by Keziah Frost
Queen tugged on her sleeve.
“Don’t be looking at people,” Queen instructed her.
They had to sit down and wait again. Hope tried not to look at people. Queen sat back in her chair, watching the door that led into the prison.
At last, a guard led in one more woman in an orange jumpsuit.
“Mama!”
Queen ran to the prisoner and hugged her tightly, as if she would never let her go. They walked, Queen and her mama, to the table, where Queen introduced Hope.
Queen’s mother was a slight woman, not tall, with beautiful large eyes like Queen’s. Like the other prisoners, she seemed weighed down and cautious. At the same time, her face was radiant with the happiness of seeing her child. She held out her hand to Hope.
“Hello Miss Delaney.”
“Hello Miss Jones.”
Dahleeya sat down. “I want to thank you for taking care of my baby.”
Queen climbed on Dahleeya’s lap and buried her forehead in her mother’s neck.
“It’s my pleasure, really. Queen brings a lot of happiness to my life.” Hope wondered if she shouldn’t talk about her own happy life, knowing that the woman before her had no happiness.
But Dahleeya lit up even brighter than before.
“That’s my girl!” she said with shy pride, patting Queen’s head. “Now, look at those braids,” she said, drawing her head back so she could see them better. “Baby, who did your hair like that?”
Hope felt stricken. Had she done something wrong?
“Hope does my hair,” said Queen, simply.
“Well, she does a wonderful job!” smiled Dahleeya, undoing Queen’s braids. “Really, a wonderful job, Miss Delaney. I don’t want you to think I’m critical of how you did it. You did it perfectly. It’s just that—well, I always braid Queen’s hair when she comes. It’s just something we do. Kind of a bonding thing, you know?” The open little barrettes were piling up on the table.
Hope didn’t know that braiding hair could be a bonding thing. So far, for her, it was still a very hard thing, and she wasn’t sure she was doing it very well.
While Dahleeya unbraided and re-braided Queen’s hair, they talked as if Hope were not there. She was glad. She didn’t want to intrude. She wanted them to have this time together, and would have asked a guard if she could sit in another room, if she had not been afraid of the guards. She stole a glance around. Most of the people there were black. She thought of the unfairness in sentencing articles she had been reading online that said that whites do not go to prison for the crimes that black people do. She wondered what all these women in orange jumpsuits had done.
Queen asked her mom, “Are you getting good food? What do they give you?”
Dahleeya detailed her diet of the last few days, and Queen seemed content.
Then Queen asked, “And your bed, is it nice?”
Dahleeya assured Queen that her bed was “good.”
“And you, baby? Is your bed nice?” Dahleeya glanced conspiratorially at Hope, as if to say, we’re just talking; I know her bed is nice.
“Mama, you should see it. A white headboard and a white comforter. And the prettiest little room all to myself with a desk for me to do my writing.” Queen glanced at Hope, as if to say, See, I’m telling my mama good things, and I appreciate what you have given me.
“You still working on your book, honey?”
“Yes, mama. Every time they move me to a new house, I make sure to take my notebook. I’ve been working on it for years.”
Dahleeya smiled again at Hope, as if to say, Years. Did you hear this baby say ‘years’!?
“And you’re doing your homework, aren’t you?” asked Dahleeya. Hope felt the weakness of this mother’s position. How could she see to it that her child did her homework?
“Yes, mama. We have a routine. After school I get a snack, and then I do my homework.”
Dahleeya turned to Hope.
“It’s hard for her to keep up when she keeps moving from school to school. I’d like her to stay in one place and just focus on growing up and doing her school work. But she gets moved a lot.”
Queen broke in. “Mama! I have a joke!”
“Oh, I do love a joke! Tell me!”
“Okay. Which dinosaur knew the most words?”
Dahleeya repeated the question, seeming to search her brain for the answer. Finally she said, “I sure don’t know.”
Triumphant, Queen declared, “The thesaurus!”
Queen giggled and Dahleeya and Hope smiled.
Dahleeya repeated the punchline, adding, “Well, I never would have guessed that. That’s a smart joke.”
Again, Hope felt she was intruding. She wondered how different their interaction would be if she were not there; how different it would be if they were not in a prison visiting room. She thought of the Wish Fairy social worker explaining to her, “children of incarcerated parents, you can’t imagine how hard it is to see their authority figure disempowered. Do you understand? It shakes a child up.” The Wish Fairy had also said, “When you are sitting in the visiting room of the prison, you’ll see the dynamics. I think of it as ‘public parenting.’ The moms and kids can’t be normal or natural with each other. Their behavior is being observed constantly, and they know it.”
Hope felt intrusive observing Queen and her mother.
Dahleeya was saying, “Baby, you know this isn’t your fault now.”
Dahleeya told Hope, “Queen was acting up all the time in her foster homes. She never was like that before, when she was with me. She finally told me she thought it was her fault that I’m in here.” Dahleeya turned back to Queen. “We’ve got that all cleared up now? You understand? That’s my baby.”
Hope asked, “Her fault? Why would she ever think that?”
“Oh, kids always blame themselves, you know. And in our case….”
“In your case?”
“Do you know why I’m here? They must have told you.”
Queen began to hum, and then she wandered over to the empty table next to theirs to look at a board game.
Hope answered, “They said—I think it was—larceny, among some other non-violent charges.”
“That’s all they told you? So you don’t know how I committed larceny? I’ll tell you then. I claimed residence in another neighborhood. And that’s called ‘defrauding the taxpayers.’ We were living in a rough part of town. I affirmed on a piece of paper that we lived in the wealthy area.”
“Why?” Hope was dumbfounded. “I mean, why would you do that, and why would they send you to prison for that?”
“Queen was five years old. Smart little girl, all ready for kindergarten. Can you picture that? Now. What kind of school do you think they had in our neighborhood?” Dahleeya paused, to let Hope imagine. “Now. What kind of chances in life do you think my daughter would have if, instead of going to the crappy school, she could go to the quality one?”
“So you said you lived in the good neighborhood so she could go to a decent school?”
“You got it. I had a friend by the good school. I just listed her address as our own. Queen went off to school with her new backpack, all ready to learn. But I got caught. That’s why she thought it was all her fault.”
“Wait. You don’t mean to say you’re in here for that? That’s outrageous! That’s not a prison offense. It can’t be.”
Hope was turning this over in her mind. This was the worst injustice she had ever seen. She would talk to her Aunt Carlotta. They’d get a good lawyer for Queen’s mother. They would fight this.
“Yeah, well. That’s the system.”
“But that’s not fair!”
Dahleeya raised her eyebrows and a mocking smile played about her lips, but her eyes were haunted.
“That’s all you did? Just lie about where you lived?”
“Actually, that’s not all. I had a record for drugs from before.”
“Oh.” Hope stopped up short. She considered. “But you already
paid for that?”
“Yes, but there were also some current drug charges. I was selling a little cocaine.”
Dahleeya watched Hope process this.
“Miss Delaney, what I did was wrong. It was also stupid. Not the school part. I stand by the school part. My daughter has every right to a good education, and I know in my heart that is true. But the other parts. My own. Stupid. Fault. That’s it, that’s all.”
Hope still suspected that if she herself had done the same things, she would not be wearing an orange jumpsuit. Dahleeya had to know this, too, but was not mentioning it. Even if she were angry, railing against white society to Queen’s white foster mother wouldn’t feel safe. She needed to stay on Hope’s good side if she wanted to see her daughter. Which wasn’t fair, either.
Queen had circled back and climbed up on Dahleeya’s lap again.
“Can I just stay with you?”
“Now, you already know the answer to your own question. So why you got to ask? And you will never, never stay in a place like this. Do you hear me? You’re going to college. You’re going to make me proud. Are you doing your homework every day now?”
Queen said, “I already told you yes.”
Dahleeya pulled her head back so that Queen could see her face very well, and gave her a look.
“Sorry mama. Yes, I do my homework, ma’am.”
“That’s better. I know, honey. I know you’re my good girl.”
Queen said, “We packed us a picnic lunch. We brought sandwiches from Hope’s café. You are going to love them!”
They ate their lunch and talked about Queen’s school, and the after-school hours when Mr. Zelenka and Mrs. Moon took care of her. They talked about Renata’s restaurant and about Miss Summer Moon teaching Queen Spanish. They talked about the spoiled girl across the street and how her mother didn’t know how to do limits. They talked about their ride this morning, and how beautiful the countryside was.
After lunch, they played a board game. Queen gave Dahleeya an update on The Secret Garden, and then she asked about her mother’s school.
Dahleeya explained to Hope, “I’m pursuing a bachelor of arts in psychology. There’s this program that links us with colleges on the outside. When I finish it, I’m going to pursue my masters.”
Queen lifted her head high. “I’m going to pursue my masters, too.”
“You sure are,” said Dahleeya.
As the afternoon wore on, Hope began to feel less uncomfortable in the prison visiting room. She began to see Queen in a new light, compliant, affectionate, and respectful. Watching Queen and her mother, Hope understood the Wish Fairy’s claim that these visits would be good for Queen emotionally. She had never seen Queen so relaxed, so unguarded. Hope wondered how many visits she would need to have to build trust with Queen’s mother, so that she could broach the subject of adoption.
Dahleeya, as if reading her mind, said, “So, Miss Delaney, you want to adopt my baby?”
Hope felt her heart thump.
“A social worker from Children and Family Services told me you’re a good match. And that you were interested. Since all three of us are here,” Dahleeya seemed to be addressing Queen more than Hope, “I thought we ought to talk about it, see where we stand.”
Queen shifted awkwardly and pressed herself closer to Dahleeya.
Grateful for this opening, Hope launched forward.
“Miss Jones, I’ve always wanted to have children. That’s why I became a foster mother. I think Queen is adapting well in my home. She’s settling into the school and life with my family. It’s a good school we have in Gibbons Corner. Yes, I’d very much like to adopt her. Would you let me do that?”
Dahleeya smiled the widest and most beautiful smile.
“I’ve already signed over my rights, Miss Delaney. But I appreciate your asking my permission. And, yes, I think that would be wonderful. What do you think, baby?”
“I think it would be very nice,” said Queen. “If you think so, mama.”
Hope added, “There is one thing I worry about. There are no other African American children in our town, as far as I know. I know that’s not ideal. But is it ok? I mean, do you think it will be a problem?”
Dahleeya studied Hope’s face for a moment.
“Listen, Miss Delaney. I don’t expect life anywhere to be perfect for my daughter. All I want is for her to have a fair chance, and someone who will have her back. I think she’ll have that with you. That’s enough. Going from home to home like she has been—even if some of them are with black people—that hasn’t worked out so well for her…. I can see that you’re making a stable home for my child.”
Dahleeya stopped and stared hard at the table. Hope sensed that she was working on not crying, that she couldn’t cry in front of guards and other prisoners. She mastered her emotions and resumed.
“That stability means a lot. That means everything.”
“Don’t be sad, mama,” whispered Queen. “Nothing’s sad.”
Dahleeya smiled and took a deep breath.
“That’s right, sugar. Nothing’s sad.” Dahleeya considered. She said to Hope, “Maybe it’s hard for you, wanting to be a mother, and you have Queen here who has a mother already?”
She seemed to see the answer in Hope’s eyes.
She continued, “Queen needs us both. She needs to know that I love her and that I think about her all the time, and I have dreams for her. But I’m gonna be in here for another eight years. So, at the same time, she needs a mother who is with her every day, taking responsibility for her every minute, a mother who can show her the way to reach for her dreams out there in the world. This child needs us both. Not one more than the other. Both.”
-73-
Norbert’s customer was a man in his mid-seventies, but fit, energetic, and bursting with an urgent question. He held the deck of cards in his hands, and hesitated before shuffling.
“Did you ever know a woman that you just could not forget?”
“Ah,” deflected Norbert, “this is about an unforgettable woman.”
“It sure is, my friend. Let me give you some background information before we start. Back in Rochester, years ago, I met an incredible woman. Her name was Mabel. Mabel Paine. The chemistry was amazing. We had wonderful times together, but we parted on bad terms. I’ve thought of her a million times over the years. I’ve never met anyone like her since. Well, back in June, I took a little vacation here in Gibbons Corner, and who do I run into in the Alibi, but--.” He paused a moment to allow Norbert to insert a wild guess.
“Mabel Paine?”
“You got it! She was lit up like a goddam Christmas tree, thrilled to see me and catch up on all that’s happened since our romance in Rochester. The years just melted away. We got to talking about the past and all the fun we had, and it was great, reliving old times. Then we got to the part about why we broke up, and we both remembered it differently, and she got mad at me all over again, see? But we had another drink, I thought the night ended on a good note, and I hoped to start seeing her again. Afterwards, I realized I hadn’t gotten her phone number, or any way to reach her. I guess I’d had one glass too many. But I wasn’t worried. I knew I’d run into her again in such a small town.
“The next day, I’m on the bus, coming back from Edwards Cove to Gibbons Corner, and who do you think is on the same bus?”
Norbert ventured a guess. “Mabel Paine?”
“Right again! Except, she said she wasn’t Mabel! She gave me the brush off. She got all huffy and told the bus driver I was bothering her. Can you believe it?”
Norbert shook his head in sympathy.
“Well, she was so mad, I started to doubt myself.”
Norbert’s eternal smile was spreading from one ear to the other.
“You think my story’s funny? There’s more. I went back home to Buffalo. But after that, I kept thinking about her. I thought, that was Mabel, I’m sure of it. And I need to know why she blew me off like that. Then I thought, if
that wasn’t Mabel, then that is a woman I would like to know better, because she looks just like Mabel. I was going cuckoo with the whole thing. So I came back to Gibbons Corner a couple of days ago. I thought, in a town as small as this, I’ll run into that woman, whoever she is, as sure as pie. So what do you think happened then?”
Norbert hazarded another guess. “You ran into her?”
“You bet!” The man checked his watch. “Hey, I know the reading’s only twenty minutes. Let me tell you the rest, real quick, before I shuffle the cards. I only have one question.”
Norbert nodded, and sat back to enjoy the rest of the story.
“I was sitting in Bailey’s Irish Pub on Quaintance Court, eating a sandwich and drinking some Guinness, when who walks in?”
“Uh, Mabel Paine?”
“Hey, you’re good at this! She walks right up to my table and sits down. So I say, why did you give me the old heave ho on the bus that day, and she says, get this, That wasn’t me, I swear. And she’s smiling like it’s real funny. Then she says, maybe I dreamt it.”
Norbert prompted, “And your question is?”
“My question is, does she have multiple personalities? Because I know I didn’t dream it. So I need to know, does she have, you know, alters, I think they call them? You know, like in the soap opera everyone used to watch, you know the one?”
“I see. Well, I can’t diagnose people, you know, but we can have a look at what the cards have to say about you and this impressive woman.”
Norbert could not bring himself to break the doppelganger spell. He could so easily have disabused Walter of his delusion on the spot. But like Carlotta before him, he found himself helpless to resist the farce that wanted to play itself out.
“Great!” said Walter, “Let’s get to the cards. And then, I just thought of my second question: should I marry her?”
“Would you marry her—if she had multiple personalities?”
“You better believe it, my friend! She’s the most exciting woman I’ve ever met.”
-74-
Carlotta and Margaret were coming out of Butler’s Book Store after a successful shopping expedition for a novel with an African American girl as the protagonist. Arnie had assured Carlotta that When the Black Girl Sings by Bil Wright would be high enough in reading level and interest for Queen.
