It Was All a Dream: Fragments of a Dream

by Latisha Smith Howze

Overview

Daydreaming was the coping mechanism that Michelle Jackson used to endure the perils of life throughout most of her teenage years-that is, until she meets and falls hard for criminal-minded Lonnie, who subdues her with his charm and manipulative ways. The repercussions of being Lonnie's girl forces Michelle to mature into adulthood at a blink-of-an-eye pace. Lonnie proves to be cunning and insecure and slowly wreaks havoc in her life. The test begins to see if Michelle has what it takes to shake off a defeated spirit, rekindle her own inner strength, and recognize true love before it passes her by.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781504986199
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	03/31/2016
Pages:	206
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.47(d)

Read an Excerpt

It Was All a Dream

Fragments of a Dream

---

By Latisha Smith Howze

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2016 Latisha Smith Howze
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5049-8619-9

---

CHAPTER 1

I had always been a daydreamer. Mama would call my name sometimes three or four times before I would snap out of the fantasy world in my mind, and come back to the reality of the world around me.

"Michelle, Michelle, MICHELLE!"

"Huh? What?"

"Girl what do you be thinkin' about? I swear, you can't hear nothin' when you daydreamin' ... I don't know where you get that from. I need you to go to the store and get me some cigarettes and aspirin."

"Maaaaa. ... when you gonna stop smokin'? That's probably why your head is always hurtin'."

"Girl shut up and find me a pen so I can write a note," she said, rubbing her forehead. "Y'all kids the ones that make my head hurt!"

"Nu-uh, that's your husband with all that cussin' and fussin' that's makin' your head hurt," I said snidely, handing her a pencil.

Mama had been smoking every since I was a little girl. When I was younger, I begged her to stop, after my teacher discussed with the class how smoking cigarettes could kill you. When I told her what my teacher said, she explained to me that cigarettes were like the candy I loved to eat. She said that even though I knew the candy wasn't good for me, and that it made my teeth hurt sometimes, I still ate it because I was addicted to it. That must have been enough of an explanation for me, because as time went on, I stopped asking her to quit.

As I crossed 100th street and walked towards the drug store, I held on to the note that was scribbled on the torn piece of envelope, like I was afraid a strong wind would come by and blow it out of my hand. Lexalls was one of the last stores left in the neighborhood that allowed kids under the age of eighteen to buy cigarettes, as long as they had a note from their parent (never mind the fact that a drugstore even sold cigarettes). In the court of law, however, the note wouldn't have made much of a difference, because selling cigarettes to minors had become illegal years earlier. Nevertheless, my mother still wrote the note each time she sent me to the store to buy them.

The note read:

Please allow my daughter to purchase a pack of Kool filter king cigarettes.

Thank you, Delores Washington.

Lexalls drug store was the first store on a block that was lined with several other small businesses.

From the direction I was coming from, there was a laundromat on the corner, and next door to the laundromat was Jays candy store. Next door to Jays was Pars liquor store. And next to Pars was my destination, Lexalls drug store.

"What's up lil' ma?" a familiar gruff voice asked.

I never understood why folks loved to hang out in front of the liquor store, especially first thing in the morning. Standing in front of Pars was Shorty and three other drunk looking dudes who lived in the neighborhood, whose names I never knew. I only knew Shorty's name because he would come by the house sometimes when my stepfather needed cheap laborers for a construction job.

"Hey y'all", I responded, quickening my pace, feeling them staring at me as I walked past them.

"Dag girl you gettin' big," Shorty said, staring straight at my breasts. I just nodded in agreement and kept on walking. Dirty bastard, I thought.

I walked into the store and handed the cashier the note mama wrote.

"Hey baby," she said with a wide grin exposing a shiny gold tooth.

"How you doin'?" I responded in my most grown up voice. I had just started my senior year of high school, and I didn't want anybody thinking I was still a little girl, although I was only seventeen.

"A pack of Kool filter kings please ... I don't know why my mama keeps sending me up here with these notes. She knows I'm old enough to buy cigarettes, I'ma be eighteen next week," I said, lying through my teeth, even though my eighteenth birthday was less than a month away.

"Well, she doin' right ... we can't sell 'em to you 'til you eighteen exactly," she said, handing me the brown paper bag with the cigarettes, like what she was doing was actually legal.

On my way out, I noticed a black Oldsmobile parked right out front of the drugstore, and in the driver seat was the finest boy I had ever seen in my life.

"What's up Shawty?" he said, with a wink and a smile.

"Hey," was all I could manage to say, because my lips felt like they were paralyzed.

Damn ... why I have to be so shy, I thought. In my daydreams I was way more aggressive, and always had something slick to say back to the boys that flirted with me. In reality, I picked up my pace and was at the other corner before I knew it.

I was half-way home before I realized the store clerk didn't give me mama's aspirin.

"Damn"

I knew I had to go back, because she would have a fit if I didn't bring back the medicine. Mama had what I called a "two pack-a-day habit". She smoked a pack of cigarettes a day, and had to have a pack of aspirins a day. I don't know why she just didn't buy enough to last her the week, instead of sending one of us to the store everyday.

Man, I hope dude is still up there ... maybe I'll get up the nerve to say something to him, I thought.

"Yeah right," I said aloud and laughed.

As I turned the corner on the way back to the drugstore, three cop cars flew down 100th street like they were on a high speed chase. They did a U-turn in front of the drugstore where the Oldsmobile was parked just a few minutes earlier.

Shorty was still standing in front of the liquor store, as I walked past. He had his hands up to his mouth like he was preventing himself from telling something incriminating.

"Damn girl, you just missed it!" he finally blurted out. They just robbed Lex's. I guess having missing front teeth made it difficult for Shorty to pronounce Lexalls correctly.

"You lucky you wasn't still in there," he continued.

"Who did?" I asked.

"Them lil' young cats that was in that '98. You lucky you wasn't in there," Shorty said again.

"Did anybody get hurt?" I asked in a concerned voice.

"Naw," replied one of the little shorties that had been riding around on his bike when I came to the store the first time.

"Miss Lou just been cryin' but they didn't shoot her," the boy said.

I was about to ask who the heck Miss Lou was, but then I remembered that was what everybody called the store clerk at Lexalls. I turned around and started walking back in the direction I had just come from. In my neighborhood, you don't hear or see nothing, especially if it doesn't concern you.

"She saw him, she was in the store right befo' he come in," I heard a familiar voice shout.

That voice was followed by a deep, throaty sounding man's voice.

"Excuse me Miss, can I ask you a few questions?"

I turned around to see an officer walking towards me with a pen and paper, waving for me to come over and talk to him.

"Um, I was on my way home when it happened ... so I really didn't see anything."

"You don't recall seeing anyone entering the store on your way out?" the officer quizzed.

"Tell 'em baby if you seen anybody, don't be afraid," Miss Lou pleaded. "They done cleaned out the whole cash drawer. ... oh Lawwwd!" she clapped her hands over her face, and burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry Miss Lou. I just wasn't paying any attention."

This was one of the times I wished I had been daydreaming, so I wouldn't have been lying about not seeing the fine ass dude sitting in the car as I left out of the store. I really hadn't seen anyone else come in the store while I was there, though.

The officer handed me a card.

"You call me if you remember anything later that may be able to help us catch who did this, okay?"

"Okay, I will," I said to the officer and started walking home, eager to get away from the crime scene.

When I walked in the door, my stepfather Eddie was sitting in the living room in his big beige reclining chair with his feet up. He was dirty like he had just come from a construction job, and had the top of his dirty t-shirt in his mouth, and one of his hands down his pants.

"Where the hell you been?" he asked bitterly.

"I went to the store to get mama some cigarettes and aspirin."

"It only take ten minutes to walk to the store and back, and I been sittin' here for over half an hour, so, I'ma ask you one mo' time ... where you been?"

I shared with him the story about how I forgot the aspirin and went back to the store to get it, and how some boys had just robbed the drugstore. I even showed him the card that the policeman gave me with the number to call him if I remembered anything about the crime.

None of that mattered to him. He glared at me intensely like I was being interrogated, and he was waiting on a crack in my alibi.

"If I find out you lyin', I'ma beat you like you stole something'," he muttered and turned away to watch the television, never once letting go of the dirty t-shirt he had clamped between his teeth.

Simply put, I hated him.

Sometimes he could be so cool, playing and joking with my brother and sister and me, and then at other times he was a straight up monster. I took comfort in knowing he wasn't my biological father, but unfortunately my brother and sister couldn't say the same. Even though they were his biological kids, he mistreated us all the same. Mama acted like she was scared of him and wouldn't ever take up for us. We were on our own when it came to defending ourselves. I dreamt of the day I would move out of his house and as far away from him as possible.

The phone rang, as I walked into the kitchen to give mama her cigarettes.

I heard him answer the phone, and say to whoever was on the other end, "Damn, straight up? My daughter just told me that shit ... boy, these lil' motherfuckers out here is ruthless, that's why I keep my pistol on me ... yeah, I'ma' shoot the shit out of one of they lil' asses if they run up on me ..."

He had a lot of nerve repeating what I told him about the robbery, when he didn't even believe me. After he hung up, he never apologized for accusing me of lying.

"Michelle, bring me a glass of cold water," he yelled from the living room.

As I walked with the glass of water in my hand, I thought about spitting in it just like Celie did to the glass of water she gave to Harpo's father in the Color Purple. I quickly erased the thought ... it was just too disgusting to do even to him.

I felt bad the rest of the day. I clearly remembered the guy's face that was sitting in the car outside the drugstore. He was so attractive, how could I forget it, and the fact that he was a "bad boy" intrigued me even more. I laid down that night, and began fantasizing that I was his girl.

CHAPTER 2

"MICHELLE! Wake up before you late for school," mama shouted.

I quickly got dressed, and left out the house before Eddie's crazy ass woke up. Lord only knew what mood he would be in that morning.

When I arrived at school and walked into the classroom, every head turned to see who had walked in late. I hated being late for school, because I hated drawing attention to myself. Even though people had always told me I was a pretty girl- mostly family and close friends, I was extremely insecure with my physical appearance. I believed I had a pretty face, but felt awkward in my own body. I was tall and skinny with breasts that seemed too big for my wiry frame. Most of the other girls my age had ample butts and budding breasts. For those that didn't have naturally large breasts, it was only a matter of going to the mall and buying the new "push-up" bra to make theirs look twice as big. The guys loved these girls, especially the ones who knew how to "work it" and who looked like grown women. Even though my breasts were a nice size, I was just too shy to show them off, and wouldn't find out the advantages, and disadvantages of having them until later.

Some of my friends would cut class occasionally, and go across the street to the park field house to smoke weed. I tried one time, and one time only to smoke weed, and boy when I did, it felt like a nine hundred pound elephant had plopped down on my chest.

"Call the ambulance," I recalled struggling to say. "I can't breathe," I kept panting between gulping in deep breaths of air.

I remembered that the two friends I was with were in tears, laughing their asses off at me. I was so mad, that I cussed both of them out when I finally caught my breath. They just laughed even harder, which ultimately triggered my own uncontrollable laughter.

I was just a lame, and had accepted my "lameness".

In school, I was an "A" and "B" student for as long as I could remember, and had always known that I wanted to attend college. In my mind, the farther away I moved the better, so I had recently applied to several out of town universities. Even though I wanted to get as far away from home as possible, I knew I would miss my mother, brother and sister. I always fantasized about starting over once I got away, beginning with getting rid of the "squeaky clean, good girl" image that I was known for.

My best friend Rochelle shared in my plans to leave after graduation, and we decided that we would go to whatever college accepted us both.

Rochelle was my "ace boon coon". We met the first day of high school and were inseparable from that day. Rochelle was light-skinned, and a little on the heavy side. She had long, wavy black hair that she kept in a ponytail most of the time. Her sultry eyes were a beautiful hazel color, which was the first thing that dudes usually noticed about her, and she knew just how to make them work to her advantage. I admired the fact that Rochelle was really outgoing. She wasn't real popular, but she could definitely hold her own at school. She probably gained what popularity she did have, from her older brother, Ricky Ross. When people found out that her brother was a star quarterback at one of the other high schools in the city, it gave Rochelle a name around school ... "Big Rick's little sister", as people referred to her as. Practically everybody at all the high schools in the city knew of Big Rick, and the more popular he became, the more Rochelle capitalized on that popularity. Whatever the case, there wasn't a shy bone in that girl's body, and I liked to say that our personalities complimented each other.

I was just a little bit jealous of Rochelle though, because she had known who she was taking to prom since her sophomore year of high school. She had been dating this thuggish type of guy named Donald, for over two years.

Even though her parents were extremely strict, Rochelle was not a virgin like I was. It seemed like the day she turned eighteen, she thought she was more grown than the rest of us who had later birth dates. She had already had sex. I knew this because I was there when she broke her virginity.

I thought back to the one day at school when she asked me to cut seventh and eighth periods with her, to go over to the house of some boy she had just met. She had met him at one of her brother's football games, and didn't want to go by herself because she thought he might try something. Of course, I couldn't let my girl go out like that, so I agreed to cut classes and go with her.

We caught the bus to Donald's house, which thankfully was only about fifteen minutes away from my house. This was good in case Eddie was timing me getting home from school, as he so often did. I wished he had a real job like everybody else, so I could time when he would be home.

When we got to Donald's house, Rochelle knocked on the front door.

"If he don't come in a minute, we just gonna leave," she said, almost impatiently.

She was acting like she was afraid to see him or something. I just nodded my head ok. As much as she talks about this boy, he had better be here, I thought. I had to meet the guy who had seemingly become part of our every discussion. I could ask Rochelle, "How's the weather?" and she would probably respond, "It's nice out, but Donald said I will need a jacket", or, I might ask, "Did you do your homework yet?" and her response would be, "I finished it while I was on the phone talking to Donald".

The girl couldn't even use the bathroom without talking about Donald.

Donald swung open the front door as if he heard what Rochelle had just said.

"Why you bring a third wheel?" he asked sarcastically, when he saw that I was with her.

"Shut up boy, and let us in," Rochelle snapped, and then smiled at Donald flirtatiously.

Donald didn't seem the least bit amused. He looked at me like he was really pissed off.

"You can go in the front room and watch t.v. I need to holla' at your girl for a minute." He pointed towards the other room where there was a huge floor model television pushed against the wall.

"You smoke weed?" he asked me dryly.

"Naw," I said, "where's the remote?"

"A third wheel, and she a nerd," I heard Donald say to Rochelle as he led her upstairs.

"Don't be talkin' about my girl, I asked her to come," Rochelle shot back.

(Continues...)

---

Excerpted from It Was All a Dream by Latisha Smith Howze. Copyright © 2016 Latisha Smith Howze. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---