Don’t Forget

And there goes Mama again, early Sunday morning, scrubbing the floors until they’re as clean as our diet, not that we had much groceries to choose from anyway. Rent always played the competitive edge in our small studio apartment, winning an award each time that grumpy old man stopped by with his gigantic ink pen and clipboard making beats singing; “Oh Mr. and Mrs. Hope, please don’t tell me we’re feeling hopeless again.” As he approached our front door, I could hear the neighbors laughing out loud from the opposite end of the hallway. “Hahaha well, would you look at them, all strung out on hope!” Some of their jokes were insulting, but we’d ignore them, even in passing. Mama would tell me to put my headphones on or go study on the chromebook. “We need a few extra weeks Mr. Banks; we are struggling during this pandemic,” I overheard Mama say. “I’ve been patient long enough Mr. and Mrs. Ho…wait, where is your husband? Let me guess, out looking for work again huh?”

As he spoke, I could smell his breath through his mask, kicking from across the living room, as if his odor had a black belt in Martial Arts. It was a strong stench of beer and garlic knots. Just like our rent, his toothbrush played a competitive edge, losing tremendously. I turned down the volume on my chromebook to listen as he tripped and slurred on his words. Oh how I wish my Papa was still here. He’d sort out this mess in a heartbeat!

“I can’t give you something I don’t have sir. You come here making jokes about us being broke and in need of hope, but we’ve been in need of repairs for years!” Mama says firmly. Mr. Banks then hands Mama a letter and walks away. She opened it and immediately trashed it, running straight towards the bathroom afterwards. I waited for about 5 minutes before reaching inside the trash to pull out the crumbled piece of paper. In bold, red letters I saw the word “EVICTION!”

I searched up the word on my chromebook and fell into complete shock thinking; “How could Mr. Banks do such a thing to us, especially during a pandemic? Does he not know how many families are suffering and grieving?” I felt the vibrations from Mama’s weeping shaking the floor. I could hear her on the phone crying out for help; crying out for Papa. I couldn’t help but think, “maybe Mr. Banks was right; maybe we are really hopeless this time.”

There was a long moment of silence before Mama exited the bathroom. “You alright Mama?” I ask, voice trembling from knowing the truth already. “Baby can’t nothing break your Mama spirit!” she said with a huge smile, eyes still watery. “Now go on and get dressed so we can pick out your favorite supper from the market.” I knew we barely had the money though. I knew deep down inside this meant, “Baby tonight may be our last night in this apartment, so let’s celebrate with your favorite meal and make best of these memories!”

As we waited for the elevator, I took a quick glimpse at a note tapped on the wall that read: “Missing Little Black Book.” At first I thought, “this is just some random advertisement from those bill collectors Mama warned me about,” so I redirected my focus, but this same note was posted all throughout the lobby and had tenants in an uproar. What is so mysterious about this book that makes everyone interested in it disappearing? I mean, everyone except Mama. We continued walking to the market and there it was again, that same note posted on the side of a mailbox. I got a closer look at it this time. It read: “Missing Little Black Book! If Found, Please Contact Moleskine! Reward: $20,000!”

My heart began to Usain Bolt. I couldn’t stop my thoughts from spinning. Was that $2,000 or $20,000 I just saw? My 20/20 vision couldn’t tell if it was a 2 or 20, but either way I knew it was money Mama could use to turn our rainy days sunny.

When we arrived at the market, no one was allowed to enter or exit. Security had the entire store on lockdown. A fight had broken out between two customers over what appeared to be the mysterious little black book. I’m not sure if the fight was over the book itself, or the reward for finding it, but either way Mama looked defeated. I could see her eyes grow watery again as she cussed herself. Mama never cusses herself. “It’s ok Mama” I say; “How about we go back home and I make you supper this time?” She bursts into tears, falling into my arms. “It’s not supposed to be this way. I’m so sorry baby. Mama’s sorry,” she cries.

A strange man in a black trench coat hurried over to ask me if Mama was ok. He moved so swiftly it’s almost like he was a ghost. Before I could answer he whispered; “everything you need is on page 7,” handed me a book, then walked away. I placed the little black book in my pocket and continued comforting Mama, wiping away her tears. “Come on my love, let’s go home.”

On our way back to “Mr. Banks property,” I felt a majestic flow of energy following us. “Everything you need is on page 7” kept replaying in my head. I was so anxious to pull the book out of my pocket, but didn’t want to attract any unnecessary attention. Mama was so far gone in her thoughts, but I had this strong feeling an unpredictable change was coming. As soon as we walked through the front door, I washed my hands and started prepping supper for Mama and I. She began to pack our family photos into boxes. She stared at the picture of her and Papa on their wedding day, kissed it, then placed it inside the box. As the water boiled on the stove, I went to the bathroom, took the little black book out of my pocket and flipped to page 7. In very fine print it read;

“Life without hope is just a dream,

Blood is thicker than Moleskine

Don’t forget your Queen

Don’t forget your chosen

Don’t forget you’re King

And always be vocal if it results in bringing change!”

It took me a while to understand the meaning, but one thing I can say is that it was very inspirational. The irony of the first line having hope in it, reminding me of who I am, not to forget Mama and to be vocal no matter the circumstances.

After we ate supper, Mama crashed immediately. I could tell she was exhausted after all that happened today. I stayed up late rereading page 7 thinking to myself, this was everything I needed. Maybe I’ll say this in the mirror every morning.

“Oh Mr. and Mrs. Hope, please don’t tell me we’re feeling hopeless again,” Mr. Banks starts singing bright and early the next day, but before he could reach our door, someone else rang the bell. Mama opened the door. I noticed the strange man in that black trench coat again. He handed Mama an envelope full of cash with a note, smiled and nodded at me, then walked away. The note read: “CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE WON THE REWARD.”