Abuse to Abundance

I remember as a small girl people would always be whispering when I came around. It seemed strange then, but I didn't get the true reason for the secrecy until I got older. You see, my mother died at a very young age when I was three years old. I never really had the pleasure of knowing who she was. After my mother's death, I stayed with her best friend Margaret. I was so young. I didn't know she wasn't my real mother until I was twelve years old. Finding out that Margaret wasn't my real mother was one of the most painful experiences of my life. We lived on a street called Pennsylvania Avenue in Baltimore, Maryland; a busy street with lots of nightclubs and stores. The street was quiet in the daytime but after dark it would be buzzing with cars and people with fine clothes. Pennsylvania Avenue was a real party street. On North Avenue there was a theater call the Met Theater that all the kids my age would go to. One time I was at the movies and this tall, thin, freckle-faced guy kept following me around in the theater. Finally he made the announcement that Margaret wasn't my real mother. I jumped on him and beat him up. I was so angry. When I finally calmed down, he told me that his name was Jimmy and he was related to me. In fact, he was my cousin, and his mother Theresa was my aunt. He wanted to take me to his house to meet her. I was so hurt and shocked by the whole conversation, I didn't know what to do or say. I didn't go with him that day, but I met him again at the same movie theater and I did go to meet his mother — my real aunt — and I found out that I had another cousin named Norma, who was Jimmy's sister. In one way I was hurt because Margaret never told me about them, but in another way I was glad that I did have some family. I was being raised as an only child and that was a very lonely time for me.