Who Asked You? by Terry McMillan Read Free Book Online Page B

concern you, Aunt Arlene, but thank you so much for asking.” And she walked over to the door, opened it, and put all of her weight on one flip-flopped foot.
    As I waved to the kids, she yelled out behind me. “Tell Omar I said hey. He is still living at home, right?”
    I nodded yes.
    She nodded too. “He lost any weight?”
    “As a matter of fact he has. But don’t let it concern you. Merry Christmas.”
    “Jingle bell rock to you too.”
    Trinetta has not spoken to me since. To this day I don’t know if CPS ever showed up or not. Probably not. They get too many of these types of calls. Especially from neighborhoods like this. But this is the reason so many of these kids end up on the six o’clock news.

    Why people take drugs baffles me to no end. Especially when they can’t afford them. And why can’t they do them
before
they have children? If you’re that dissatisfied with the quality of your life, change it! I’m no saint. I experimented with a number of popular drugs in college. And I enjoyed them. Enough to understand why some people get addicted. If I hadn’t had specific life goals, I probably could’ve taken the low road. But I didn’t like feeling that good. I enjoyed being depressed, disappointed, and miserable when it was necessary, because it built character and it was how I evolved and came to be the woman I am now.
    Betty Jean has come to Trinetta’s rescue too many times to count. Some people think they’re helping their kids when they do so much for them, but it’s not true. I’m sick of hearing about that girl’s trials and tribulations. She could’ve been cleaning teeth all these years but has yet to graduate. And she was such a smart child. But then again, Betty Jean’s parenting skills cannot be found in any how-to book.
    Deep down inside, I think the reason Betty Jean doesn’t confide in me is because she has never really forgiven me for trimming her hair when she was little. Was it my fault she didn’t care for the pixie? She also blames me for introducing her to Lee David, knowing he was almost old enough to be her uncle. But I didn’t twist her arm. I could say a lot of things about her that she has no idea I have stored in my memory bank, but I don’t like throwing things in her face just for spite. She has done and continues to do a lot of stupid things, and had she gone to college, where you can learn to think critically, it might have helped her make more intelligent decisions.
    For instance, Venetia told me she borrowed against her little raggedy house to get help for Trinetta, because the bank called Venetia for a reference. Look how well that’s going. Then she went and bought the girl a car and is paying the insurance; she uses Venetia’s address to get lower premiums. And I know for a fact she has paid Trinetta’s rent, but she lives in a Section 8 apartment, so how high could her rent possibly be? Ninety-six dollars, that’s how much. And how many men have those boys called Daddy? Trinetta’s had enough hoodlums living with her, you would think it might occur to her to get one that could help her with those kids or the rent. But apparently that has never crossed her mind. Which is the main reason why it just gets on my nerves to see how much money Betty Jean has spent on her and her kids. She has bought enough school clothes for an orphanage and she practically lives at Costco. Not to mention being Mrs. Claus year after year.
    I try not to compare. Even though Omar was born with a few health issues that I’ve tried helping him learn to cope with as well as overcome, he’s still the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t know what I’d do without him. Of course college is not for everybody and he’s had a hard time figuring out what interests him. He’s still young, and I’m patient and confident that one day soon he’s going to walk through the right door.

    I knock four times on Omar’s door. I don’t know why that boy won’t get up