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Chapter 1 Prayer Does Work.............................9Chapter 2 Expresser of Emotion.........................21Chapter 3 Matter of Fact...............................35Chapter 4 Whatever I Got...............................47Chapter 5 Stranger Things Happened.....................59Chapter 6 Worrier by Default...........................73Chapter 7 Observer of Drama............................87Chapter 8 Madder Each Moment...........................97Chapter 9 Wiser through Visiting.......................109Chapter 10 Never Work Out...............................121Chapter 11 Better than Before...........................133Chapter 12 Believer Deep Within.........................143Acknowledgments.........................................155Discussion Questions....................................157Believing in t-lope Excerpt.............................161
Get out! Me and my kids need some space. I'm sick of everybody trying to console us. Leave us alone." My mom was screaming at the thirty or so friends and family members that came to offer their condolences after the funeral of my oldest brother, Jeffery Jr. Everybody called him Jeff.
Everyone stopped and looked at her. However, no one moved or walked toward the door. The tension was thicker than a plump, round turkey on Thanksgiving.
"Mom, here. Have some tea," I said, trying to soothe her.
She knocked the cup from my hand sending it flying across the room. I'd never seen my mother this way.
Mom went over to the front door, opened it, and said, "Yasmin, York, Yancy, and I are going to have to find a way to deal with this. My husband is down in Orlando in jail, while we're up here in Jacksonville grieving over the loss of my oldest baby. I just don't need no busybodies coming up in here poking around. I know that most of you mean well, but right now we just need to be left alone."
Everyone quickly scurried to pick up their belongings, except my Uncle John. He was my dad's younger brother. Mom's steaming red eyes followed my uncle. He went over to my brother Yancy.
Uncle John put his hand on Yancy's shoulder and said, "Son, I need you to step up and be the man."
Yancy looked at my uncle with sad eyes and said, "Okay, Uncle John."
My mom yelled to my uncle, "If your brother had been the man, then my boys wouldn't be under so much pressure!"
"Yvette, come on now, girl. I'm just trying to do my brother's part and look out for y'all."
"John, if your brother wasn't locked up he could do his own part. Like I said, I'm tired and I just need you to leave."
"Okay, okay, Yvette," Uncle John said as he headed toward the door. "Remember, I'm only one phone call away."
As soon as Uncle John had closed the door, my brother Yancy blurted out, "I wish I could go and live with Uncle John!"
"Boy, if you don't go sit down somewhere ..." my mother said.
My brothers went to their room while my mom went to the bedroom that she and I shared. I couldn't bear to sit inside our cramped apartment for one more second, so I went and sat on the porch.
It had been a week since my brother had taken his own life. Though things weren't perfect before Jeff's death, we had a lot of good times. We were a normal family. Now, I didn't know what we had become.
A new school year was about to begin in a couple of days and Jeff had so much going for himself. He would've started his senior year in high school-a highly recruited basketball player, one of the best in the state of Florida. All the girls liked him, but he had a strong thing going for our next-door neighbor Jada. Her brother, Myrek, was my good friend.
York, Yancy, and Yasmin. The triplets. People always asked, "What are the triplets up to? How are the triplets doing in school?" I hated being referred to as if we didn't have names and different personalities. All of us are unique, but one thing we had in common was that we all looked up to Jeff. I had no clue how we'd survive without him. I hadn't shed a tear during this whole chaotic week. My mom cried enough for all of us. York had become so angry that he was just looking for a way to relieve the craziness. Yancy was withdrawn and walked around in a daze.
Was I supposed to be the one to keep us all together? How could I? I was only a mere thirteen-year-old, headed to the eighth grade. I wasn't anywhere close to being an adult. What did I know about how to make things right? We hardly ever went to church; but my grandma, or Big Mama, as my brothers and I called her, had taught us that we should pray and have faith no matter how bad things looked.
I wanted to believe deep down in my heart that God could make this not hurt so badly. But why wasn't He making this all better? Why couldn't I wake up from this nightmare? I had no answers, just tons of questions.
I placed my severely aching head between my wobbly knees and finally released all my tears that I'd been holding back, and I prayed.
Lord, please help my family. We don't know what to do or how to keep going. I want to believe the verse that Big Mama taught me about You, which says for me to trust in You with my whole heart and not lean to what I don't understand. But it's so hard to trust when it looks so bad, God.
Just then I heard a familiar voice. It was Myrek.
Most people call me a tomboy because I would hang out with my three brothers a lot. I usually play with the neighborhood boys too, but all summer I hadn't run with them like I used to. Actually, Myrek hadn't been playing with York and Yancy as much either. He was a great basketball player like Jeff and the two of them had been on the court most of the summer. I knew he would miss my brother as much as we would.
"Yasmin, I just came out here to sit with you."
"Thanks," I said as I wiped my face.
He continued, "I really don't know what to say. But my dad says that you don't always have to find words to say when something bad happens. Sometimes you can help people by just being with them."
"I guess that's true, Myrek, because I do feel better," I said, thinking about how I was praying when he came onto the porch.
"Cool," he said.
For the next thirty minutes we didn't say a thing. We were content just sitting in silence, occasionally looking at the sky.
* * *
I used to not care that on the first day of school I didn't have the latest clothes or sport the freshest hairdo. Going to school was all about learning, not trying to be fashionable. But as an eighth grader, somehow things had changed. Somewhere along the summer the things that once didn't matter now did.
* * *
Besides, with all that I had going on, it didn't seem right that I was focusing on material things. We didn't even have money to bury my brother. My mom had reminded Yancy, York, and me about that over and over again. Getting new school clothes was totally out of the question.
Actually, it was cool for boys to wear stuff a little roughed up, but when I looked around and saw all the girls looking fly, I hated me. My jeans that were purchased in the sixth grade and the hand-me-down tennis shoes that my brothers used to sport were a mess. Also, the braids I got before school...
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