Charge It To The Game by Blake Karrington, Tonya Blount

depression—but she was religious. I remember her taking me to church and singing hymns around the house. Aunt Hope always told me that we‘re not suppose to handle the dead-when they go that‘s it. We suppose to wrap their bodies and bury them. Being a mortician, you handle all these bodies and some of the spirits are bad—demonic. They say that one day Momma embalmed a man‘s body that had raped and killed about two or three little girls.
―Aunt Hope always said when Momma opened up his body--the demons jumped out of his soul and got a hold of Momma. After that, Momma cracked up and started messing with my father who was a drug pusher. I never knew his real name. In fact, I didn‘t know anything about him other than he supplied the dope that pushed Momma permanently into darkness.
―My mother was so smart, and beautiful, you know?‖ I said my voice cracking. ―She had smooth cooper-tone skin. I remember she was tall and had hazel eyes-like me.‖ I managed to smile at the gradually fading memory of her. ―But her eyes were prettier…more on the green side. She had a real thick scar on her hand that kinda looked like a lobster. I think my father pushed her into a glass door or something. And I remember she always wore a certain kind of perfume. I‘m not sure of the name, but I won‘t ever forget the smell. It was a soft and light scent. I‘ve only smelt it on one person before--an old lady on the bus was wearing it. Anyway, you know the rest…one Christmas she left to go to the grocery store and never came back.‖
Taj pulled me toward him and tightly embraced me. ―I‘m so sorry, boo, because you didn‘t deserve that childhood hell. And you sure don‘t deserve the life sentence of pain.‖

Chapter 7
    Opening up to Taj proved more therapeutic than I could have ever imagined. For years, I had convinced myself that I had divorced that part of my life. I never knew how much my past affected me and most of all, how much it dictated my future.
    I reached ove r to Taj and he wasn‘t there. Then I began rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I squinted to gain eye focus to read the time on the cable box: 9:34 a.m. Damn. It’s that late?
―Taj,‖ I called out. ―Taaaaaaaj, baby what you doing?‖ Madison came running into my room barking. ―Not you. I ain‘t call you.‖
    After receiving no answer I began climbing out of the bed. As I started walking toward the bathroom, I noticed an envelope with Taj‘s handwriting. It was lying at the bottom of bed. What the fuck is this all about? I shoulda known he wasn’t gonna be able to handle all that shit…
    I picked up the envelope:
Hey Beautiful,
Had to take care of something. Call me when you get
up. Before you do though, be prepared to answer this… Will you marry
me? Taj
    My hands began to tremble…fate had finally decided to show up. Instead of running to pick up the phone, I headed to the shower. Taj was everything I wanted and more…but did Taj deserve the shattered past I owned?
    The phone began to ring, it was
Taj. ―Where you at?‖ I asked.
―Huh?‖ Taj asked bewilderedly.
―Where you at? Why you ain‘t wake me up before you
    left?‖
―Good morning to you, too…damn!‖
―Good morning,‖ I mumbled.
―You ain‘t see the note I left you?‖
―Yeah…but you ain‘t say where you was going?‖ ―Oh, so that‘s all you gotta say about my note?‖
    I was silent and started to pick with my fingernails. I need to get a manicure today.
―Storm!‖
―What? Why you screaming at me like
that?‖ ―What? You know what? Fuck this!‖ ―Taj! Taj. Oh, I know he ain‘t just hang up on me.‖ I started to redial his number.
―What?‖ Taj answered.
    ―Why you hang up on me? What kind of stupid shit you on this morning?‖
―Storm stop calling me.‖ Taj said and then hung up again.
    I kept dialing him back, but he kept putting me straight into voicemail. ―Fuck you then…you ain‘t give me a chance to say shit!‖
―Miss Storm, are you