Free The Coldest Winter Ever by Sister Souljah Page A

down. Meet a
nice guy.
One of those budding doctors or lawyers or engineers.”
    “You talking crazy, Daddy.”
    “No, seriously, Winter. My life from the outside is all good. But believe me, whether it’s actually all good or bad, right or wrong, there’s no letting up. No time to relax and just enjoy life. It’s right when you think you’ve made enough big moves, now you can take that deep breath, that’s when the next guy gets you. He’ll figure he caught you sleeping, call you a tired old fool and move on you. Nobody wants to be all the time with one eye looking over your shoulder and one eye at the door. You, Winter, you deserve better. You deserve to relax, kick back, have the easy and finer things in life. No stress. One of these big-headed doctors, lawyers, engineer boys around this neighborhood can give you that. A man in Midnight’s line of work can’t.”

5
    When Momma was wheeled into the house the following week, it didn’t matter that Santiaga had coached us on how to act and what to say. By this time he had told my younger sisters that Momma fell down and had a little accident where she cut her face. But no rehearsal could have prepared them for what they saw. Anybody who knew Momma could only be thinking one thing: Damn! Who was that? She looks bad! Me and Magdalena tried to smile and make light of the situation. But that look of shock and horror that came over the kids’ faces when they saw her could not be erased by any joke. Momma was thinner than usual. The area around her mouth was twisted and disfigured. She still had a piece of bandage covering a small part of her face. There was only one thing I was sure of. I
would
be driving the big Benz.
    Later that evening, while Santiaga was out, I pushed my mother’s door open and quietly walked in. “What’s up, Momma. How you feeling?” She was responding but her words were slurred. She sounded like an old-style wax record with the needle dragging on it. “OK, Momma, don’t talk,” I said, holding my hand up and smiling wide to make her feel comfortable. “I got a lot to say. Let me just fill you in. Nordstrom’s has the perfect all-leather red Adrienne Vittadini suit for you. I even spotted some red driving gloves that go with it real nice. You hurry up and get better ’cause we gonna be cruising!” She gave me a sigh, then a half-smile. I knew that meant I was making her feel good. Hell, this was Momma. I knew what made her feel good!
    “The housekeeper is here full time now. We been taking care of everything. The girls missed you so much, they’re real happy you’re home. Oh and Santiaga, he’s like a puppy without his woman. You gotta hurry up and get better ’cause he needs you.” Just then with the mention of Santiaga’s name, one tear rolled out of Momma’s left eye. “Don’t worry, Momma. If there’s anything you need, I’ll get it for you.
    We gonna get it together.” I leaned over and gave her a kiss on her forehead, then whispered in her ear, “We bad bitches, remember? Bad bitches don’t die.” Again she cried instead of smiling. I tried to remain cool. “Girl, Santiaga’s gonna get you the best of everything, no doubt. Your face gonna look even better than it did before the accident.” At Momma’s gesture, I handed her the pen and pad from her night table. She scribbled a note to me, which read:
Stay out of Brooklyn.
    Overcoming boredom was my new project in life. I had spoken with my girls from Brooklyn, but I ended those conversations as soon as the questions started flowing. Usually the questions started flowing immediately. Of course nothing but a Mack truck could stop Natalie’s mouth from yapping. She volunteered the information that some serious shit had gone down around our way and some peeps turned up missing. Which really meant nothing to me except nosy niggas around the way ain’t see certain people for awhile, but for all they know niggas could be down South visiting relatives or some shit