Kemisha L. Swan - Untouchable Flame: A Memoir of a Young Girls Hardship and Trying to Survive Through the Foster Care System

Untouchable
Flame

A Memoir Of a young girls hardship and
Trying to Survive through The Foster Care System

Kemisha L. Swan

AuthorHouse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: 1-800-839-8640

2012 by Kemisha L. Swan. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any
means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/10/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-9826-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-9825-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-9824-7 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012908480

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are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this
book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed
in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the
publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

First Time Meeting
The Taylors

All it takes is Time
and Patience

This book is dedicated to my Grandmother Lillian May Swan who never got to tell what happened on that fatal day

This is a memoir. Though they are in truth what I experienced; they may not coincide with what others depicted in the story experienced or remember. Therefore, in consideration of that fact and in the interest of protecting identities and privacy, I have changed relationships, names, cities, states, and businesses. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

M ama could sense that something was wrong with me. Mimi! she yelled, standing by the dark brown, chipped door that led up from the basement. Why is it that every time I come upstairs I see you with your ear up against that damn door? Little girl, if you dont go somewhere and play I am going to spank yo black ass.

I knew Mama was just running her mouth again because she never spanked me. How could she when she was never home? Most of the time, Mama would be gone for weeks leaving Granny to take care of all four of her children. Yet, I did as Mama said.

Instead of following Mama into the basement where I heard my cousins, Tony, Cody, and the twins, Latay and Nicky playing, I went into the kitchen. I was pretending to look inside the refrigerator which never had more than a loaf of bread and a jar of mayonnaise.

I made sure Mama was all the way down the stairs and in the basement before I tried listening again for my brother Devons voice. He had gone inside that room moments before Mama threatened to spank my black ass.

I quietly tiptoed back to the door and pressed my small, dark ear against it to listen for the sound of my brothers voice again. But I couldnt hear him. I could only hear the music coming from the radio,

Billie Jean is not my lover. Shes just a girl who claims that I am the one, but the kid is not my son.

Usually when I heard Michael Jackson singing on the radio I would stand in front of the mirror pretending as though Michael and I were on stage singing together, moon-walking across the stage, showing off our shiny white and black glittery gloves. Not this time. My main focus was finding out if my brother was okay. Was he was afraid like I was every time I went inside that room?

I kept pressing my ear harder and harder against the door, hearing only Michael Jackson again.

People always told me to be careful of what you do and dont go around breaking young girls hearts . . .

Finally, after about twenty seconds I heard something else besides Michael singing. It was Mamas big, loud voice again.

Mimi! she shouted. Didnt I tell you to get away from that damn door? You are so fucking hard headed. Come here little girl!

Mama grabbed the back of my neck and squeezed it hard, sinking her index finger and thumb into the sides of my neck.

I was wondering if she was going to spank me like she said. Instead she directed me into the kitchen and pushed me down on the only chair in the room; the chair that was half standing against the wall with only one black, metal leg. The chair that decided who it would allow to let sit on it, based on how much you weighed. If you were over 80 pounds, BOOM! down you went onto the floor. No one trusted this chair besides my cousin, Cody and I. Many times I found myself sitting in this chair listening to Granny praying and singing gospel songs while trying to make a meal out of nothing.

Mimi! Mama screamed. What the hell is wrong with you little girl?

I looked at Mama as tears began to soak into my tiny eyes. It felt like the inside of my body was swelling up like a balloon filled with steaming hot water. Little drops of sweat began to roll down my face. I was debating whether or not I should tell Mama what had been going on while she and Daddy were gone. But if I did, who was going to protect me when they left again?

Granny was always in and out of the hospital from having those seizures that made her shake. Nate, my step Grandfather come home drunk most days. Daddy is always in jail. Auntie Anne, Grannys oldest sister, who lives upstairs above Granny, wasnt concerned with anyone else but her children and grandchildren. Mamas side of the family lived two buses away.

Mamas voice becomes soft after noticing tears starting to slip down my dark brown cheeks. Mimi, whats going on with my baby?

I folded the bottom of my big lip, tucking it inside my hot mouth. I sat on the one legged chair like a stiff mummy, praying that it will give in at any given second. But no, in fact, it stood firmer then I had ever seen before. It stood there just like the Statue of Liberty. The same Statue of Liberty that hung inside Grannys room above her television.

Mimi! Mama said, with a concerned look on her face, Open your mouth and tell me what is wrong.

I knew Mama was not giving up. I felt like I had no other choice but to tell her what had been happening to her seven-year-old daughter while she was gone.

After I told Mama what nasty things Auntie Cece and Uncle Freddy had been making her seven-year-old daughter do to them, Mamas eyes went blank. She wrapped one hand over her mouth and began pacing back and forth across the kitchen floor.

Mimi. Mama whispered, trying not to let Auntie Cece hear her, not knowing that Michael Jackson was still yelling out that Billie Jean was not his lover. What did you just say ? she asked.

Before I could respond, Mama start walking faster across the kitchen floor with her hands wrapped around her curvy hips and tiny waist while talking to herself, When I see both of them, she said, I am going to beat the fuck out of Cece and Freddy! Dont you worry, baby.

I hold my head down. My tears drip onto my lap like waterfalls. My thoughts felt like a scattered puzzle. I was afraid for my safety because I know Mama would eventually leave us again. What were Auntie Cece and Uncle Freddy going to do to me now that Mama knew about this? The more I thought about what might happen, the more I wanted to disappear off the face of the earth.

Mama stopped pacing back and forth. She gently pulled me up from the one-legged black chair and gave me a tight hug, just like the hugs Granny always gave me.

Dont worry. Mama said, while squeezing my head up against her chest. Everything is going to be alright. But fear and confusion kept me from hugging Mama and feeling the way I do whenever Granny hugged me.

Mama had threatened to beat Auntie Ceces and Uncle Freddys fucking asses, but I couldnt understand why Mama didnt go right inside Auntie Ceces room, knowing that Devon, her eight-year-old son was in there. Instead, she grabbed my hand and led me down to the basement. We walked right past Auntie Ceces door. I wanted to break into Auntie Ceces room, grab my brother, and run away as far as we could. I hoped Mama had it under control. After tonight, my brother and I will not have to be afraid of Auntie Cece anymore. Mama was even going to stop Uncle Freddy from touching me all over my black body.