REVUES GALORE PRESENTS … DA REVIEWERS NEWSLETTER | Issue # 1
11
Ex-Communication: an HBCU Love Story Gone Wrong # ComingSeptember2016
When I graduated high school and enrolled in college, I transformed into a different person. After receiving cum laude at William Fisher High school, I was accepted in ten different universities, three being HBCUs so the decision to enroll in Berrin-McKinney College( BMC) came easy.
I’ m Sabrielle Russell, an eighteenyear-old born and raised in Hallandale, FL. Moving across the US to Houston, Texas would be a challenge for me and my best friend, ChaRonda Posey. We’ ve been friends since second grade and been through just about everything together. She was there when my stepdad was beating my mother; she was there when my mother killed my stepdaddy. She was there when I had nowhere to go and no family to live with once my mom became incarcerated. ChaRhonda, or Char, was everything any friend could ask for: loyal and non-judgmental. Going to college together would make the transition easier.
Life already was hard; I didn’ t need college to be any worse. I was raised by my mother until age eleven, when she was sentenced to prison for manslaughter of the third degree. She was given a ten-year sentence, and would was set to be released when I turned twenty-one, if she was let go earlier for good behavior. I had little to no memories with her with the exception of the last night we were together.
Christmas music was playing in the background as my mother combed and brushed my hair for Christmas Eve’ s big family dinner tomorrow. Grandma Valerie and my aunties came into town to help us celebrate. Mom sat and hummed to the music as she did my hair.“ I love you, mommy,” I told her. She smiled.“ I love you too, Bri, but you’ re still not opening any gifts until tomorrow night,” she replied with laughter.
I laughed because I knew she wouldn’ t fall for it. My mom started cooking Christmas dinner yesterday. She made her famous signature red velvet cheesecakes and they sold out every year. I was ready to eat everything; I hated the long wait. While laughing and joking, we heard keys in the front door. I felt my mom tense up. I looked at her and cringed, bothered that he came home.
“ Jeri! Jeri! Have you cooked dinner?” Dave yelled as he staggered in the house.
My mom breathed deeply.“ It’ s in the microwave, Dave.” She continued brushing my hair and humming to the music.
Dave staggered closer and blinked his eyes.“ So you not gone fix it?” he said through slurred words.
“ Dave, the plate is already fixed; just hit one minute on microwave and it’ ll reheat.” She didn’ t flinch or move.
Dave got angry because he couldn’ t distract my mom like he wanted to. Next thing I remember is Dave charging my mom with murder on his face. I grew scared.
“ Move out the way, baby,” my mom advised. I looked at her through teary eyes and shook my head‘ no’.
“ Do as I say, Bri.” I quickly got up and retreated to the corner of the living room, huddled down and crying.
Dave ran up to my mom and slapped her.“ Bitch didn’ t I tell you to stop getting slick out of the mouth? Wham!
Jeri held her cheek as she looked at Dave in horror.“ Don’ t put your hands on me again, Dave.”
I never heard mommy talk in that tone towards this Dave guy. I was still crying and scared that he’ d continue hitting her.
Dave grabbed my mom by the neck and threw her on the couch.“ What did you just say, you filthy, disrespectful bitch?” Dave pounced on my mother and started wailing on her.
“ Leave my momma alone,” I yelled as I ran up and hit him with my tea set table’ s chair.“ Aarrgghh! Come here you little bitch!” Dave yelled.
“ No! Leave her alone. Leave her alone, Dave,” my momma yelled. She got up, pulled up the couch cushion and grabbed her. 38.“ Let me go, let me go,” I screamed as I tried to break free.
Pow. Pow.
Dave let me go and dropped to the ground, clutching his chest. The bullet pierced him from the back and came thru his rib cage. He gasped for air as his eyes closed slowly. Minutes later, I heard sirens quickly approaching.
“ Momma! Momma!” I yelled. I ran and hugged her tightly. She stood in tears as she consoled me.
“ Baby, the police gone take yo’ mama away. Listen to me, don’ t you let no man put you through what I been through,” she said through her tears. She hugged me tighter.
“ Where you going, mama? Where?” I asked, crying like a baby.“ Police, freeze!” the officer yelled. My momma looked at them then back at me.“ Never let a man put his hands on you, baby girl.” Momma kissed me all over my face.
The police filed into our house and used their walkie talkies to call an ambulance.“ Ma’ am. Please step back, drop the gun and put your hands up!” the officer yelled.
My momma did as she was told. She hugged me one last time and backed away with her hands raised. I didn’ t know where I’ d go or who I’ d live with.
“ Momma, momma, please don’ t leave me,” I begged.
I watched the police put my momma in handcuffs and take her to the back of the car. All I could do was watch. She looked at me and cried harder.
“ Don’ t let a man put his hands on you,” she reminded as she got in the car and the arresting officer pulled off. I cried for what seemed like forever. I didn’ t know what tomorrow would bring but I knew it would be a long time before I saw my momma again. I just hoped I made her proud.
I wiped a tear from my eye and smiled. My mother sent me a letter last week, informing me that she was going up for parole review. I hoped and prayed that she’ d be released before my freshmen year was over. It was no way I wanted to graduate college if she couldn’ t witness it. I finished packing my belongings and mentally prepared for the arrival at BMC.