Chapter 5: September 7, 1982
1063 Words
"Square Biz" by Teena Marie was belting out from my radio, and I squinted. Was this the anniversary of her death? I hadn't heard that song in ages. I snuggled back into my pillow feeling very tired and yet strangely comfortable. The announcer began talking about the traffic as I drifted back to sleep, and I couldn't stop thinking about how much he sounded like Lincoln Ware. It had been ages since I'd heard him back when he had been the announcer for WCIN radio, which had been the only soul station in Cincinnati for years.
When "Early in the Morning" by The Gap Band began to play, my eyes slowly opened and I realized that the choice of music was odd.
"Kenya! How long are you going to let that damn alarm go off? Get up!"
I screeched in terror and then quickly sat up in bed. What in the hell?
I quickly looked around and was lost. I could barely see because it was still dark, although streams of morning light were just beginning to filter through the venetian blinds.
Wait…what? I do not have venetian blinds.
My heart began to pound in my chest when I realized I must have been in the middle of some crazy dream because I wasn't in my bedroom.
And I wasn't alone.
I looked over to the side and was able to see another bed beside mine and a lump lying beneath the covers.
"Kenya, don't make me come in there!" the voice yelled.
That was my mama's voice…well not her voice the way it was now, but a voice that I would never forget, one that was strong and clear—and young.
The lump in the bed beside mine suddenly sat up, and I was staring into the face of my little sister. Little was the operative word. Nubia had to be ten or eleven years old. She was glaring sleepily at me.
"Kenya! Turn off the alarm! I'm trying to sleep!"
I only stared at her until she grumbled, reached over, and slapped off the radio. The door flew open, and my mother was standing in the doorway, one hand on her hips, the other gripping the doorknob.
"I told you that if you can't get your behind out of bed on time then you won't be allowed to stay up watching TV. Now get up before you miss the school bus, and if you miss that school bus, I'm whupping your ass!"
I stared at this young woman who wore a short Afro, big dangling earrings, and a colorful African print blouse. She had my mama's face, but as I scanned her form in shock, I saw that she was younger than me! I remembered this woman, this younger version of my mama. My chest began to heave and tears filled my eyes.
What was happening to me? My mama was so beautiful and healthy and my sister was just a child. My breath froze in my chest as I looked down at myself. My back wasn't in pain! And although I couldn't see myself very well, I could clearly see that the body I possessed was much smaller and that the bed I was in was not the over-priced queen-sized I had purchased with the hopes of correcting my sciatica but a narrow twin-sized bed.
My mother's expression changed when she saw the look I must have been wearing on my face. She walked over to the bed.
"What's the matter, baby? Did you have a nightmare?" Concerned words now replaced her angry ones.
I latched onto the word "nightmare" and nodded my head rapidly as the frightened tears rolled from my eyes. I was trembling, and my mother pulled me into her arms and rocked me gently.
"It's okay, baby. It was just a dream. You're okay."
I relaxed in her arms as I tried to find a way to wake up. This was the most vivid dream.
And yet deep down I knew that I wasn't dreaming. When you're dreaming you might think that it's real, but it doesn't work the opposite way.
Somehow I was in my past.
The angry, screaming woman who had just threatened to whup my ass was now gone, replaced by a sympathetic mother who felt my forehead in concern.
"Are you sick?"
I shook my head while staring at her in awe.
"Did you have a bad dream?"
I couldn't pull my eyes from her chocolate ones. They weren't filmed over by age. My mouth parted. "Yes," I whispered.
She placed her hands on my cheek. "You're okay," she soothed. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"I-I don't remember." I blinked at the sound of my voice. It was my voice but it wasn't. It was a voice that I used to have, before my throat had become roughened from so many years on this earth.
"Do you want to stay home from school?" My eyes grew large. School?
"How do I wake up?" I asked quickly.
She c****d her head and looked at me in confusion. "Kenya, are you on that stuff?" She leaned in suspiciously, trying to stare into my eyes.
I shook my head quickly. It didn't take me long to revert back to the child Kenya.
Mama urged me to lie down. "Go back to sleep, baby. You don't have to go to school today." Her eyes flashed fire at me. "But you better not be on drugs. I won't tolerate that from you."
I gave her a curious look. "I'm not, Mama." She wouldn't tolerate it from me? Did she know about Kush, after all?
She pulled the covers up to my neck and bent down to give me a kiss. "Go to sleep."
I closed my eyes feeling as if weights were on my limbs. Please let me go back to sleep and wake up in my own time. Please. I opened my eyes quickly.
"What's the date, Mama?"
She frowned. "It's Wednesday…"
"No, the date."
"It's…" She thought about it. "September sixth—no seventh. September seventh."
"1982," I completed for her.
"1982," she confirmed with a crooked smile as if I was pulling her leg. She gave my shoulder a squeeze and then left the room.
Nubia turned in my direction. "Faker," she hissed.
- Writer
