Somebody's Someone (35 page)

“Why come we have to do all that just to get something to eat?” I wanted to know.

“So that you can always be invited back. And it shows that you have really good manners.” Well, if good manners was what Miss Claire wanted, then good manners was what she was gonna get. Even though secretly I sometimes wanted to do things my own way.

When I was with Claire, my heart didn’t hurt. It felt smooth and light, like one of them balloons that floated free up in the sky. But when she was gone, I had a uneasy feeling, like somebody was chasing me, trying to get me. My heart was jumpy, and my belly was full and excited. All I wanted to do was try and keep my mind busy so I didn’t have to think ’bout her not being there. Sometimes if she worked three days in a row, I’d go crazy tryin’ to stay up, so that I didn’t miss the minute she arrived and every other minute she was there. I felt the same way for her that I did for Ruby, b’fore I moved to North Carolina. Nowadays, I didn’t think ’bout Ruby too much, if a’tall. I finally saw that it was no good to want things that wasn’t ever going to be.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SMILE

IT ALWAYS CAME
outta nowhere, like something sneaking up on you in the dark when you ain’t expecting it and snatching all the wind outta you. No matter how many times I heard them words, I never got used to ’em: “Regina, you’re going to be leaving the shelter.”

This time, my social worker, Miss Forde, called the counselors on Monday and told ’em to have me ready to leave by Tuesday, midday at the latest. Each time I’d moved, I had no say in the matter. By the time the news reached me I barely had a minute to ketch my breath, let alone make do with the notion that I’d be leaving Miss Claire.

“But I don’t wanna go yet,” I’d told Miss Claire as she sat me down and let me know what was happening. Since the call came on her shift, the other counselors decided it might be best for her to break the news to me. And since it was her last night before I left, she wanted us to spend a bit of time together.

“I know, sweetheart, but like I’ve said before, everyone must move on at some point. The shelter is only a temporary placement. Miss Forde is just trying to find a good stable home for you.” She smiled and offered to help me get packed. “I’ll go and get the request for your personals, and you can start by emptying the drawers.

“Regina,” she called out to me before walking outta the room, “it’s going to be all right, honey. I know you’re going to do well.”

I waited till she sashayed out the door before I let the air I was holding out. I tried to cry, scream, or holler, but nothing would come out. It reminded me of a time when I fell from the roof onto cement and I had to run round the yard shaking my hands before my next breath found its way back to me.

Once I got ahold of my breath, I took the pillow off my bed and slammed my fists into it like I’d seen some of the other girls do when they got mad. “I hate Miss Forde,” I kept saying to myself. “
I hate you
. I hate you.” Over and over I screamed inside my own head and beat that pillow till the middle thinned.

It took me all night to pack one drawer of clothes. I dragged my time out by folding and refolding my stuff, then slowly placing each item inside the green Glad garbage bag. I wanted to have Miss Claire as long as I could. When we finally finished and all my things was squared away, I took the recording machine Miss Claire’d gave me and offered it back to her.

“Here, I want you to hold this till I see you again. I don’t want nobody to take it from me where I’m going; for all I know they a bunch of thieves.” I pushed the small black-and-silver box at her, but she refused to take it from me.

“No, it’s for you, Regina. You keep it. Anyway, I have an idea. Why don’t you make me tapes like you promised, and send them to me. You know, some where you’re singing, and others where you talk and tell me all about your new placement; that way I’ll get to hear your voice firsthand. And by the way, pumpkin, Sacramento is only an hour’s drive, so I’m sure we can see one another as soon as you settle in and Miss Forde gives the okay.” Miss Claire folded the fingers from both her hands round my outstretched one and pushed the present she’d gave me back towards my lap. “You keep it, Regina; it was meant for you to have as your very own.”

I held on to my present and didn’t pack it with the rest of my stuff. Instead, I placed it on the chair with the clothes I’d laid out to travel in so I could be sure to keep it with me the whole time, away from anyone’s pokin’ hands.

Miss Claire said good-bye to me later that night. I’d hung out with her while she did her rounds and made certain that all the kids was in they rooms getting ready for bed. My body, now frozen like a life-size ice cube, slowly moved with her from place to place, not caring that some of the other kids was asking why come I got to be up when they had to be in their rooms. After reminding everybody that tonight was my last, Miss Claire and me kept on doing our rounds. Finally it came time to gather my things up and set ’em in the office—which is what everyone had to do the night before they left, to keep folks from wanting to steal your personals. As we set my bag on the office floor, I wanted to grab Miss Claire and beg her to take me with her. But I remained frozen, inside and out.

“Hey you, are you hanging in there?”

I moved my head up and down slightly.

“Come here.” Miss Claire pulled me to her and hugged me long and good.

All I wanted was to stay right there forever. Why wouldn’t God let me stay right there?

“This is going to be a new beginning, Regina. And you are in charge of how it all turns out.” She smiled a closed, thin smile, then kissed me right in the middle of my forehead.

Again the more I chased after my words, the farther they ran from me. I just stood silently—no speech was gonna come my way, no matter how much I wanted to tell her.

“Okay, let’s get you to your room so that I can do the shift change with Miss George.” Miss George was the new overnight woman. Miss Claire walked me to my room and watched me get into bed. She stood at the doorway with her hand on the light plate and said, “Don’t make a big deal out of going, Regina. That way you can show Miss Forde that you are willing to cooperate, show her that you’re a big girl.” I just listened. I still couldn’t feel her words. She switched off the light and walked away.

I laid in bed for a while and watched my thoughts do somersaults ’cross my mind. Over and over I ’magined myself running and holding on to Miss Claire’s leg and not letting her go. I even seen myself getting into the backseat of her car and sneaking home with her and then begging her to run off with me. Finally, I heard the handle on the office door open and Miss Claire say good night to Miss George. All a sudden my body started pumping blood like crazy. For the first time since I heard I’d be leaving, I could feel—but it didn’t feel good. My breathing got real short and stuck in the top part of my chest. I tried to concentrate on somethin’ else to keep me from exploding. Where was Miss Claire now? The
click-clack
sounds of her heels on the tiled floor let me know she was in the kitchen, then the dining room. The noise faded as she made her way down the hall that would lead her to the double-front doors— then to her car.

I jumped outta bed and snuck out the quiet door on the right side of the building. In my bare feet I ran back out to the fence that circled the yard. I needed to see her one more time. In a hurry, I climbed to the top and leaned my upper body half ’cross the pieces of metal where the ends of the fence twisted together then split like baby wishbones. I waited. In minutes I could see the headlights of Miss Claire’s car come slowly down Glacier Drive. My heart thumping all heavy-like, I wondered if I should just throw my body on top of her car as she passed. I don’t know what kept me back, but I didn’t jump. Miss Claire stopped at the sign. I didn’t want her to see me, so I scooted back a bit till the fence spikes dug into the skin below my bosom. I didn’t care. I watched Miss Claire make a left onto Muir Road. As she passed me, I seen that her face was plain but looked sad. “Please don’t go.” I whispered the words into the night air. I watched her drive right past on her way to her house, to sleep in her bed—without me.

After waiting till I seen the tail end of her car make the last left that would take her to the freeway, I finally jumped down from the fence and snuck back to my room. As I hurry and laid down, I grabbed my recorder and pushed the rewind button and listened to the voice. It was a earlier recording that I’d tricked Miss Claire into doing. I’d had her say some nice words to me and promised myself to never erase ’em. When the tape came to the end of rewind, I pushed the play button and slid the player under my pillow. As her voice asked, “Hi, pumpkin, how are you doing?” finally I could hold them tears no longer. They started a-flowing. I kept pushing the rewind button till I fell off to sleep.

We arrived in what Miss Marrion called the San Joaquin Valley close to an hour after we’d left Martinez. At the last minute I got word that Miss Forde had been called outta town on a emergency and wasn’t gonna be able to take me to Sacramento. So Miss Marrion, her coworker, filled in. We pulled into a parking lot that sat in front of a great big ole red-and-whitepainted house. From the outdoors, the house looked like it had a million rooms for folks to sleep and run round in. I tried to take it all in as fast as I could. ’Cross the yard from where we stood was a park that had green for as far as the eye could see, with tall oak trees like the ones on Big Mama’s property. They branches stretched high into the air, as if they wanted to pull themselves up into the sky. This place reminded me more on south Austin than the shelter. Maybe that was a good sign?

“Would you like some help with your things?” Miss Marrion asked in a gentle kinda way as she popped the trunk of her white county-issued car with the gold sticker on the side door and the
E
that was held by a five-sided circle. I hated them cars.

“Nah, I got ’em,” I said to her, pulling my one bag outta the trunk. The plastic sack dropped to the ground with a soft thud. For a minute, I just stood where I was and stared off into the park at a big ole oak tree and wondered if any of my peoples ever thought on me.

“Come on; let’s get inside. It’s pretty hot out here.” Miss Marrion motioned with her arm for me to follow in front of her. With my bag slung over my left shoulder I made my way to the front door.

In the California Wayward Children’s Home, I shared a room with ’bout six other girls off and on, depending on who came and who left. There was also a boys’ section that was separated on the other side of the building. I met Mary, who was in charge of the girls’ section, and Bruce, who was head counselor for the boys. Bruce looked like the jolly green giant without the green Tarzan outfit. And Mary seemed like somebody nobody should wanna play with. When she talked at you, there was no smiling, and she let it be knowed that if trouble was gonna be had, she was the one to set things straight. Mary and Bruce was in charge of leading me and two new boys round the property, so we could know where everything was at. From what I could see, whoever went through the trouble to make such a nice place for kids was all right by me. But even still, if anybody should’ve asked, I would have gone back to the ugly ole shelter in a minute if it meant I could get back with Miss Claire.

The best part ’bout the new place was the swimming pool. We was allowed to use it if we acted like model citizens and followed the rules. That meant no lying, stealing, hitting, or name-calling. I thought to myself that I could be a model if I really wanted to. And just maybe it would help me get to see Miss Claire sooner.

I also loved the yard that was pushed up behind the house. It was fine, with its tetherball poles, a baseball field, and kickball yard. The tour seemed to be going good till I seen the li’l room that sat right next to the counselors’ office at the foot of the big staircase. The room was called a confinement area. It was as big as a small closet and was all white—inside and out. The handle for the door was only on the outside, which mean that once you was inside, the only way to get out was if somebody let you out. The room was used for “children who got themselves way out of hand.”

“What does ‘way out of hand’ mean?” I asked Mary.

She told me, “Hopefully nothing you’d ever have to concern yourself with, right, Regina?”

That closet gave me a bad feelin’. I was gonna have to do my best not to get myself concerned with it.

The first three weeks at the California Wayward Children’s Home was working out all right for me. I’d met up with ole Miss Forde, and she said that the director lady had told her I was being good and if I kept it up for a while longer I could maybe have Miss Claire come up for a short visit. When I asked why I had to wait longer she told me it was ’cause of some policy that the home had with all they new cases. If you could get through the first thirty days without incident, then you could earn privileges like phone calls and receiving and sending mail. Lord knowed I barely earned anything at the shelter, but I was willing to keep up the model-citizen thing so I could get what I wanted here at Sacramento. And in the meantime I was gonna keep earning money to buy tapes so that when the time came, I’d be able to mail ’em off to Miss Claire. An’ I could have done it, too, if I hadn’t’ve seen that picture.

It was the most beautiful picture I’d seen. The lady’s eyes was dark and lifted up at the corners when she smiled, reminding me on Ruby. And she had a smile that made you just wanna dive in and stay for a while—like Miss Claire’s. Then there was her hair. Long and dark brown—again, reminding me on Miss Claire’s—it laid on her shoulders in soft curls that kicked at the ends like the rounded check marks my teachers would put on my papers when I’d done a good job. Ever since that Elena showed me the picture of her mommy, I wanted to see it all the time. ’Cause even though the woman in the picture was Mes’can, I ’magined her to be Miss Claire and Ruby rolled into one—a mama for me.

Elena kept that picture in a little box under her bed. She didn’t know I knew where it was, but I think I loved that picture more’n she did, so even though she hid it away, I watched her carefully and found her special hidin’ place.