First Place - "Cost of Our Affairs" ($500)
Linda R. Herman, Cordele, GA
Second Place - "Black Is Beautiful" ($250)
Sonia Kennedy, Chicago, IL
Third Place - "The Brotherhood - The Belt" ($125)
Delisa D. Robinson, Buffalo, NY
Cost of Our Affairs, Linda R. Herman, Cordele, GA
Everything had happened so fast. The lights were blinding me. The sirens had deafened me. I felt my husband's hot blood on my hands and face. There was so much blood. Oh my God! Antoine! I hear my own voice in my head. Does anyone else hear me?
"Antoine!" I scream as I fall to the ground.
"Mrs. Jonier? Mrs. Joiner are you okay?" A deep voice asks repeatedly.
My mouth is open but I can't find the words. I hear myself gasping for breath. I feel hot tears stream down my face. There is a tightning pain in my stomach.
After several moments I finally manage to ask, "How is my husband? Where is he?"
A short, stout black officer helps pull me back to my feet. My head is spinning. My stomach is weak. He wraps his arms around my shoulders when my knees buckle and threaten to send me back to the pavement.
"Do you need to sit for a moment longer?" He asks gently.
I shake my head and say, "Take me to my husband. I need to see my husband."
"Mrs. Jonier, they are doing all they can for your husband. He's in bad shape. "
"Sir, please, take me to my husband."
Black is Beautiful, Sonia Kennedy, Chicago, IL
As Daddy-O-Daylie, the radio announcer, announced that Sam Cooke had been killed, it seemed that at the same time the phone and the door bell were ringing.
"Girl, open up!" Dessie's voice rang out from the other side of the door. I was still trying to absorb what I had just heard on the radio and I was in no mood to hear the latest gossip from Dessie, who would probably half tell the story anyway.
"I'm coming let me grab my robe." Lord whatever she has to say let her be quick about it. It was one thing to be a gossip, but another to be long-winded. By the time Dessie got through with a story, you didn't want to talk to anyone else for at least 2 hours. Literally you needed a nap after talking to her. I took a deep breath as I opened the door to let Ms. Bagpipes in.
"Did you hear? Did you hear?"
"Hear what?" I said. I wanted her to get to the point and be quick about whatever she had to say, so I could find out what had happened to "Mr. Smooth." "Mr. Smooth" was the nickname I had given Sam Cooke. His voice was like sugar, fine yet grainy, and sweet all the time. When he sang, I definitely melted. Simple words, but powerful nevertheless. As Dessie was talking, "Hey, Hey the Gangs All Hear" began to play. As I shushed Dessie, I went to the kitchen to turn the radio up. I thought, how, what happened? Then the phone began ringing again. Who could this be?
It was too early in the morning for all of this. I needed something to wake me up as I was trying to take everything in. Dessie, who by now, knew that if she said another word, she was out the door, had taken a seat on the couch and was sitting with her arms crossed, as if she were holding herself, listening to the radio. That was a first, seeing Dessie sitting quietly anywhere. Tyrell often joked that she had a nervous condition. As I laughed to myself, the phone rang again. I prayed that it wasn't Tyrell. I was in no mood to talk to him right now, not after our argument last night. I finally answered after the sixth ring, but before I could get a good hello out, my sister Viola's voice rang out.
THE BROTHERHOOD: THE BELT, Delisa D. Robinson, Buffalo, NY
Every once in a while you have to learn to keep secrets. Sometimes you have to learn to keep the secrets of others and sometimes they are your own secrets and you just can’t reveal them to anyone. That’s what I do, I keep secrets. Y’all know what they say, “the best kept secret is the one that is never told.” I don’t tell anyone about the hell that life dealt me or the drama within my house walls. My girls know, but that’s it. I keep it all bottled up inside. One day I will explode and everyone will wonder what happened to make her do that. I feel my rage just bubbling under so that I don’t set anyone off. I keep having these visions of me doing evil things. I have evil thoughts quite often and I haven’t acted on any of them as of yet. I know that day is coming soon.
“Carmen!” Now see that is Faye calling me out of my reverie to listen to some more of her dumb shit. I love her; I don’t like her. As a matter of fact I hate to see her ass coming, but she is my mother and I have to show some respect to the institution of motherhood, I guess. You know how Mary J. said, “If you look at my life and see what I’ve seen.” That song describes me to a tee right now. Just fucking miserable and counting down the days until I can get up out this piece and spread my wings so to speak.
“Carmen! I know you hear me calling you.” Yeah, bitch I heard you, but that don’t mean I’m about to jump up a do what the hell you want me to do. That’s what I want to say, but instead I reply, “Yeah, Ma. Whatcha want?” She don’t want shit. She just wants to know what I am doing and how long I’ve been home. She wants to know this because her crack head ass was suppose to pick me up from work at midnight and she was no where to be found. So, she really just wants to know how long I have been home and how did I get here. After I answer all of her questions she tells me not to tell Papa that she didn’t come get me from work. Now I know she trippin’ because I haven’t forgot that she stole money from me last week. The ass whipping she got from Papa that day was enough to let me now what time it really was around this camp. I use to help her ass out when her boyfriends used to fight her, but Papa was her father, what was I suppose to do, especially when that chick stole my money. Oh hell naw. It was so over for her. I started arguing with her as soon as I came in the house and saw one of my withdrawal slips on the table. See my aunt work at the bank and I would often call her to withdraw money for me if I couldn’t get to the bank before it closed. Well Faye decided to call her and withdraw money from my savings account. Yeah, I know what y’all thinking and I was thinking it too. You are wondering why I didn’t knock her ass out. Well that is because I knew Papa would do it. See Papa is my grandfather. You would think I was his child the way he treats me. And truth be told I love that old man. Lately I have begun to realize that he is the only one that has my back around here. Faye is too strung out to even notice me half the time. So it’s Papa to the rescue every time.
