Duct Tape and Lint Pt. 3

Life didn’t come easy for Russia.  She worked her tail off for everything she had today and she was glad to do it because she discovered long ago that free ain’t really free, Hon’Tee there’s always some type of debt owed.  As she sat at her kitchen table trying desparately to hold back the tears that seemed insistent on falling she reflected back 16 years ago when she lived big, loud and recklessly.  Her baby’s daddy was one of the biggest dope dealers in San Francisco (to let him tell it) but he never allowed her to participate in the business.  He ran Harbor Road like a well-oiled machine.  He was feared and respected, nobody messed with Pookie and lived to tell about it.  He bought her whatever she wanted, and what the boosters didn’t have they bought at “real stores”.  They had a nice set up down the Peninsula away from the drama.  They talked about buying a house but never seemed to get around to it because they were too busy living for right now and besides, Pookie was convinced they would never run out of customers.

She prided herself on being a great mom to their only child, Lil Pookie.  She fantasized about private school, little league and all the things the little suburb kids had.  The only money she had from the time she was 16 was what Pookie gave her and when I tell you he had money, I’m not talking about a few dollars and I’m not exaggerating.  Not long after Lil Pookie’s first birthday life started to change subtly at first but the changes began to come in waves of mistrust of almost everyone Big Pookie knew.  He was always looking over his shoulders, insisted that she stay away from the City (San Francisco) even though that’s where the majority of her family and friends lived.  He allowed certain people to visit at the house but quickly cut that off because of his paranoia.  He cut off the money he freely gave her forcing her to ask for everything, he secretly activated the GPS on her phone and beat the crap out of her one day when she turned it off.  He accused her of cheating on him, stealing his money, all kinds of crazy stuff.  She had no idea how much debt she had incurred with him over the past few years.  She finally worked up enough nerve to leave Pookie after much encouragement and support from her paternal auntie Theresa and she relocated to Texarkana, Texas.  Two weeks after escaping from Pookie, the DEA raided their place and Pookie was now serving a 20 year sentence. 

She had been given a second chance in Texas thanks to her Auntie but today was one of the worst days of her life.  She was laid off after 13 years with the Texarkana Refinery but the severance package and her savings had run out.  She didn’t care about the creditors that were blowing her phone up but if she didn’t come up with the past due mortgage within the next two hours she would lose the home she bought on her own.  She was able to scrape the money together with an exception of $100.  Her mother promised to wire the money hours ago and it still had not come.  Desperate she went through every purse she had and found $96.57!  She checked her coat pockets and found her gold hoop earring, sticky candy, lint and another $2.03.  She rummaged through all of her jeans only to acquire more lint under her fingernails but she found $100.40.  She screamed Hallelujah, Thank You Jesus!! and then had a meltdown right in the closet. She hated debt: it was sneaky, conniving and manipulative.  She felt like its prisoner.  The more she thought about it the angrier she became and declared, no more, enough is enough.

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To look at Martinique she appeared to have everything together.  Her hair was always whipped; every fake eyelash was always in place, face beat so well it looked hand painted; nails done and her outfits were always well coordinated.  She looked like a million bucks even on the weekend in simple jeans, t-shirt and tennis.  Wait, I take that back, nothing is simple about Martinique.  Everything she wore or owned was recognizable by the brand (e.g. DKNY, Victoria Secrets, Kenneth Cole, Steve Madden, St. John, Coach, MK, Prada, Nike, Adidas, Vera Wang, Tiffany, Zales, Mercedes Benz, Kauffman Builders, etc.).  She lived by the quality and quantity rule, you see, it wasn’t enough just to have things, it was necessary that they be made of the finest quality, even what she consumed.  She ate at the very best restaurants and only shopped at specialty high-end stores like Whole Foods, Trader Joes, etc.  You would never catch her at Foodco or a corner store in the “hood” primarily because she rarely entered the hood but mainly because she looked down her religious nose at “places like that”.

She was the envy at work, church and her neighborhood.  She was absolutely gorgeous at 41 years old with her perfect hourglass figure that still turned the eyes of men and women.  She wasn’t conceited at all, in fact she didn’t view herself as beautiful because she suffered from major self-esteem issues that she learned to mask with things for the past 30 plus years. She was the darkest, prettiest and thinnest in her family.  She was teased and ridiculed constantly and her parents didn’t have the capacity to show her the affection she needed.  She turned her attention on academics and sports to escape the constant taunting and soon learned that boys would give her things if she would allow them to touch her in secret places.  With the help of some older girls in the neighborhood she learned how to refine her manipulative skills to get what she wanted from people, search for and use resources to her advantage.  For example: she couldn’t afford college but she made good grades, learned about financial aid and received a few scholarships, but she dropped out of college after completing her sophomore year to take an  intern position at Google and quickly worked her way up the Google ladder to a management position.  How did she accomplish so much so quickly?  That’s a great question but your virgin ears may not be ready for the answer. 

Don’t let her management position fool you Hon’Tee, Martinique was a dressed up hood rat and she had no problem mixing her feminine gangsta with Google if she needed to.  Money was no longer an issue, in fact, it hadn’t been in years.  She could buy whatever she wanted when she wanted and would still have money left over.  Besides, one of her men was a stockbroker and the other one was a fire inspector for San Mateo County.  They both paid very well for the privilege of “touching her”.  However, as she sat at her kitchen table calculating her debt, she felt like her life was slipping out of her hands, similar to Russia, except she felt like she was slipping down the slopes of a bottomless black hole.  She tried desperately to maintain her footing, but each day it became more and more difficult to do so. 

Her debt wasn’t financial as Russia’s, it was spiritual.  She felt like she had sold her soul to the devil to climb the corporate latter but she also had an emotional debt because she had sold her authenticity to the stockbroker and fire inspector for “things”.  At 41 she was miserable, depressed and finally realized she had no idea who she was or why she was here on earth.  Martinque looked in the mirror and saw a mask that she decided to remove and when she did she saw the chocolate little girl that was still broken and confused.  She felt like humpty dumpty who had fallen off the wall but the glue from the tape would no longer hold her together.  She fell to her knees, cried, snotted and screamed for God to free her because she was tired from the debt she had incurred with no ability to pay.

Come to me, all you who are struggling hard and carrying heavy loads, and I will give you rest.  Matthew 11:28 (NLT)

Because of his underserving Favor

Tania Not Tanya