New York, NY. December 15th, 1980. The city lights were now beginning to illuminate the dangerous streets of the big apple. The neighborhood's thieves soon came out to look for their victims. The mothers dragged their kids inside in order to keep them from the danger that was known to everyone.
In a building where numerous apartments served as home of the people who suffered from lack of wealth, fights went on behind the wooden doors. Inside of apartment number fourteen, the loud voices of two women were heard from the hallways.
"What do you mean ya ain't staying for Christmas?" - The older woman said, trying to diminish her anger as she finished cooking a soup.
"Mother, I already told you; I'm leaving!" - The younger girl screamed as she walked towards the door, carrying her three bags.
"You're making a big mistake, Sharelle. You're just a damn kid, for God's sake!" - The woman yelled angrily, throwing the kitchen spoon to the floor.
"I'm eighteen, mother! I know what I'm doing!"
"He's just gonna leave ya, just like your father left me!"
"Do not compare me to you! Anthony loves me!" - The girl said as she placed her hand on the door knob, preparing to leave.
"Oh, he's white. He don't love you, he's just using you."
"Mother, I won't let you judge him!"
"They're all the same! Whites and Blacks don't mix!"
"You're so old-fashioned! You're uneducated, and you're stupid! Now, I'm leaving!" - The girl sighed - "Good-bye mother."
Alisha, the mother, stared as her daughter while following her outside to the hallway. Sharelle made her way to the stairs. In an attempt to escape her aggravated mother, her shoe got stuck between the wheels of the bags. Her eyes opened wide as she approached the floor, trying to hold on to anything that was near. Alisha watched her daughter fall down the stairs.
That night, Sharelle was taken to the hospital. In the waiting room, Anthony Allen waited alone. He was worried to hear the worst. About forty minutes passed until the doctor appeared. His steps were firm and eternal to Anthony, who was impatient to hear what the doctor had to say. Finally, he heard what he was afraid of; Sherelle had lost the baby.
Nobody but the couple knew that they were expecting a baby, but now their dream of being parents had shattered.
"The good news," - The doctor added - "is that your wife is fine."
"Thank you, doctor."
Sharelle was released from the hospital and taken home by Anthony.For the rest of the night, the couple stayed awake in silence, struggling in agony and deception. Her mother called at one in the morning, apologizing to her daughter for not going to the hospital with them. The apology was accepted, but no further conversation occurred ever since.
It wasn't until three years later that Sharelle decided to call her mother, two weeks before Christmas. She told Alisha that she had married Anthony and they had just had their baby boy. Sharelle and Anthony were going to visit Alisha for Christmas, and they were bringing their son with them. Although Alisha still did not approve her daughter's marriage, she was excited about meeting her grandson.
At 1:37 p.m. Alisha's phone rang. It was from the police and they warned Alisha that she'd prepare to hear the news. There had been an accident at Farragut Street, two blocks away from the grocery store. One of the buses that crashed and caused the accident rolled over and landed on its side on top of ten pedestrians who were crossing the street, among them were Anthony and Sherelle Allen.
Alisha hung up, wandered to the living room and stared at the beautiful baby. Her sight blurred out as her eyes began to water. She caressed the boy as her screams and cries fused with the baby's innocent giggles.