This book tells the story of a young woman who grew up in a poor, single parent home, surrounded by drugs, violence, and welfare recipients. K'Dee was known to be smart, academically, but the question was: Did she have common sense? K'Dee has always aspired to have the finer things; however, life had a different plan. At a young age, she ran from her problems until she built up the courage to face them head on with prayer, perseverance, and persistence. If you want to know how she survived the pain, hurt, and agony of an abusive marriage, managed a family while moving ten times in one year, overcame depression, coped with the death of her mother, battled her own illness, and conquered love, while chasing her dreams . . . it's all here! Through it all, people wondered how she could wear a smile on her face, dress like a millionaire, and still be thankful to God. Through all that K'Dee was challenged with, she came out on the other side of life with self-esteem, expectations and standards as high as Mount Everest. This humorous, yet serious self-examination of K'Dee's life is no exception to the hard work she produces.

It's Been A Hard Life, I Just Make It LOOK Good

By K'Dee Talley

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 K'Dee Talley
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4520-5953-2

Contents

Acknowledgments.................................................................xiPrologue........................................................................xiiChapter I: The Move.............................................................1Chapter II: "Welcome To Our Buy One Get One ½ Price".....................10Chapter III: "Seriously Lord, We Need To Talk!!"................................19Chapter IV: Where Do I Go From Here?............................................23Chapter V: "Bitch, What The Hell Were You Thinking?"............................30Chapter VI: In Sickness And In Health...........................................40Chapter VII: "Devil, Get The Hell Out Of My Back Yard!".........................47Chapter VIII: This Shit Has Got To Stop!........................................62Chapter IX: I'm Tired Of Fighting!..............................................71Chapter X: Bitchezz And Jealousy................................................77Chapter XI: Let's Get This Party Started!.......................................82Chapter XII: A Breath Of Fresh Air..............................................88Chapter XIII: I Got Love On Lock................................................99

Chapter One

The Move

In April I moved back to my hometown Houston, Texas from the north; Sheboygan, Wisconsin to be exact. Not that you would know where that is but hell, for what it was, it was good living. Let me tell u how I ended up in such a 'white ass' place.

When I graduated high school from Jack Yates, class of '95, I knew I had to get away. I'd been on my own since I was 17 years old. My mom was the best mother she knew how to be. She'd had some health issues that prevented her from doing a lot. More specifically, she'd had a cardiac arrest in her early 30's.

I remember after she had the cardiac arrest and was in the hospital, all of our family from Chicago, Louisiana, and Mississippi had come down to Texas. Everyone would sit around at Hermann Hospital dreading the impeding bad news that she wouldn't survive. Our eyes fixated on every white coat that entered through the doors of the waiting room like a crack head fending off that white demon.

The doctors came in several times letting the family know that they were doing everything in their power to save her, but it wasn't looking good. The doctors pronounced my mom dead at least three times and each time we would tell them that they had to be mistaking because my mama wouldn't just die like that. They must have thought we were the craziest family that had ever graced that damn waiting room.

They'd told us that shit three times 'til one of my aunts, Vera from Chicago, got fed up and told the doctors to stay their asses out of that waiting room with that negative shit and to get back in there and save her damn sister. She was adamant that it just wasn't her damn time and we were not accepting that bullshit. Vera was our family's spokesperson because she was known for telling a muthafucka just what the fuck it was she was feeling.

Is she dead or not bitches? The problem wasn't the doctors. Hell, they really didn't know what to make of my mama. To be such a little woman, she was a fighter, and she wasn't giving up—literally. Shit, back in the day I'd heard many stories of how "dem Talley sistaz" had beaten bitches down in the country. One thing was for certain, if you fucked with one of 'em, you dealt with 'em all—all fourteen of them muthafuckaz. Madea, that's what we called my grandmother, made sure that shit wasn't gon' be a fair fight. She had fourteen girls and six boys!

My mom was on life support and just when they thought she was a goner, she would take another breath. My sister Trina would sit by mama's bed and basically order her to open her eyes and say something. Trina constantly reminded her that she'd just had her grandson and that he needed her. I never said anything, but I always remembered thinking, "Damn, Trina is sho telling mama what she NEED to be doin'! Hell if she does wake up, she'll probably get the shit knocked out of her ass!"

You wasn't gon' be sitting there raising your voice at Joann Talley. She didn't give a damn if she was on her death bed or not. You'd betta watch yo tone, and remember that SHE was the parent. Mama was in a coma for a couple of weeks and miraculously made a full recovery, however ended up living with a defibrillator for the remainder of her life. For those who just need to know what this "defibrillator" is all about, well, it is an electrical implant in the form of a small box placed in her stomach and served as a pace maker. Its' purpose was to regulate her heart rate in the event that it became weak or to a point where it couldn't function properly on its' own. Well, back in those days, this was a fairly new device and she was very afraid of it and if her ass was scared to death of it, what in the hell were we supposed to be?

My mother was very small framed and this device was tiny yet powerful. If at any time her heart rate would increase or decrease above or below the parameters in which the device was set by the surgeon, the damn thing would fire this current through her body to get it back right. Shit, we were kids back then and that mess was scary as hell to see your mother being ejected out of the bathtub because she'd gotten over heated. This damn monster would throw her to the floor! That's how our young minds viewed it.

Because of this handicap, mama was unable to get a job. So, financially it was difficult for her to take care of the three of us. I mean, the bills were paid, but for all of the extra shit, we were on our own. Mama had done her part and had done a damn good job at that. I didn't even know we were poor until I was older, in high school, and began to hang around my peers whose parents had money. Hell, prior to that, we were the best dressed on the block. Our apartment, in the projects, was the cleanest and best decorated, sorta like the Evans on Good Times. Shoot, all the neighborhood kids wanted to hang out at our shit. The kitchen stayed filled with food, she'd bought with food stamps, and we fed the entire damn neighborhood. We had a good life.

Mama definitely did whatever it was that mothers do to make sure that their kids are taken care of. To date, I have no damn idea how she pulled us through the storms and we dare not ask about her damn business. She had a mean back hand just for the muthafucka who didn't wanna stay in a child's place. Exactly where that place was, no one knew. But she damn sure knew how to knock yo ass there with a pimp hand!

My brother, Mykel, who was called Talley, was the man of the house, and what a great man he was and still is. Talley was dealing in drugs; shit, don't ask me what exactly. I wasn't allowed to know nobody's business! As Talley's "little sister", he was gonna defend me at all costs; whatever that shit meant. You could get away with a lot of shit, but yo ass didn't stand a chance if you were fucking with me and everybody in the neighborhood knew it. Talley wasn't to be fucked with and neither was I.

I remember people's lives being threatened just for looking like they had something to say to my ass. They were scared to even speak to me or make eye contact; I felt like muthafuckin' royalty. It may sound over exaggerated, but I bullshit you not. They had to get his permission to speak to my ass! I remember someone asking, "Man Talley, can I ask lil Talley to go to the store?" "Lil Talley"—but my ass was 16 years old! Growing up, I didn't even have a name. I was called, "Talley lil sister." WTF? Naturally, I couldn't wait to get from under his shadow. I love my brother, but damn!

In high school I had a boyfriend, Trey, who Talley and my mama really approved of. Trey was a respectful young man and "a nerd", well in their eyes, because he wore glasses. But I knew different, if you know what I mean. We had been dating since my sophomore year. We moved into our own apartment together when I was seventeen and no one said anything about it. Mama had had a hard enough time with my sister Trina and her shenanigans, so by the time I was in high school, she really didn't have much more fight left in her. Trey was 'Mr. Yates' and on the football team, number 29, and I was captain of the cheerleaders, so we were the most popular couple in the school. He had a job and made sure that I was able to pay for my cheerleading uniforms and camp cuz my mom couldn't afford it. Maybe that's another reason she let me go so freely. She knew I was better off with him. I called Trey, 'my rescuer.' Had it not been for him, I would have been ... well, let's just say that I don't know where my life may have led me, but the thought has crossed my mind several times through the years.

By the time I graduated high school, I was on the verge of breaking up with Trey. He was two years older than I was and had gone away to college two years before I graduated. We were in different places not only physically, but mentally as well. I probably would have been alright; I had a job working part time at Payless Shoe Source in Sharpstown Mall, and did hair on the side, but I still felt the need to get out of the city.

Now, I was fortunate enough to be blessed with a godmother who actually lived up to her title; her name was Nina. Nina was very instrumental in my life cuz she helped raised me from infancy. She was married and had two boys of her own, so I had an extended family. Her sisters Barbara and Patty lived in Wisconsin and she used to take me to visit them growing up; so choosing a place to go once I graduated was a no brainer. They all accepted me with open arms and in August of 1996, I was on my way up north to Sheboygan, Wisconsin via a Geo Tracker packed with black folk like Mexicans on their way to a quinceanera! The drive was excruciating, yet exhilarating. I felt like I was leaving civilization. I had my journal that I was accustomed to keeping and I had at least 1800 miles of scenery to write about. The more we traveled north, the colder it became. I could actually see the seasons changing! FINALLY, some twenty hours later, we arrived. Shittttt ... The ride to HELL would've been shorter than this!

Life in Sheboygan was certainly different. I accomplished a lot while I was there. I went to beauty school and became a licensed cosmetologist. Hell, but I was used to doing black people hair; here I was, in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. Does it sound like any black people live there? Not many. There were maybe five entirely black households including ours. The other black families were interracially inclined; typically, black man ... white woman. So the hair thing wasn't working out for me. That, mixed with the fact that I'm a person who bores easily, it just wasn't interesting anymore.

One day, I decided to go to the local mall that consisted of about twenty stores; Payless was one of them. You think they'd hire my black ass? And guess what, they did. I was their little token "black" girl. I was the only black person there. No, like seriously, I was literally the only "colored" muthafucka in that place. Well, with the exception of a girl named Nikki; she was JC Penny's token mulatto, but that bitch didn't count. To me, she was one of their asses! Her skin was white as snow. She was walking 'round that bitch tryin' to convince a muthafucka that she had 50% black in her ass, actin' like Nunu on the movie ATL! I hate it when bitches wanna "play" ghetto in front of their three black friends and turn that shit off right before entering their palace of a home with their butlers and servants.

I quickly adapted to the culture and became very popular. I started to progress in the company. Interesting enough, I didn't even have the desire to move up in the company. The manager would continue to ask me, "So, how do you feel about being full time?" I just went along with whatever the white people wanted to do. I was Eddie Murphy's bride on Coming to America ... "What eva you like." Hell, it was no big deal to me; I was young and naive. Before I knew it I was assistant manager, then shipped to Green Bay, Wisconsin to become a manager trainee. Wow! I remember thinking, "Damn, y'all must either like my black ass, or I'm really doing this company a service."

Fast forward to 2001 and my daughter, who I'd had in 1998, was three years old. Career wise, I'd come to a standstill because I needed to make a decision. I was trained as a manager, and now that my training was complete, there wasn't a store in the area in need of a manager. This was a crucial point in my life. I'd been through hell and back with my daughter's father. He had a sex addiction! Only he wasn't just addicted to my pussy. Shit, if the bitch even had a faint pulse, he was fucking her. You could get away with this bullshit in Sheboygan. A black man in Sheboygan was like crabs to a turkey neck in Galveston's water. Those white bitches were relentless. He'd been fucking 'round so much, and I'd had enough of the bullshit; I'd fought my last fight. Here's what happened.

Remember I told you earlier that my brother's understanding was zero when it came to his little sister. So some shit I HAD to keep secret. But the truth is: One day, while working at the Payless in the mall in Green Bay which, by the way, was 56 miles away from my home, I got this strong women's intuition that picked away at my spirit telling me that I needed to take my ass home. Normally, I closed the store at 9 p.m. It would take anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour to straighten up the store and count the earnings for the night. The drive home was an hour or hour and a half if it was snowing. So we're talking an approximate time of arrival of 11 p.m. at the earliest.

However, on this particular night, I'd made arrangements to leave the store at 8 p.m. so that I would get home at 9 p.m. I remember the drive home being worrisome. It was almost scary because I knew I would find something. I just had no idea what the hell would be lurkin' on the other side of that damn door. All I did know was that I've always had a strong discernment to know when I was being bullshitted and if there was a bitch in my house, I was gon' pull a Madea in that muthafucka! The closer I got to the house, the more anxious I became. I remember thinking, "Lawd, if you care anything about me, pleeeeze don't give me reason to FINALLY use this forty-five I'd had on ice for five years!"

I pulled up to my house, which was the lower half of a duplex at 9:12 p.m. (I remember the time exactly). I had my key in hand, damn near breaking my neck to reach the front door, almost wishing a muthafucka was in my shit. Maaan, I unlocked that door, bust that shit open and Lawd, pleeeze tell me my eyes are deceiving me, cuz if you confirm what I'm witnessing, I'm 'bout to go to jail! This thirsty, "wanna be Wisconsin playa", dumb ass baby daddy of mine, is on my sofa letting some young ass white bitch, ride his lil dick; AND without a condom? My blood was boiling over like a pot of Thelma's oatmeal on Good Times. I was like Florida in that bitch. Dam...Dam...Dammmm!!!!!! Well, get 911 on the line, cuz you bitches 'bout to die.

It quickly turned bad and I mean really fast. The hoe had the nerve to run into my daughter's room and hide in the closet.

"Bitch if you don't open this muthafuckin' door! What you running for niah? You were just being a bad ass, ride 'em, rope 'em cowgirl two minutes ago. Now yo ass is grass."

I was like a Tasmanian Devil going through that house. It was me against the world. I did so much damage until I scared my damn self!

"Bitch Ima count to three, and if you let me reach three, Ima fill your ass with some shit bigger and blacker than that dick you were just ridin'!"

"1 ... 2 ... thr" ... The door flung open and there stood snow white with her white handkerchief as a sign of surrender. I knew that once I was done in there I was gon' have to move out; wasn't a wall or a bitch standing. I can't disclose the rest of the details because 'til this day, my story is, "It wasn't me." That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

I hadn't been back to Texas since I'd left but maybe once. I was a secretive person, so no one in Texas knew of any of my accomplishments or shortcomings. My family there didn't even know my daughter, so what perfect time for me to go back? There's a Payless on every damn corner in Houston; surely one of them bastards needed a manager. That was the main reason I told everyone I was moving back to Texas and even though it was partially true, I seemed to have left out some vital information.

The whole incident with my baby daddy was my confirmation that it was time for me to come back to the big city and be reunited with my true family. My job was willing to transfer me, and we found a Payless that would be in need of a manager within a couple of weeks.

I began making several phone calls to my family to let them know of my plans to move back. I knew staying with my mother was out of the question. She wasn't one to allow her grown ass children to move back home. She was enjoying her life without raising kids, so I ended up getting in contact with my aunt, who was the mother of our R&B superstar cousin who sung in an all male trio group. She was excited to help me; she welcomed me into their home, little did I know what was ahead of me.

I packed me and my daughter's shit, called my grandfather in Houston, and he was there the following week to move us. I was on my way back to the hot ass dirty south. Damn, you say this drive is going to be 24 hours? Shit, wake me up when we get there!

Chapter Two

"Welcome To Our Buy One Get One ½ Price"

Is this the smell of success? Twenty-four and the youngest manager of the Payless Shoe Source chain in the Houston area, and with no degree? Can u say, don't hate me bitchezz? They placed me at a temporary location because my store wasn't quite ready. I was sharing a store with Ruth, a veteran with the company. She was forty-something, well at least I hope she was, cuz her ass sure looked every bit of it, but she was as cool as a summer breeze by Lake Michigan. Here, I learned some shit that they weren't schooling me on in Wisconsin. Hell, Ruth was competitive; her store was the top store in our division, and she was gon' do whatever it took to maintain that standard including lying, cheating, or stealing. Shit, I said she was cool; I didn't say the bitch had morals!

(Continues...)

Excerpted from It's Been A Hard Life, I Just Make It LOOK Goodby K'Dee Talley Copyright © 2010 by K'Dee Talley. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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