Somebody's Someone (41 page)

The heat of the false words moved through me like a bad batch of Big Mama’s homemade chili. I couldn’t hold nothing on my stomach for too long. I had to spend long bouts on the commode. My nerves was getting bad right along with my guts. I told Miss Forde that I would need some time b’fore I could talk ’bout it again. In the meantime I went to see my head doctor and sat in quiet the whole time. More so than worryin’ ’bout that doctor asking me over and over if I wanted to talk ’bout it, I couldn’t help but figure out how I was gonna tell Miss Claire—if I even decided to tell her. I r’membered the pact I’d made with Marlena and realized that I’d already messed the whole thing up and that she was prob’ly not gonna wanna talk to me if word got back to her father. I decided to wait till later on that night, till I could get Miss Claire alone with me, and I’d try and come clean with her like they was always tryin’ to get us to do in the shelter—“come clean” so that we could move on from here and start anew. I hoped I could do just that.

“Miss Claire, I gotta talk to you; I gotta tell you something.” I could feel the wet running to my eyes like a sprinkler that was hooked up to a knotty hose and the knots was being undone one at a time. “I lied.” The tears came pouring out me. “I lied on Mr. Ballentino and I’m sorry.” Phew, I’d said it. My body was starting to feel light as a cotton ball. Now that I’d said what was true it didn’t matter to me too much that Miss Claire might be mad at me.

“Why did you lie about Mr. Ballentino, Regina?” Claire asked, her face quiet with wonder.

“B’cause I knowed that they was gonna send me away from here and from you, and I couldn’t take that. I don’t ever wanna leave you.” I watched as Miss Claire’s eyes filled with water, and she turned her head so that I couldn’t see directly in ’em.

“Look sweetheart, I think that you should leave your wellbeing up to the people who are caring for you. Regina, I believe that everyone has your best interests at heart. Plus, you never know when you could be getting in the way of God’s plan. Trust me, sweetheart. It’s all going to work out. And another thing: no matter what, you should never try and gain what you want for yourself at someone else’s expense. That will only mean that you didn’t get it fairly, and therefore it can never be truly enjoyed.”

She sat ’cross from me and told me how happy she was for me telling the truth. “Just remember what I’ve always told you: your life is up to you, honey, and you have done the best thing, by telling the truth and all on your own,” Claire told me. She leaned to me and grabbed ahold of me tight. We sat there like that, just for a while.

I’d always heard the grown folks preach that “the truth will set you free.” From how I was feeling, them was the truest words I knowed. The darkness that was covering my heart was gone, and I could feel it beat again. I couldn’t ’magine how folks could tell stories for years and not fess up to ’em, leaving people to believe whatever they was to tell ’em, and not think one thing ’bout how they lies might destroy a life that was innocent. I wanted to know why most of the folks I knowed didn’t know that for themselves, since they was s’posed to be the grown-ups. They was the ones who should’ve wanted more for me than I wanted for myself. That’s how come God gave us to ’em in the first place. I was glad to tell what was so, and watch what wasn’t go away. And now I was hoping Miss Forde could see that Claire helped me find the truth, and because of that, she wouldn’t make me go away.

CHAPTER TWENTY

SOMEBODY’S
SOMEONE

I OFTTIMES WONDERED
what made things like the sun and the moon wanna take turns and change off the way they did; giving each a time to shine and be as special as the other. I also figured that the sun and moon was hangin’ in the sky by secret strings nobody could see, not even if they looked with all they might. And I made up for myself that God was the one responsible. That he held things up in the sky with his big ole hands. And he used the clouds as his resting posts when his arms would get tired. He did that so that the clouds wouldn’t feel left out. I even ’magined the old man in the sky hitched his suspenders on the stars so he could stay steady while workin’. And the stars, in they own way, was able to help him keep things the way they was—pretty and abiding. Above all, I was happy to know that God was there to make certain everything had something to keep it going—even if it was a thing as small as a raindrop sliding down the throat of a blade of grass to keep it alive or a mama whispering “I love you, baby” in her child’s ear when it needed it most. No matter what—there’d always be something or someone for everybody. Somehow I made myself believe that God, in his plan, had made sure that nobody would never, ever in a million years be left on their own without being held up or helped out.

Claire, who was all for what was right, made me write a letter to my friend Marlena and her family, to tell ’em how ’shamed I was for what I’d done. Claire said that sometimes apologies could be like a sweetness wrapping round somethin’ wrong, making wrongdoings seem that much better. I thought ’bout her words for a while and wondered if it could work for Lula Mae, or my mother or my father or Big Mama for that matter. They knowed they was wrong for the things they’d done, and now I knowed it too. Deep down inside I was wishing that they could maybe make apologies to me.

Accordin’ to my social worker, I was to have no more contact with the Ballentino family. They were no longer interested in me having weekend home visits. I listened to Miss Forde go on ’bout it, and when she was finished I thought on calling Marlena and letting her tell me for herself. I really wanted to let my friend know how bad I felt for what I’d done and that I should’ve never lied on her father like that. Lately after doing anything sinful, something inside me wouldn’t let me feel too good ’bout myself. It was like I’d be touched by a heavy darkness as it crawled past my eyes and had a sit on the rest of me. And the harder I tried to keep quiet and tried to get away with whatever the sin was, the more my heart, mind, and belly would start acting up, and the deeper the darkness would rest on me. Only when I made my mind up to set things right did I seem to find rest and feel the shadows pass. I made up my mind to call my friend.

After my social worker left, I snuck into the staff office and punched in Marlena’s number. I’d planned that if one of her parents picked up the phone, I’d hang it up.

“Hello, Marlena.” It was her. “This is Regina. Is your father real mad at me?”

“No, but girl, you know you should’ve never said those things.”

“I know. I’m really, really sorry.”

“Yeah. Just don’t let that shit happen again. You know that you can’t come visit for a while, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Well, just let some time pass, and my parents will come around. Don’t worry, girl; you still cool with me.”

“Okay, thank you. Bye, Marlena.”

“Bye, Regina.”

I hung up the staff phone and slipped out the office so nobody could see me. I sat down in the TV room and let all that’d just happened sink in.

I couldn’t say why the words sounded different not coming from my social worker, but when Marlena said I couldn’t come to her house for a while I wanted to cry. Even though she told me to let time pass, somehow deep down, I knew I prob’ly wouldn’t be seeing her again. I thought back to the rest of what Miss Forde had told me when I asked her if my friend’s daddy was mad at me. She said, “No, he’s not mad at you, but he sure is sorry you had to go and do something like that. And Mrs. Ballentino is really upset.” My heart hurt for Mrs. Ballentino. She always welcomed me in her place and made sure that I had a li’l something to bring back with me on my weekend visits from they house. Once she gave me some li’l dumplin’-like things she’d made from potatoes and covered in spaghetti sauce called “no-key.” I’d liked ’em very much.

I wanted to ask Marlena ’bout Will—I needed to know if he’d been seen round the neighborhood lately—but I didn’t. As I sat on the couch, I lowered my head and thought that maybe he’d gone back to that Hawaii place and thought that it would be a better place to be. I figured that maybe one day I’d go and find him and let him know just how sorry I really was too.

I went to court a few days later. I can r’member sitting in the courtroom on that cold brown bench. My social worker said that my daddy was s’posed to be coming and maybe even my mama would be there. I figured that neither one would show and didn’t let myself get too hopeful. Anyway, I wasn’t gonna go wit’ ’em even if they did come. I was sick of the both of ’em.

It was the first time in a while I’d had to be in a courtroom. I sat in a seat next to Miss Forde while a man came in and put the court in line: “Order in the court.” His voice boomed the daylights outta me. I listened as the man sittin’ behind the big ole desk ask folks for the business at hand.

Miss Forde stood up and moved in front of a standing microphone. “Your Honor, I am here to present case number 45351—Regina Ollison. It is an emergency review for custody hearing.”

Miss Forde went on to say, “Regina’s problem continues to be one of having to live somewhere. For all practical purposes, she’s been abandoned by both parents. She now resides in the Edgar Children’s Shelter in Martinez, California. All attempts to secure possible reunification with family members have failed. As you can see, Mr. Hathaway isn’t present, and the minor’s mother—a Miss Ruby Carmichael—isn’t either. The court should note, on behalf of all the social workers who’ve been involved with this case, that we’ve tried numerous attempts to contact both Mr. Hathaway and Miss Carmichael, and of this date neither parent has shown an interest or concern for the minor. Although the minor’s father has made appearances at the children’s shelter, his visits have been sporadic at best and unpredictable. Staff has requested at this time that visitation rights between minor and father be reevaluated in that minor tends to become volatile and agitated after their visits. Her mother continues to reside in North Carolina, and her father resides in Richmond with his wife and two children. At no point since dependency was obtained has he been involved in planning for his daughter. In addition to the problem of the shelter, Regina is a very immature young woman who requires constant supervision and monitoring of her behavior. Impulse control has improved, but not to the extent that she could function independently.” Miss Motormouth went on to tell the judge that I was living at the shelter but that I needed more of a one-on-one placement, so that I could get the individualized treatment that I needed.

While I waited for ’em to finish, I tried to run through all the homes I’d lived in since I was small, and I believe I lost track after thirty. Suddenly, the judge spoke louder than he had before: “Minor will remain at the Edgar Children’s Shelter until a permanent solution is sought out. Case number 45351 is concluded, court dismissed.” The judge man slammed his li’l hammer down, and the court was over. They even had the nerve to give me my own number, to keep from having to call me by my rightful name. I figured they must’ve had a shitload of Reginas to have to give me a number instead. I thought about the number that they used to talk ’bout me. I’d already knowed ’bout my number b’cause I read a piece of my file that was hanging outta Miss Forde’s brief bag. I tried not to let it bother me that I wasn’t called by a name. Instead, I added all the numbers together and got eighteen. I figured it would be my lucky charm number, and that’s how old I’d be when I could have my own house, where I’d make a room for Claire, and nobody could tell me what to do. That way I could pay her back for taking care of me.

Miss Forde explained I’d been named “a ward of the court.” It meant that I didn’t belong to Ruby and Glenn no more. I now belonged to the state of California. I was its property. And as quick as a flash my mind figured that since I belonged to the state and Miss Claire worked for the same folks, that now it would most likely be easier for her to become my mama if she wanted. I couldn’t wait to see her to let her know.

We drove to the shelter mostly in quiet, me not quite knowing what all of what I’d just heard meant. When I did talk I went right for what I wanted. I asked Miss Forde that if Ruby and Glenn didn’t want me if that meant somebody else could have me. She said techn’ly yes. But that the courts would decide that based on all the evidence they had ’bout me. She told me that if somebody was interested in wanting me that it would take a long time to get what was necessary to take care of me, ’cause I belonged to the state. I asked her if folks got paid for taking care of kids like me. She said they did. Then I asked her how come more people didn’t do it if they got paid for it. I asked her how come they didn’t let folks of different kinds live together. I asked her what matter was it if they color was a li’l off. But she didn’t have no answers. She just kept talkin’ ’bout red tape or something.

We pulled up into the driveway of the shelter like we had done so much before. I knew it was Miss Claire’s day on, so I ran into the building and slammed through the double doors. Out the corner of my eye I could see Miss Forde signing me back into the shelter.

“Hey, slow down,” she shot at me. But I didn’t stop; I just changed to a skip wit’ the same pace. I was in a hurry. I came to the orange-colored doors that kept the girls’ section closed to the rest of the buildin’. Pushing with both my hands, I slammed through while the doors hit the sides of the wall with a big
boof!
That’s when I seen her.

Miss Claire was in the corner of the kitchen, balled up in a lump on the floor. I stood real still, not knowing what to do. There was noise all over the place—kids running wild as al-ways—but nobody seemed to be paying her no mind. She looked like a li’l girl tryin’ to squeeze her broke-up body into the crack b’tween the wall and the stove. Her feet was pointing at one another, and she had a piece of what looked like toilet paper in her hands, which was hangin b’tween her knees. As I came closer, I looked on while she took the wrinkled-up paper and spread it out wide ’nough to cover her whole nose as she blew a whole ball of snot right into the middle of it. My own hands was landed by my sides. I picked up one of my feet then the other, and I tried to move as close to her as fast as I could.