wasn’t like I got caught up in that shit, but I didn’t see it doing no harm.
As time went on, and I hit the corners, Mama would try to get me back me in church, but I wasn’t having it. Church didn’t mean nothing to me then. Didn’t have