As near as I can recall, we moved to the oldest brother’s house in the late Spring of ’76. School had already let out for the year and there was no travelling to and from the westside to finish out the school year. Just me and lil’ brother fully enjoying a summer. At any rate, my brother, sister-in-law, and I discussed my then current predicament. After one of the most meaningful summers of my life, I enrolled in Pregnant Girls School (Simpson) in the Fall.
In December of ’76 my child was born at my brother’s house. I remember settling in, helping out and going to school. Then one day, we were informed that the landlady, Mrs. David, who lived upstairs, said there were too many people in her apartment. That was the Summer of ’77. And not only that, but by ’79, my brother and his wife had split up after a 10+ year run. However you look at it, the extra weight of the situation would have to be carried by me, the person who decided, however inadvertent to make the baby. We had to move back with Somebody. Again, the difference was like night and day. Back to the Westside Story. Now I was really grounded. I was the live-in maid. Someone there that cared if the house was straight. To cook if there was food in the house or to make do if there wasn’t. Things were just going from bad to worse. She was either sleep, gone, or at home and broke.
Still, after I had my child, she never touched me again. There were bouts of intimidation but don’t hit me. Then in September of ’77 she gave birth to her 2nd son. I did not keep her children when she went to the hospital to give birth. But with just me and my daughter there, I cleaned the place from top to bottom. We enjoyed our few days of solitude. By the end of 1977 we were on the verge of losing that place too.