I nod so they’ll go on.
“You know Kitty and I have been together since high school,” Dad says. “And we’ve been committed to each other since then, but we went through a rough patch in our twenties. It seemed like a good idea to get married right after graduation, and then we couldn’t wait to have our first baby, our little girl.” He stops to smile at Mimi. “But we were only twenty-three when she was born, and it was harder raising a baby than we’d thought it would be.”
“By the time Mimi was three, we were still struggling and living in a one-bedroom apartment in Hyde Park,” Mom continues. “Your father was in med school and we were barely scraping by. I was terrified we were going to have to move in with Raymond’s parents.”
Dad nods. “You and me both. It was a tough time, and tensions were running high. Carlene had been living in a communal space with some people over in Iowa. She showed up out of the blue.”
Mom sighs. “Which usually meant she had outstayed her welcome with friends or made somebody angry. She said she just needed to stay a couple of nights, and I knew I needed to stop helping her. She wasn’t sober. But she’s my sister. I didn’t want to turn her away, either. She didn’t have anyone else.”
The server comes back to check on us, sees the looks on our faces, and turns right back around.
“I was going up to the bar around the corner to meet a friend for a drink,” Dad says. “Carlene said she was going to take a walk with me to get some fresh air and come right back to be with your mom and Mimi, and… I guess I knew deep down that she shouldn’t be anywhere near a bar at that point. Not even walking by one. But I was stressed out and I wanted a drink and I wasn’t thinking.” My father is twisting away at his napkin, and if it were paper, it would be torn to shreds by now. “She followed me right in and I didn’t have the energy to fight with her. She was going to do what she was going to do, anyway—she always had. I couldn’t stop her.”
Mom and Dad both hesitate, neither of them wanting to say what happened next, even though we all know. Mimi and I exchange a look. We’re not too eager to hear it, either.
Finally, Dad says, “A drink turned into two, which turned into I don’t know how many. It was foolish and beyond selfish, and I’ve never forgiven myself for stepping out on your mother. It was just one time, but that’s no excuse. I’m even sorrier that I didn’t tell her right away, but Carlene and I made a few bad decisions that night, and promising not to tell your mother was one of them.”
“She left before lunch the next day, and I didn’t see her again until she turned up six months pregnant, saying the baby was Raymond’s.” Mom’s hands shake so much she can’t pick up her coffee cup. Her features are so wracked with pain I have to look away from her. “I didn’t believe her. I knew she’d been with several men by that point, and she wasn’t always careful when she was drinking or using. But most of all, I couldn’t believe Raymond would be with her. We’d been together for almost ten years at that point, and he’d known Carlene all of them. It didn’t make sense to me.”
“I admitted to it,” Dad says, and now he abandons the napkin and puts his hand over Mom’s. She flinches, the memory too raw, but doesn’t pull her hand away. “And by some miracle, Kitty agreed not to leave me.”
Mom takes a deep breath. “I sent Carlene away.… Told her I never wanted to see her again, not with her bringing all those lies into my house. I still didn’t believe there was any way her baby could be Raymond’s, even after I knew the truth about what happened between them.”
I am dizzy. All this information is coming so fast, and I’m a little shocked at how open they’re being with Mimi and me. It’s like all those years of keeping quiet has pushed the floodgates wide open. Mimi squeezes my shoulder.
“I didn’t see Carlene again for a while. Not until you were six months old.” Mom smiles for the first time all night. “And my heart just melted when I saw you, Birdie. You were the sweetest, chubbiest, most serious little baby. I loved you the minute we met.”
I look down at the table.
“I also knew…” She pauses, catching her breath. “The minute I saw you, I also knew you were Raymond’s. You looked a little bit like me, in that way Carlene and I look a little alike. But you were Raymond’s baby. We got a paternity test to be sure, but I knew.”
Our appetizer comes out then: a seafood plateau, one of those dramatic tiered platters with oysters and fish and shrimp cocktail and mussels on beds of ice. I’m not hungry—I’m not sure any of us are—but we are collectively happy to have something to do with our hands and we dig right in.
“Carlene was sticking around Chicago for a while, staying with friends,” Mom says, a piece of shrimp in hand. “But I was worried about her. Worried about you, and what kind of situations she was putting you in. We were giving her money, and I tried to talk to her about it, but she was stubborn. Said nobody was taking her baby, and that she could do fine alone. Then—”
Her voice chokes. She opens her mouth to try again but shakes her head, staring hard at the shrimp.
Dad picks up where she left off. “Then one morning, before we were heading off to work and to drop Mimi at daycare, we got a call. From someone we didn’t know, who told us to come get a baby. They gave us an address and… it wasn’t Carlene who called, but we knew that baby had to be you.”
I stare at him. I can’t believe this story is about me, that there was this whole existence with Carlene that I know nothing about.
Dad’s eyes are watery. “The place was empty, except for a couple of people passed out here and there. It was dirty and abandoned. A drug house. We found you in the bathroom. Someone had put you in the tub. You were bundled in blankets, asleep in a broken car seat.”
“You looked so peaceful,” Mom cuts in as she dabs at her eyes with her napkin. “So innocent, and I promised myself that I wouldn’t give you back until Carlene had proved she could stay sober for more than a few months at a time.”
The anger inside me has been slowly melting away as they talk. It’s not completely gone, but the more they tell me, the harder it is to be so furious with them. They are telling the story of how much they love me. How they loved me enough to save me from what could have been a very different life than the one I’ve lived all these years.
“We’ve had you since you were eight months old,” Mom says. “And no, I didn’t give birth to you, but I’ve never thought of you as anything but mine, Birdie. Keeping this from you all these years… well, it wasn’t the smartest thing we’ve ever done. But we only wanted to protect you. Never wanted you to question where you come from or what you could be.”
My eyes are wet now. When I look over, Mimi is crying, too. This can’t be good for the restaurant, a whole family trying not to sob over a seafood plateau. My parents’ plan backfired. But I don’t care who sees us or what anyone else thinks. This is the most imperfect, honest moment my family has ever had, and I am not going to be ashamed of it.
“We’ve made some mistakes along the way,” Dad says. “And we’ll understand if it takes you some time to forgive us.”
“But the one thing we got right is taking you in,” my mother says. “You have always been such a bright spot in our lives.” She looks back and forth from me to Mimi. “We are so proud of you girls. We know we’re hard on you sometimes, but it’s because we love you. We love you both so much.”
CARLENE ASKED IF I WANTED TO GET SOMETHING TO EAT, BUT I SUGGESTED we go for a run instead. I need to cleanse the memory of sprinting across Laz’s friend’s yard and down the gangway like fugitives.
She is sitting on the front stoop when I get back from SAT prep, just like the first day I saw her. Only she’s in workout clothes and there’s no cigarette. I can tell she wants one by the way her fingers trace and tap along the steps.
“Hey,” she says, standing when she sees me. She exhales like she’s been holding her breath for a while. “I’m early.”
“Do you want to come up while I change?”
>
All her things were cleared out of Mimi’s room when we returned from Milwaukee.
“I’ll stay down here and stretch.”
I change into an old pair of soccer shorts and a tank, then meet her back downstairs. We do a few stretches together in silence. I poke my head into the shop to remind Mom I have plans with Carlene. Then we set off.
We take the same route as last time, and Carlene says hello to her friends along the way. But other than that, we don’t talk. It’s not the comfortable quiet from before, but it’s not completely tense, either. Somewhere in between.
I am sweat-soaked and panting by the time we reach Humboldt Park. We stop at the boathouse, leaning over the railing that overlooks the water.
“I think you’re getting worse at this running thing, kid,” she says, laughing at how winded I am.
I try to banter with her, but I’m too out of breath and have to hold up my index finger. When I finally catch my breath, I start laughing, too.
Carlene turns to the water, her smile fading. “So, you’re here. With me. I guess that means you don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.” I gaze out at the water, too. Ducks pop their heads in and out, skimming along the surface so gracefully they appear to be floating.
“Kitty said you were taking it pretty well. As well as you can, considering the shitshow we hit you with.” She looks at me now, and I meet her eyes. “I’m sorry, kid. I’m so fucking sorry for lying to you. For not being here. For not being able to get a grip on this shit and raise you myself.”
I swallow. “You couldn’t help it. I believe it’s a disease, too.”
“I wanted you more than anything in the world, but… One night, I was getting high and you were with me, but you were such a good sleeper—always a good sleeper—that I forgot. And I left you in the corner all night. I passed out. Forgot you were there until someone—they had to slap me across the face to wake me up.” She blinks rapidly, her lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. “And told me to take care of my baby. And I looked over and there you were, screaming your little head off. You must have been hungry or—I think you were teething, too. Maybe you just wanted to be held.”
I don’t interrupt her story. I just listen.
“I held you and you sucked on my finger until you fell asleep again. And you were just so forgiving. You didn’t care that I was an addict. I was the only person you knew, and you trusted me.” She rubs a hand over her face, but the tears she wiped away are replaced with new ones. “I knew I had to give you to someone who could take care of you. All the time. And Ray was your father, but Kitty was the person I trusted most. I knew she would love you as much as I did. As much as I do.” She sniffles. “My friend and I moved on to a new house the next day or the day after that… I can’t remember. But I had him call Kitty and Ray, tell them to come get you. I put you in the bathtub so no one would bother you until they got there.”
“How did you know they would come get me?” I ask in a small voice.
“Because they knew I needed help… and they knew you needed them.”
“I remember you coming into the shop once,” I say, ignoring the way my chin quivers. “I think I was about eight?”
She nods. “I was so fucked up I’m surprised Kitty didn’t call the police on me. I wanted to see you over the years, but she wouldn’t let me. Not until I sobered up for good. And that wasn’t happening, so I took a chance. But she pushed me out of there so fast I barely got to look at you. She filed for official guardianship the next week and I relinquished custody. I had to. You deserved better. You’ve always deserved better.”
“Why did you name me Dove?” I might as well ask everything I’ve ever wanted to know, now that the truth is out. The questions are also keeping my tears at bay because the more she talks, the harder it is to stop them from falling.
“I did quit using when I was pregnant with you. I found a halfway house that took me in, and I got clean for the last few months. Got a job, had a routine… I felt like I was a productive member of society for the first time in I don’t know how long.” She lets out a shuddery breath. “There was a bird book in the house. Some old battered thing, pages missing. But I loved looking at it. All those birds were calming. And the dove seemed so pure, so good. It stood for peace. The name sounded so pretty to me, and I knew that’s what I wanted to call you. I don’t know when I started calling you Birdie, but it stuck, and you’d look at me with your eyes all wide when I’d say it. And then… I was high as a kite when I got the tattoo, but it’s so I’d always have a part of you. Looking at it every day made me feel better, to know I put some good out in the world once.”
“What did you do all those years you were away? Where were you?” I don’t mean to sound accusatory, but I think it’s my right to know.
“Oh, Dove, I was everywhere. Nowhere. Out of my fucking mind.” She clutches the balustrade, the skin on her knuckles pulled tight. “I’ll tell you all about it sometime. But I want you to know that I never stopped caring about you. I thought about you all the time. I always wanted you. You are the best thing I’ve ever done, and I mean that.”
We are quiet again, watching a great blue heron glide over the water, wings spread wide.
“Where will you go now?” I ask when the silence is too much.
“I’m staying with Emmett, but I can’t keep crashing with him. I have a couple of interviews at other hair salons—just assisting, until I get my license. I can wait tables if those don’t work out. Kitty told me I didn’t have to get out, that she was angry when she said I needed to leave and didn’t mean it. But I think it’s time for me to make my own money and get my own place. Even if it’s just a studio. I’ve been relying on her and Ray for too long.” She pauses. “And I hope—well, I hope we can still have a relationship. I get it if you can’t forgive me for what I did. But I want to be in your life. I want to do better for you. Try to make it up to you if I can.”
“I’d like that,” I say softly. Immediately. “You don’t have to make it up to me. But I told Mom I’m not going to stop seeing you. So can we still go on runs and out to eat and just… talk?”
“Of course,” Carlene says, tentatively touching my wrist. “Of course we can do all of that. We can do whatever you want. But… you really told Kitty that you weren’t going to stop seeing me?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d she take it?”
I shrug. “She just said okay… and that she wouldn’t have tried to stop me. I guess she was just mad when she said all that.”
Carlene looks pleased.
“Will you still braid my hair?”
She laughs, her nose stopped up from her tears. “Anytime you want.”
“Carlene?”
“Yeah, kid?”
I clear my throat to make sure she hears exactly what I have to say.
“I love you, too.”
GREG LEANS CLOSE TO THE DASHBOARD, BARELY DRIVING TEN MILES PER hour as we look for the address I gave him.
“It has to be right around here,” Laz says. “Let’s just park and walk.”
We’re in Bronzeville, over on the South Side, trying to find Booker’s uncle’s auto shop. When I told Laz I was coming down here, he said he’d come with me. Greg was there, too, so he offered to drive. I started to protest at first, but I get nervous going to new places by myself. And Laz checked to make sure Booker was working today, but what if he isn’t here for some reason? At least then I won’t be alone.
The shop is on a corner, surrounded by a tall wrought-iron fence. The signage that wraps around the top of the building is neon yellow and simply says LES’S AUTO in black, with the phone number printed next to it.
I thought I’d gotten over my nerves about seeing Booker, but my heart starts its familiar pound as we walk through the gate, passing a few cars that look like they’ve been here for decades. Different size tires are stacked up in a couple of corners, and two cars are parked inside the garage, hoods open. The air is thic
k with motor oil.
A handful of black and brown guys are darting around in grayish-blue coveralls, talking and laughing over the radio that plays as they work. I hang back behind Greg and Laz, wondering if this was a mistake.
Greg turns around. “Over there,” he says, pointing to the corner of the garage.
My heart skips faster as I see Booker for the first time in almost a month. His broad back is turned to us as he searches through a rack of tools. And I think maybe this is enough, just to see the back of him. To know that he’s still here, still doing okay.
But then one of the guys sees us watching him and taps Booker on the shoulder. Says something so he turns around. And seeing his face feels so good I want to cry. He stares for a few seconds, mouth open and eyebrows up, then puts his head down and jogs over to us.
He slaps hands with Greg and Laz, who give him shit about his coveralls until, smiling, he pushes past them and tells them to take a walk.
Then he’s in front of me and I stop breathing.
“You’re here,” he says, then laughs a nervous laugh. “I mean, of course you’re here. Hi. I just didn’t expect to see you.”
I look around the property. “Your dad’s not here, is he? I think he’d get a restraining order against me if he had to.”
Booker sighs. “Sorry about him. I told him none of that was your fault, but he’s not trying to listen to me.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t come here to talk about him. I wanted to see you, before school starts again.” I take a breath. “And I’m so sorry, Booker. About the party and—”
“Dove. It’s not your fault.”
“I’m just really glad nothing happened to you. I was so worried.”
“I know, me too. I was lucky.” He grimaces. “Laz and I were both lucky.”
Luck shouldn’t have anything to do with it; he and Laz should’ve been treated the same as Greg and Mitchell—and me. But we both know that’s not how it works.
I focus on one of the tires behind him. “Laz said you have to do community service?”
The Revolution of Birdie Randolph Page 20
