Mary Williams - The Lost Daughter: A Memoir

ITD BEEN ABOUT A YEAR since Id last seen Deborah the night she fought with Daddy. After she ran away, Mama told us not to let her in the house if she came by. Deborah was deep into her crack addiction and Mama feared shed steal things if she got into the house when she wasnt there. I could tell my mother missed her because after she left, thats when she started drinking more than ever. But once Deborah left, it was like she was erased from our family. Aside from the caution not to let her in the house, her name was rarely mentioned. Overnight my big sister was out of my life, but it would be because of her that I would learn sooner than later that being female was a scary, helpless thing to be.

The first lesson came one weekend afternoon while I was home sitting on the porch. A man pulled into our driveway in a slick blue car thumping loud music. He rolled down his window and waved me over with a hand laden with thick gold rings. Even as he sat in his car I could see he was a big man, broad-shouldered and light-skinned. He was handsome and flashed a smile at me before he turned his music down and asked if Deborah was home.

She aint here, I told him.

Whats your name, sweetheart? he asked, looking me up and down. I knew the look. Every girl over ten knew that look. Although he hadnt laid a hand on me, that look made me want to run and hide. But I knew the worst thing I could do was show fear. Instinctively I crossed my arms over my tiny bosom and gave him my dirtiest look. The man pouted, tilted his head to the side, and looked up at me with puppy eyes. He knew hed spooked me, but that Mr. Innocent look he gave me only made him look even creepier.

If she aint here, can you tell me where she at? he asked, giving me a full smile with big horsey teeth. His goofy smile reminded me of Mr. Ed, a talking horse in one of my favorite TV shows, and I smiled despite my unease. He took my smile as an invitation and reached his hand out to me. I backed away and could not have been more startled if his hand were a dead rat.

She aint here! I said, trying to sound unafraid while edging my way back up onto the porch and near the front door should I need to run inside. He changed tactics.

If you tell me where she is, Ill give you a dollar.

A dollar was a lot of money to me and the prospect of getting it was tempting. I didnt know where Deborah was but I wasnt averse to telling him a fib to get that dollar.

Give me the dollar first! I said with my hand on my hip, trying to look tough.

He laughed.

Come get in the car. Ride with me to the store so I can get change. I only got twenties, he said, pulling out his wallet and tilting it slightly toward me so that I could see it was stuffed with bills. When I saw all that money, I felt my eyes bug out far enough to pop loose and roll down the street.

He reached a hand out toward me again, wriggling his fingers in a way that made me think of serpent tongues. When I hesitated, he opened the car door and began to get out. That did it. Something deep within me said Run! It was an instinctual fear as clear and undeniable as the fear of snakes or the fear of falling. This man was a predator and I knew as sure as I knew my own name that if I got in the car, I wouldnt get a dollar. Id get a world of hurt I was unlikely to recover from. I dropped any pretense of being unafraid and ran into the house and locked the door.

Once inside the house behind a locked door, I peeked out at the man through a crack in the curtains. He was leaning against his car and was digging in his jacket for what I saw was a cigarette and a book of matches. I watched him light the cigarette, and by the way he smoked itholding it tightly between his thumb and index finger and sucking on it with his face all squinched up like a fistI knew it was dope.

Get out of here! I said under my breath, willing him to burst into flames or get beamed up to a hostile planet somewhere in another galaxy. Instead he lingered in the driveway and took his time smoking the joint before he got in his car and disappeared down the street. It angered me that I couldnt make that man go away when I wanted him to. He could have hurt me and been sure the police would not be called. Even for people who were not ex-Panthers, it was rare to call on the police for help. I knew my greatest defense was to show no fear. When Mama came home, I told her about the man. She said she thought he might have been Deborahs pimp and that I did the right thing by locking myself in the house.

Many months later I was home alone playing Pac-Man when I heard pounding on the front door. I was so startled I dropped the joy stick. A pounding like that could only mean the police or somebody looking to settle a score. I sat quietly, with my heart beating in my throat waiting for whoever it was to go away. After what felt like minutes it did not stop, so I crept into the living room and peeked out the window. I saw a skinny woman in a tube top and tight jeans hammering the door, all the while staring furtively over her shoulder. It took a moment for me to register that it was my sister Deborah. She was at least twenty pounds underweight. Her cheekbones were protruding and her eyes were sunken.

I cracked the door open using my foot to keep her from pushing her way in.

Open the door, Lawanna! she said, trying to push the door open.

Mama aint here. She say you cant come in if she aint here.

I could see that my sister was scared of something but I was even more scared of what Mama would do to me if she found out I let Deborah inside.

Let me in, baby girl! Somebody is trying to get me!

I stepped aside and let her in, and she quickly locked the door. She turned to me and said, If a man comes looking for me, dont tell him Im here. Then she ran to the back bedroom and closed the door.

Within a minute there was another round of furious knocking on the door. I cracked the door again using my foot as a doorjamb and I was relieved to see a short, skinny man instead of the big pimp from before. The scrawny guy was trying to see past me into the house.

Whatchu want? I asked.

Deborah! I saw her come in here, he said, now trying to push the door open.

I pushed back.

She aint here, now get the fuck off our porch!

The man suddenly pushed the door with all his might, sending me across the room and onto the couch. He walked right in like he owned the place, opening the door to the downstairs bathroom and violently pulling back the shower curtain. I didnt have sense enough to be afraid. I still had a little bit of tomboy in me telling me that I was fearless and fully capable of defending myself from most dangers. So I trailed behind the man, cursing him out as he searched our house.

He ignored me and continued his search. When he reached the bedroom in the back where Deborah was hiding, he opened the door and saw her. He stepped into the room and closed the door in my face. I was about to enter behind him when I heard an awful sound that stopped me in my tracks and sent my tomboy spirit running for cover. I heard the sickening thud of a fist violently colliding with flesh over and over again. He was beating my sister and I could hear her grunts as she took the blows.

After a minute or two, he came out of the room breathing hard and rubbing his fist. I shrank away from him, suddenly realizing that I too was in danger. That I was in danger the minute he pushed his way into the house. I was only spared because he was so focused on finding my sister.

The man seemed not to notice me now that his mission was complete, and I was relieved to see him walk out the front door. I locked the door behind him and went to check on my sister. She was just getting up from the floor when I came into the room and I helped her to stand. I noticed her arms were just bones when I gripped her upper arm. Her face was just beginning to bruise up, her nose bleeding, and she was holding her stomach.