Born Blue (22 page)

"No, I don't," I said. "Woman, you need to look in a mirror."

Mama Linda smiled at me and licked her dry lips. "I think I am looking in a mirror."

I stood up and took up my plate of food. "I'm gonna eat in the other room."

I ate at the table in the main room and looked out at the water view. All that water didn't look so scary through a plate of glass. When I finished I got up and went to the bathroom, then lay down on the couch, only weren't a couch, really. Mrs. Trane said all the furniture be made of wicker, which were like thin painted-white strips of wood wound this way and that. When you sat in a chair, it made creaking noises like it were giving way. The couchlike one had a long cushion on it and all these pillows for the back. I took a pillow for my head and lay down 'cause I be so tired. Later Mrs. Trane come in and waked me and said I could sleep in the other bedroom, 'cause she had her own home to go to.

I got up and dragged to the bedroom and got in the bed and fell back asleep real fast Don't know how long I slept when Mama waked me up calling from her bed. I climbed out my bed and shuffled myself to her room. The full moon were out over the water making it light in there.

"I need help going to the bathroom," Mama Linda said to me when I got to her doorway.

"Okay," I said. "Where be the old lady? I'll tell her."

"She's gone home. Just help me up and let me hold on to you."

"You gonna touch me? No way, I don't think so."

I turned round and went back to my bed and crawled in. Mama Linda called for me. I put the pillow over my head. She kept calling. Seemed like half the night she were calling. I didn't do nothin' 'bout it, and finally, she stopped.

Next morning the old lady come wake me up and tell me to go to Mama Linda's room 'cause I got to help clean up.

I pulled on Paul's pants from the day before. They was on the floor by my bed, where I didn't remember putting them, 'cause I didn't never remember taking them off. I slipped on my shoes and followed Mrs. Trane to Mama Linda's bedroom.

"If I gotta sponge up water again, I want to wear a pair of them rubber gloves I seen you wear last night."

"You can sure wear the latex gloves if you want, but it isn't water you'll be cleaning. It's pee."

I stopped walking. "I ain't cleaning up no Mama Linda pee. She make a mess, let her clean it up."

Mrs. Trane grabbed my arm, and for a old lady she were way strong. It surprised me.

"Hey, lady, let go a me!"

I tried twisting out from her, but she got a death grip on me I couldn't shake off.

"You go clean up the mess, and maybe tonight you'll
dunk twice about leaving your mother to pee in her bed."

"She ain't my responsibility. Now let go, I'm gettin' outta here."

The old lady twisted my arm! She twisted my arm like she gonna break it off. "You're going to go in and clean up your mother's mess."

"You gonna break my arm if I don't?"

The old lady pulled on me, dragging me to Mama's bedroom. She shoved me into the room, and before I could turn round to fight back, she done closed the door and locked it with a key.

I stood facing the door, breathing hard. I cussed her out good and kicked the door, but weren't no sound coming from the other side.

"She thinks we're going to patch things up," Mama Linda said behind me.

I whipped myself around. "I ain't doin' nothin' with you!"

Mama Linda was sitting hunched in a chair, wrapped in a blanket and shivering. There were bits of egg spilt on the blanket She looked at me with her hollowed-out eyes and nodded. "I know. I know what I've done to you."

"Yeah, so do I. You give me away. You traded me off for heroin like I some kinda nothin'! Well, you nothin' to me!"

I marched over to her set of windows facing out at the water. Each window had a crank to open them up. I took one and turned it.

"I ain't stayin' round with you," I said. The window opened and a big wind blowed in the room. I put my head to the screen and looked down. Were a long way down. I wouldn't get far on broken legs. I cranked the window shut and turned round.

"You clean?" Mama Linda asked me.

"What?" I said, like she some pesky fly I want to smash.

"You take drugs?"

"No! I ain't stupid like you. I got me a life. I got talent. Don't need no drugs."

I marched across the room and pounded on the door. "Let me out! I gotta pee!"

Mama Linda said, "Why don't you use my bed. It worked for me." She laughed a croaky stale laugh like it been sitting inside her chest a long time, then took a deep sucking breath.

I pounded on the door again.

"Sing to me," Mama Linda said behind me, sucking another breath.

I turned round. "Never. Ain't never gonna sing for you. You ain't never gonna hear me sing nothin', so shut up."

Mama Linda lifted her blanket closer round her face. Her lips and eyelids looked blue. She said, "It's just if you really can sing, then I could probably tell you who your father is, that's all. Then I would know."

I pointed at her. "You lie! You ain't gonna tell me. You don't have no idea who he be. I know all about it, 'cause
I got my own—" I shut my mouth and didn't say no more.

"Your own what? You don't know anything about my life."

"Ain't my fault."

"Didn't say it was." She took another long suck of air.

I kicked back on the door and yelled out. "She gettin' sick sittin' in this chair. She breathin' like she gonna die in here. You better come see."

I didn't get no answer. I shouted, "You out there? Hey! You out there?"

No answer.

I looked at Mama Linda sunk in her blanket. She were lookin' scary like she really gonna die on me. I big-time wanted outta there. I didn't want the blame for her dyin', too.

"Okay," I said. "Okay, I gonna sing for you. I got just the song, 'cause I wrote it myself, and if you want proof, I got it written down in music with my name on it. See, 'cause I learned something. I can read music and write it down and everything. I can play a song on the piano. You didn't know that, huh?"

I went to the bed and stuck on a pair of them latex gloves sitting in a box on the table. I pulled off the blankets and sheets and got the wet cloth I seen sitting in a bowl of soap water. I wrung it out and wiped down the plastic mattress cover. I cleaned it off and sung my song. I sung about listening in the dark for footsteps that never come. Half the way through, I stopped with the cleaning
and looked out at a boat sailing on the water. I kept singing. I sung to the boat and to the water and the seagulls, and I sung to Mama Linda sittin' shivering and sucking up air behind me. I sung out my pain and Mama Linda heard that. She heard exactly what been hidin' dark in my soul for all my life. I know 'cause when I turned round, she were crying tears on her blanket.

WHEN
I
FINISHED
singing, I went back to cleaning up pee, and Mama Linda sat sniffling and sucking up air and snot. We didn't neither of us say nothin', but didn't matter, 'cause I felt like my song said all I ever needed to say to Mama Linda. I felt like something got washed clean and clear inside of me.

I took the clean stack of sheets from off the chair I were sitting eating dinner in the night before, and made up Mama Linda's bed. I saw a blanket folded on top of a tall white chest I had to stand on tiptoe to reach, and I put that on before I added back the cover and the other blankets. Then I went to Mama Linda, who were still crying and wiping her snot on her blanket. I told her to let go the blanket, and I pulled at her arms to get her standing. She were so light were like her bones got all hollowed out. I saw old marks on the inside of her arms. Old tracks from her heroin days.

I said, "Now you be on other drugs, huh? Now you be legal with them bottles you got by the bed?"

Mama Linda didn't say nothin'. It took all her wobbling strength to make it to the bed and sit down on it. I picked up her legs and her feet, which looked so big and knobby dangling off them bone legs of hers, and I careful put them under the covers. I pulled up the blanket and covered her up good. Mama Linda slunk down, sighed deep, and closed her eyes. I turned to leave, and her hand come up on my arm. I looked back at her.

She opened up her eyes and said, "I'm pretty sure your father was a man named English. Howard Lee English. He died. Overdose. Long time ago."

I handed Mama a tissue off her table, and she wiped her nose.

"Were he black or white?" I asked.

Mama Linda raised her brows. "White. I never slept with a black man."

"Oh," I said. I left her side and grabbed up the wet sheets.

"He had a beautiful voice. A rich, butterfat tenor." Mama sucked in her breath with every sentence she talked to me. "He wanted to sing and compose"—big breath—"music, but his father wanted him in banking"—big breath—"Howard went to Wharton"—big breath—"but got kicked out second semester. He died"—big breath—"New Year's Eve. I think he OD'd on purpose. All he wanted to do was"—big breath—"sing."

I were standing by the door, keeping the wet sheets away from my body. The smell were sharp in my nose.

"My name be Jane English, then?"

Mama closed her eyes. She sighed another deep sigh, and I watched her chest Hit up and sink down.

I turned and knocked on the door real soft. I heard Mrs. Trane limp toward the door. She unlocked it and stepped back.

I come through the door. "Mama Linda's sleepin', I think," I said.

Mrs. Trane peeked in over my shoulder. She nodded at me. "Good. You did a good job. You can set the sheets in the washing machine. It's in that closet in the kitchen there. Then why don't you take a shower, and I'll make you a pancake breakfast."

I did what she said to do, then took me a shower. The water run down hot on my body and it felt good. I soaped myself up and rinsed myself clean. Ain't never felt so clean.

I LIVED WITH MAMA LINDA
till she died. I lived with her almost three and a half months, look her that long to die, even though every day I were there looked like it gonna be her last one.

We didn't never talk again 'bout my daddy or 'bout her life. We didn't never say nothin' 'bout my drownin' or her kidnapping me or any of that stuff, 'cause Mama had pneumonia and got put on oxygen soon after I come. Then she went into a coma and stayed like that till she died. But I told her 'bout my baby girl, Etta Harmony James, and I sung her more songs. And when my song come on the radio, which happened four times, I turned it up for her to hear and said that it be me singin'. And she heard when the radio dude asked where did this Leshaya come from, and when he said he predicted I gonna be hot, hot, hot!

I sat by Mama's bed and talked to Mama lots, and Mrs. Trane said that Mama could hear me even if she be
in a coma. So I told her how I were lyin' when I said I didn't take no drugs, but I said I were gonna try not to get into them no more. And I told her 'bout Paul and Harmon, who been nice to me, and how I caused them no end of trouble. I told her all 'bout that. Then I said that I bet she made up that story 'bout my daddy and his singing and him being white and named English. I told her how his name sounded made up. I said I bet she didn't even know who my real daddy be but that it didn't matter 'cause I understood how it could happen. And I told her how I couldn't be no Jane English 'cause I be Leshaya and I be half African American and I be a great singer and that were all I knew how to be. Mama Linda just lay there letting me say all them things to her and were like more of my soul were getting washed clean.

We gave Mama Linda warm sponge baths and changed her sheets by both of us rolling her one way and holding on while we pulled off the sheets partway, then rolling her the other way and getting all the sheets off. We didn't need to feed her nothin' 'cause she got feeding tubes and a bag that held her pee, and we just had to keep them working right and change them every once in awhile.

I sat by her bed and watched her die. People always saying you can't be a little bit pregnant and you can't be a little bit dead. You either dead or you ain't, but that ain't true. Mama got a little bit more dead every day.
Every day her color got grayer, and every day she felt colder to touch, and every day she got stiller and stiller inside herself.

I asked Mrs. Trane why Mama don't die already. "What keepin' her hangin' on?"

Mrs. Trane said, "It's the survival instinct. She'll fight with every ounce in her to stay alive. Your mama always was a fighter, I'll give her that."

I watched her fight off dying. Were a quiet fight.

Watching and caring for Mama weren't all I done, 'cause the days there was long. Sometimes I went outside and walked round, but I didn't go near the water. I walked up the street the other way, where I come to all these shops full of plastic toys and T-shirts and flip-flops. I didn't never buy nothin', 'cause didn't have the money. I just turned round and come back to the house.

Most what I did when I had the time were my music. I found Paul give me two music books. They was in the pack I brung with me. I studied them both through twice.

Mrs. Trane made me what she called a silent piano by drawing the piano keys on some cardboard she had laying round her house. She said I could practice on the silent piano till I got to a real one again. She even brung me some piano books she had from when she used to play years and years ago.

I practiced some, but weren't as fun without the music.

Me and Mrs. Trane talked together lots, too. We talked while we worked round Mama, and we talked while we made our meals, and sometimes we just sat and talked.

I asked Mrs. Trane how long she knew Mama Linda, and she said off and on all Mama's life. She said she even knew me when I were a baby girl. She said she were friends with my grandparents. I asked if she knew where I could see pictures of them and me when I were a baby.

Mrs. Trane pulled out a drawer of pictures and I saw lots, but weren't none of me. I saw ones of Mama Linda and I thought some of them be me. I saw my grandparents and they looked happy all the time. I saw Mama Linda's brother and he didn't never look happy. There was pictures of birthdays and Christmas and Halloween and going to the beach and building sandcastles and hunting for Easter eggs and when Mama Linda won a first place science prize—she got lots of pictures of that. There was pictures of Mama and Brother Len on horses and peeking out from a tent and waving from up in a tree house and sitting at a restaurant in Italy, everybody with drinks in their hands, and Mama Linda standing tilted in front of a place called the Leaning Tower of Pisa. There was all these family pictures up till Mama got to be just 'bout my age, sixteen. Then pictures of her stopped.