How to Knock a Bravebird from Her Perch : The First Novel in the Morrow Girls Series (9780985751616) (36 page)

Heziah was so easy to please. Just a few smiles here and there did wonders for him. So, of course that’s what I concentrated on.
 

For everything else I had my journal. I found it in the grocery in the aisle with all the magazines and books and stuff. Was nice. At least it looked that way to me. Brown leather that felt real soft against my finger tips. And the pages were blank and had gold running around they edges. Was the only one left. Wasn’t on sale but I got it anyway. Told myself it was for my girls. Something I could leave them that they could treasure. Something good. And the next time Heziah went deep into nursery mode, I pulled out my special book with the blank pages and thought long and hard about what to write. Just figured I’d start from the beginning.

"M
RS
. J
ENKINS
.” S
HE
’
D
FINALLY
gotten the hang of calling me by my new name. “How are you?” she asked but her eyes stayed glued to my stomach like she couldn’t wait to get her hands on what was inside.

Mrs. Gibson’s office at DCFS wasn’t much to look at. Folks were more organized at my job than hers. They ain’t have a real waiting area, just folks walking in the door and passing each other to get to their desks. She pulled up a brown metal folding chair, the kind with white specks on it that was supposed to be decoration and gestured for me to sit there. I did. But I wasn’t sure I was gonna be able to get back up again.

“I’m glad you could make it. You didn’t have any trouble finding the place, did you?”

Our appointment was scheduled for 1:15, right in the middle of my lunch time. Wasn’t like I got a whole hour like some folks. Had to take a taxi just to get to her office in time. Was probably gonna be late getting back but I tried not to think about that.
 

“How’re my girls? They okay?”

She nodded but touched her glasses like she was trying real hard to find something negative to say. She hated giving me good news. Couldn’t say that they were doing better or nothing like that. Only wanted to tell me what was wrong.
 

“Mrs. Jenkins, I wanted to give you an opportunity to enroll in a parenting class.”

“Well, I don’t need a parenting class.”

She sighed and pressed the tip of a blue pen so the ink made a perfectly round dot on the yellow lined page that sat on her desk. “It would go a long way to showing that you are serious about getting your kids back.”

“Fine.”
 

“Good.” She handed me a sign-up sheet. “Can I assume that your new husband would be open to joining you?”

“He doesn’t need a parenting class either. But yeah, he’ll come if it’ll get us the girls back.”

“Good. We have one starting on Friday. Oh. Wait. No. That’s probably not a good idea...” But it was too late. I’d already seen it. The sign-up sheet for that Friday had a good number of folks already signed up. Seventeen to be exact. In the box marked thirteen was his name. Ricky Morrow.

“Mrs. Jenkins? Can you give me that sheet back? I’ll get you one for the other class.”

“Ricky going?”

“To the Friday night classes? Yes. Here’s one for Tuesday nights. Just sign on the...the box numbered five. You can sign your new husband up as well.”

“Why?”

“I thought I explained this to you.” She sighed looking over my head at the lady who was passing by to get to the desk next to us.

“No, I mean why’s Ricky going? Wh-What you promise him?”

“I didn’t promise him anything. The court requires that we at least try to reunite children with their natural parents. If he gets some help for his anger issues and takes some parenting courses...”

“You what? You’ll give them to Ricky?”

“Mrs. Jenkins. Please.”

“You can’t do that! What in the world is wrong with you? You stupid?”

“Mrs. Jenkins! That is enough! Contrary to what you may think I don’t spend my days thinking about how to make you miserable. I am simply following the rules. And despite your many outbursts and what I personally consider to be erratic and unstable behavior, I doubt that your ex-husband would be a better choice. But I am obligated by law to work toward a resolution that is in the best interests of the children. And according to the law, returning them to their natural parents is the goal. Now, if you would like to be taken seriously I suggest you and your new husband be on time to each one of the classes.”

“You can’t give them to Ricky. You can’t...”

“Right now we are only working on visitation. If that goes well...then we’ll see...perhaps the two of you can learn to work together to parent your children.”

In the fourteen years I’d known Ricky Morrow, he hadn’t learned a thing other than how to throw a better punch. And I knew what it was like to parent with Ricky. Knew about all the things he didn’t think were important, how hard it was for him to just be nice to folks. Knew all the signs that he was pissed off about something. Ain’t matter if you’d done it or not, if you were there...he was coming for you. I didn’t even wonder why he was the way he was or spend any time blaming myself for it, but I couldn’t pretend like I ain’t know what I knew.

L
OUIS
WAS
WAITING
FOR
me on the porch when I got back home. We’d enjoyed him so much the last time he visited that he decided to spend Christmas with me and Heziah. It was good to see him, even though I was sure his mama probably missed him something terrible. He met me at the gate, taking each step with me real slow like the snow wasn’t trustworthy.

“I’m okay.”
 

But he just nodded, his cold fingers wrapped nice and tight around mine. Had that way just like his daddy where he could see what I needed despite what I was saying. Louis explained that Heziah had called and said for us not to wait up. So, it would be just me and my stepson for supper. Ain’t stop us from having what I call a real supper—fried chicken, yams, collards, and potato salad. Wasn’t sure what Louis was used to but figured it was the least I could do.

Everything was so quiet. Too quiet. My house already felt like it was two sizes too big and it just got bigger when we sat down to eat. Felt like I needed to apologize for it because Louis ain’t know what it was supposed to be like. He ain’t know about when it used to be filled with music and laughter. Felt like I’d invited him in and ain’t give him the best impression.
 

“You think the girls’ll join us for Christmas Day? I’d sure like to meet them.”

We hadn’t told the girls anything really about Louis or Hazel but I just nodded and said, “They wanna meet you too. But I don’t know if it’ll happen any time soon. The social worker, she made it sound like they were busy.”

“Too busy for family?”

Wasn’t nothing to say to that so I just concentrated on my plate. They were still my girls, just not so much in person. More so in my head. In my head, they’d always be my girls. With their messy braids and scraped knees and the sweetness they could’ve only got from me. Didn’t matter where they were in the world, my girls had my whole heart.

Snow was coming down real good about then. Wind went from whistling to howling up against the windows and doors.

“Mama Bell, this is the best fried chicken I ever had.” Louis ain’t have his daddy’s smile so I figured it came from his mama. Was big and wide, showing all his slightly crooked teeth.
 

“You ain’t gotta call me that. You can call me Belinda if you want. Or Pecan. Don’t nobody call me Pecan no more.”

“You don’t like Mama Bell?” His smile up and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“No—I just mean...I ain’t exactly old enough to be your mama so...”

“If you don’t want me to...I can call you whatever you want.”

I watched as he stabbed his fork into a piece of yam and chewed it without looking up. The quiet had come back. Things were going so well then I had to go and mess them up. Make him feel like he wasn’t mine. I wanted to take it back, was thinking it through when this hardness started raging up against the front door. That right there should’ve told me who it was. Only one person would’ve shown up and started banging on my door like that.

“You expecting someone?” Louis looked confused more than anything. And he got to his feet before I could get the words out fully. “I’ll get it,” he rose from his chair.

“No...” Poor Pecan raised her damn head, muffling up my words. Had to get to my own feet before I could really get it out. “LOUIS! Don’t.”

“Why?” He looked back at me then at the door. He’d made it all the way to the hall. Then we both heard it. The quiet.
 

“See. They’re gone. Just...just come sit back down. Finish your supper.” But Louis was curious. He walked down the hall anyway. And I held my breath as the front door creaked open, snow flurries and that cold Chicago wind came blowing in. Maybe a second passed but it felt like forever before he closed the door again. Couldn’t exhale until I heard him throw the lock. The brand new one we got just so I ain’t have to worry that Ricky still had his key.

“Hmm.” Louis strolled down the hall, still confused. “Guess it wasn’t important. You okay?”

I nodded, noticing for the first time how my fingers had latched on to the corner of the wall.
 

Ricky’s bouquets had started coming more frequent and the last few came with phone calls. He said he was checking on me. Wanting to know if I’d made up my mind yet. Asking me how his baby was doing. And reminding me that his love for me wasn’t gonna stop. Not ever.
 

Heziah wanted to call the cops again but they weren’t much help the first time. I wasn’t surprised. Ricky’s fans were everywhere, like a cult of mindless followers. Watching me and doing him favors. But even Ricky wasn’t gonna be a match for my pistol.
 

I was just about ready to convince myself of that when the noises started at the kitchen door. Louis took off in flash. The phone was in the kitchen. All my knives were in the kitchen.
 

“Where she at?”

Louis rattled off something that was more him just trying to be polite than anything but I could tell that Ricky had just brushed right past him. Nervous as all get-out, Louis swallowed hard and tried again. Telling Ricky that it was late and maybe he could come back tomorrow when we weren’t eating supper. Would’ve worked too if Ricky was anybody else. He ain’t care about manners or nothing like that. All Ricky cared about was his pride.

“What you doing Pecan? Hmm?” Off came his gloves and he stuffed them into his coat pockets. “I’m done waiting. You coming back to me or not?”

Every one of my nightmares started with Ricky standing over me as I slept. So, I’d left my pistol in my dresser. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

“This thing done gone on long enough. We getting back together before my boy get here. Hear me? Pecan, I’m talking to you.”

Louis eyes grew wide and he looked at me like he’d never laid eyes on me before.
 

“It ain’t like that,” I tried to explain.

“Why you talking to him? I’m the one you need to be worried about.”

The food was cold by then but I went back to my plate and sat down anyway, like I could eat with him standing over me.
 

“You my wife.”

“I ain’t. And I never will be again.”

“STOP SAYING THAT!”

Air filled my lungs as I raised my chin an inch or two. Me looking him in the eye wasn’t how things usually went between us.
 

“Where is he? He here? Or he still at that little carpet shop?”

Louis didn’t take too kindly to that and said, “Look man, you gotta go.”
 

“Who the fuck is this? Who you is?”

Ricky’s focus was a deadly thing especially when you were unfamiliar with it. Physically, Louis was better equipped to handle it than me but at the time I didn’t see it like that.

“Leave him be.” I was up and between them faster than even I thought possible. “He ain’t got nothing to do with this. It’s between me and you. Not him.”

But Ricky zoomed in on Louis anyway, squinting his eyes and flexing his fists. My affection for my stepson didn’t help his cause.