She had me there. But I had explained that to her weeks ago.

I said, “I already told you how selfish I am. We both know that already. But you fail to realize that there are men out there who are not selfish. So why get involved with us?”

“Because that’s all I fucking know is selfish-ass men!” she yelled through the phone at me. She said, “When was our father ever around? I’ve never even had a fucking hug from my father! Not even one hug!”

Damn! What could I say to that? I was stunned. But how long would the fatherless thing continue to hurt her? So I said the only logical thing that came to mind.

“That’s why you should have an abortion,” I told her. “All you’re about to do is continue the cycle. You’re about to bring another fatherless child into the world when you haven’t even healed from your own pain. You can’t see that?”

She broke down and started crying louder. “You don’t care what I feel. You don’t care about my feelings at all. I need somebody to love me. My baby will love me.”

Oh my God! I thought to myself. I was sorry I called the girl back. She was insane.

I said, “Juanita, don’t you see that’s the same mistake that every other girl makes. That child is gonna want more love than you can offer, just like you want more love than what Mom could give us.”

“She gave you love. Mom still loves you,” my sister argued through her tears.

I had to pull over and park. I was just a block away from my place, but I had to stop and shake my head. It was a crazy-ass night.

“She loves you—”

“No, she doesn’t,” my sister cut me off before I could finish. “She’s always loved you more.”

How could I ever end a conversation like that? Juanita had always believed our mother loved me more. I actually had to think about it. I was the firstborn, the only son, I was mostly out of sight and out of mind on my own adventures, and I had done quite well for myself without ever finishing college. Juanita was the second born, a girl who needed a lot of attention and maintenance, and she had graduated from college and still couldn’t keep her life or income in order. Now she was bringing an unwanted child into the world without marriage or stability, a child that only she wanted, but we would all be forced to pay for.

Again, how could I ever end a conversation like that?

Party Over

IWAS ON THE PHONE with my sister for nearly an hour, ignoring five other phone calls, while we reminisced on our childhood in Gary, Indiana. It hadn’t been that bad. We agreed that we had both made it to adulthood with opportunities to go to college, I just had no idea how many scars we had picked up and carried with us along the way.