Babi
Aww, look at you, Nini,” I gushed. “You look so cute with your ponytail.” I patted her puff ball sitting at the crown of her head, as we both stood in front of the
vanity mirror in my bathroom.
Nini was an eight-year-old, chocolate beauty. For years, I’d been babysitting her, and I made it my mission to speak life into her, and any other child around me.
Hearing my words of affirmation, Nini smiled, revealing the silver caps on a few of her teeth. She was a thin little something with thick hair that her mama often complained about combing. Meanwhile, everybody knew that I wished that I had a little girl of my own, and had no problems with dealing with Nini’s coarse hair.
“Thank you,” Nini grinned. “But I wish that my hair was like yours, Babi.”
1
Gazing at my reflection, I ran my fingers over my hair which was in a messy bun at the crown of my head. The texture of my hair was much finer than Nini’s and about twelve inches longer, but that didn’t make it better.
“Girl, no.” I sassily snapped my fingers, and placed a hand on my hip. “My hair is cool, but I like yours more. Because it came fromyou. Mine is just different.”
“But you have good hair,” Nini insisted, after probably hearing her mama say something similar.
“And your hair is good too.” I smiled, while pinching her cheek. “Now, let’s go outside.”
Nini nodded, before we both switched out of the bathroom, heading back out onto the porch area of my apartment building. I had been kicking it outside for much of the day and had only gone inside to comb Nini’s hair. Her mama had been kicking it on the porch with my cousin, while her three kids played in the court-yard. Her two sons were in desperate need of a haircut, and Nini’s hair was a hot mess. I didn’t know how to cut hair, so there wasn’t much that I could do for the boys, but I had to at least do some-thing with Nini’s hair. Meanwhile, Chell, Nini’s mama was running her mouth, while her wig appeared freshly installed.
Living in some government-funded apartments, it wasn’t uncommon for the mother to put all the effort into her appearance, while placing her children on the backburner. And with Chell, you could never say that her kids were dirty, because she kept them in designer. They were always well put together for pictures she’d post on the Gram. Then in between those photo ops, she’d let her kids walk around like whatever, while she never had a hair out of place. Personally, I never liked to see kids not looking their best and would often intervene with whoever.
“Yeah, Lil’ Lee nem got a section. So, you know that we good,” my cousin Soya mentioned.
Soya was a year younger than my twenty-eight years. She was a medium built, copper-penny complexioned, cute girl. She had one little boy, Cass, who was seven, and they’d been living with me for about six months, which I totally didn’t mind. She worked at Jack in the Box, just down the street, walking distance. She still received food stamps, kept the fridge full, paid a few of the utilities, while we split responsibility for the household necessities. Which made my life easier.
Grabbing my foldable chair, I sat down, while everybody loudly chatted. I shared the porch area with a neighbor, and she was also sitting outside, running her mouth. Like myself, several of the residents had grown up in these very projects that had been torn down and rebuilt and were known as 790 aka The Ghettos.
We were in the heart of Acres Homes aka The 44. Which was on the northwest side of Houston, Texas. My mama literally once had an apartment here, before they were torn down and rebuilt. Then once they were rebuilt, I was one of the first names drawn off the waiting list. Using my mama’s name, we’d lucked upon a two-bedroom two-story apartment. Now living with her much older boyfriend, my mama never actually lived with me, but kept her name on the lease, liking the idea of her officially having a place with her name attached.
To keep the two-bedroom, I had to have my mama on the lease, which means that her income was included in the pricing of my rent. Therefore, I paid about five hundred a month, although I technically didn’t have a job. Knowing how to work the system, I kept a hustle, and would just get paid under the table. I would babysit, clean houses, and braid hair. The money I made from braiding alone paid all my bills, including my car note. The other hustles kept extra money in my pockets, which I would stack, because I didn’t live a very glamorous life.
I didn’t believe in wearing cheap clothes or anything…because everybody in the hood cared about designer shit. I was no exception. However, I just wasn’t wasteful. I hadn’t been to the club in over a year, since I would only go out with my man, and he was on a…vacation. Although I knew how to braid, I rarely did much with my hair, beyond keeping it moisturized and occasionally bleaching in blonde streaks. Naturally, I kept my hands and feet done, because nobody wanted no crusty damn feet. I also would get my brows micro-bladed, and had to buy myself at least one pair of Jordans a month, because I was an official sneaker head. Outside of that…I was holding my man down, while he did his time, and spent most of my free time either watching other people’s kids or reading a good Urban fiction book on my Kindle.
Living in the hood, I can admit that my hobbies weren’t very common, but I was no oddball. Frankly, most people who knew me would probably think that I’m lying about reading books throughout most of my nights. Growing up, I had always been kind of Tom boyish and mostly hung with my nigga. Would ride shotgun and hold that pistol and work too. In fact, I had been with Too Low since I was thirteen. He was my first everything. My only too. And he’d kept me out the way.
It was funny how my brother QT was so well known throughout the hood, but only his closest friends even knew that he had a sister. I wasn’t in the mix like that. Never a part of any gossip. Wasn’t messy. And only fucked with who I fucked with. I never really hung outside as a child. Then Too Low scooped me up, and preferred to keep me close. So, you only knew me if you knew me. As the bitches would say…I didn’t have main character energy.
I didn’t care for the spotlight. Didn’t want the niggas to see me. So,whenevertherewasacrowd,I’dfadeintothebackground.
Listen closely. Take everything in. And it wasn’t because I was shy. Because anybody who really knew me could vouch that I was far from it. I just didn’t really come alive, unless I knew that everybody around me was genuine. And that was probably why I loved kids the way that I did. The adults on the other hand…were mostly full of bullshit.
“Shit, I think that I might slide out there with y’all,” my neighbor, Casey mumbled, before taking a sip from her cup.
Casey was a thick, light skinned, heavily tatted, gold teeth having, red hair wearing, loud-mouth. Since she’d been living next door, there’d been three times the traffic on the porch, because she was a social butterfly, who had no qualms about inviting herself places. Just like she’d often invite herself to hang in my apartment, especially after I’d cook.
“Yeah, I think that we should roll out around ten,” Chell added, as she took a sip from her double Styrofoam cup. I could detect a slight slur when she spoke, indicating that she was sipping lean aka codeine.
A lot of people liked sipping drank around 790. Personally, I’d occasionally indulge, but only when I just needed some good rest. Outside of that, I didn’t like anything that would potentially have me incapacitated. And I never understood why they’d want to stumble through their day, half out of their minds.
“Neighbor, is you going out?” Casey glanced my way. Soya snickered. “Girl, Babi’s ass aint going nowhere.”
Casey hooded her eyes. “Why not? You a gorgeous girl, Babi.
Why you always stay in the house?” Before I could respond, my cell rang.
