by J. J. Murray
"But what about the rest of her?" she says with a frown. "Where is the rest of your pretty mama?"
Those are the magic words. Dee's hands slide up under the table, palms up. He stands, kicks his chair back, and heaves the table up till it flips over with a crash, flattening the crayon box. Whoa. This child has his daddy's shoulders. Then he just stands there, his eyes wild, his body stiller than still. The room is silent. The cookie factory is temporarily on a work stoppage.
I don't want to look at Mrs. King because I'm afraid I'm gonna bust out laughing. I imagine her pouty red lips forming the most delicious little O. "Dee Jones, that just wasn't necessary. Mrs. Borum, I hold you responsible for this little outburst."
Lord God, please keep me from killing this woman. I turn to her and keep my voice calm. "Dee drew that picture of his mama for me. If you will look on the other side, you will see a drawing of the accident that took her life. She doesn't have a body because her face was probably the last thing Dee saw of her." Either that or he doesn't want to remember the rest of her.
She turns the paper over and stares. "Well, Mrs. Borum, why didn't you tell me all this?"
God, You still there? I'm about to say some vile things. Go work on that Middle East thing for a while. I stand and tower over Mrs. King. "I tried to tell you, Mrs. King, but you interrupted me. You've done that to me often today. Is interrupting people another one of your procedures?"
"Excuse me, Mrs.
"Nah, bitch, you excuse me" I wave a finger in her face, and the room is so quiet that I swear I hear a couple children poot. I have just said the B word. "This child has just spoken to the world with these drawings, and it's a breakthrough for Dee; but you can't get your ashy, brunette-rooted head out of your skinny tight ass long enough to see that. Must be hard breathing with your head up your ass, but somehow you do it, cuz all you doin' is talkin' shit."
Mrs. King's lower lip bobs up and down.
I snatch the drawing from her. "This drawing ain't goin' up on no big board. This child's pain ain't gonna be on display for the world to see. It's going home to his daddy .. ."
My voice trails away when I notice tears welling in Dee's eyes. God, come back. I'm gonna need You. I didn't mean to make Dee cry.
"You sendin' us to the office, Mrs. King?" I ask.
Mrs. King's eyes drop to her nasty open-toed shoes. "I, uh, no. That won't be necessary."
I scoop up Dee. "Well, I'm sendin' us to the office" I wipe away Dee's tears, whisper, "Let's go, Little Man," and we leave the pre-K building. By the time we get to the office, Dee's tears have dried, like his body has sucked them back into his face. I set him on the bench and sit beside him. Two children, probably third or fourth graders, stare at us from the hall, and I stare back till they scamper off. Yeah, we bad.
Mrs. Holland stops filing and leans on the counter. "Is this...
I nod.
Mrs. Holland smiles, creeps around the counter, and stands in front of us. "We heard the whole thing," she whispers. "Principal Carter and I heard the whole thing."
"How?"
She points at the loudspeaker on the wall. "Those are all two-way, have been since Avery was built. Probably to root out the Communists way back when. We can listen in on any class we want to, but you didn't hear it from me. We got your back, Ruthie Lee"
"Thank you"
She waves a wrinkled hand at us. "Don't mention it. One of the many and various perks of the job" She winks at Dee and creeps back to her file cabinet.
Principal Carter's door opens, and he steps out. "IN MY OFFICE NOW, YOU TWO!" he thunders.
Both Dee and I slip off the bench, eyes down. Dee grabs my hand, and I grab it back. Daa-em, my first day, and I'm in the principal's office. We walk by Principal Carter, who slams the door behind us and storms to his huge chair behind his huge desk.
"WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH YOU TWO?" he shouts. He points to two chairs and whispers, "Just relax and have a seat"
Say what? Principal Carter is possessed!
"THAT'S TWICE TODAY THAT YOU'VE UPSET THE CONTINUITY AND TRANQUILITY AND UNITY OF THIS SCHOOL!" he shouts again. He points at the drawing and whispers, "Let me see that" I hand him the drawing with a shaky hand. "This is very good, Dec," he whispers. "Maybe you'll be an artist and a football player." Oh, I get it. Principal Carter is the good cop and the bad cop all at the same time. It's scary, but it's effective. He hands me the picture, then slams his massive hand on the desk. "TWO WEEKS' IN-SCHOOL SUSPENSION FOR BOTH OF YOU!" He smiles and whispers, "You only work Tuesdays and Wednesdays, right?" I nod. "OKAY, IF THAT'S THE WAY YOU WANT IT, FIVE WEEKS!" He shakes with laughter and whispers, "On Tuesdays and Wednesdays only, that is."
I squeeze Dee's hand. "Mr. Dec," I whisper, "you're gonna see a lot of me every Tuesday and Wednesday. That all right with you?" He shrugs, nods, and almost smiles.
"NOW, GET OUT OF MY OFFICE AND SIT ON THAT BENCH OUT THERE TILL THE LAST BELL RINGS! AND YOU THINK HARD ABOUT WHAT YOU TWO HAVE DONE!" He checks his watch and whispers, "Bell rings in five minutes. Sorry for all the yelling. Have to keep up my rep. And try to, um, regulate your choice of words in the future, Mrs. Borum "
"I'm sorry, I just-"
"Woman makes me curse, too," he interrupts. "But I don't say it in front of twenty four-year-olds."
Ouch. I nod. "It won't happen again."
He smiles. "I bet it will." He's probably right. "And try to look guilty while you're sitting out there, okay?"
"I understand," I whisper, making a gruesome frown. "Dee, you frown, too" Like he needs to be asked. The corners of his little mouth droop, and we leave looking like two sad little puppy dogs.
While we sit on that bench looking guilty, I think back to all the times I heard Principal Carter yelling at someone in his office. You could hear it all over the school, and it made everyone, even a few teachers, tremble and shake. And now, I wonder how many of those kids didn't get punished at all.
"Dee's daddy picks 'em up at the yellow curb out front," Mrs. Holland says. "But he is never on time, so Tee and Dee wait in here till he arrives." She chuckles. "Y'all start lookin' more pitiful now. Bell's about to ring."
I step to the counter, folding Dee's picture and sliding it into my pocket. "Mr. Baxter is always late?"
"He's been late every day so far."
I don't know if I can abide a tardy man. Jonas was always early particularly in bed but I hate being late for anything. It may be in my culture, but it ain't in me. "How late we talkin'?"
She flips open a notebook filled with dates and times, sliding her finger down the page. "Ten minutes ... fifteen minutes ... twelve minutes ... twenty-two minutes ... eight minutes yesterday." She shuts the book. "He hasn't been on time yet this year."
"Did," I whisper, "did their mama pick up Tee last year?"
Mrs. Holland nods. "She came to Tee's room last year with Dee, and the three of them walked home together. Every day." Mrs. Holland's eyes twinkle. "Nice day for a walk, huh?"
I bite my lips to hide the smile. "Sure is. But Mr. Baxter might panic if his kids aren't here when he gets here" I know that I'd panic if I was their mama.
"So you know Mr. Baxter."
I drop my eyes. "Not really."
"Uh-huh." The bell rings, and children fill the halls.
I look at Mrs. Holland. "Really. I only cut some hair. That's all."
She looks around me to Dee. "You do nice work"
"Thank you"
Tee skips into the office and goes right to Dee. "I hear you been bad, little boy," she says in that older voice of hers. She jumps onto the bench and smiles at me. "And I hear you been bad, too, Penny."
I clasp my hands and hold them at my waist. "Yes. I've been very bad."
Tee giggles. "Daddy's gonna be so mad at you two!"
I wince and look at Mrs. Holland. "Uh, help me out here"
"I'd go for your walk," Mrs. Holland says, "but don't leave campus. Walk by Tee's classroom first, then stop by the playground out back. I'
ll smooth things out with Mr. Baxter and send him to you"
"Thanks" I turn to Tee and Dee. "Why don't you show me your classroom, Tee?"
"But Daddy's gonna pick us up soon," Tee says.
"I'm sure your daddy won't mind. Mrs. Holland will tell him where we are. We may even play a bit on the monkey bars"
Tee shrugs. "Okay, I guess" She takes Dee's hand. "Come on, bad boy, we goin' for a walk."
As we walk out, Dee latches on to my hand, and the three of us swing arms down the hall. God, if heaven is anything like this, I'll never want to leave.
We stop at Miss Freitag's room, and Tee sticks her head in first. "Good. She's not here"
"Well, I don't think we should go in if your teacher's not here," I say.
Tee pulls me in. "Come on" I let her pull me in and am surrounded by colorful everything: numbers, letters, pictures, drawings, and handprints. She points at a little desk and chair. "That's where I sit." Right next to the teacher's desk. How awful, unless ...
I see a chart with children's names on it and notice five red blotches next to Tee's name. The rest of the children have greens and yellows. Tee been bad, too. Daily. "What do these red marks mean, Miss Tee?"
Tee shrugs. "I dunno. Wanna see our gerbil, Penny?"
I check out the gerbil, and Tee taps the glass and makes faces. "Tee, don't those red marks mean you have been misbehaving?"
Tee shrugs again. "I guess" She smiles at me. "Just like you, Penny." She got me. "Oh, wanna see something really neat?" She pulls me to an aquarium full of goldfish and presses her nose to the glass. "You do it, too, Dee," she says, and Dee flattens his nose on the glass. The fish swarm around their cute freckled noses.
"Why do they do that?"
"Don't know," Tee says, her lips scrunched up on the glass.
"May I help you?"
I turn and see a white woman who couldn't be more than sixteen, five feet tall at most with bushy eyebrows and stubby hands. This must be Miss Freitag, and she looks pissed. "Uh, I'm just watching these children till their daddy gets here. I'm a volunteer. Hope you don't mind. You have such pretty fish, and a pretty room, too"
"Tee," Miss Freitag says in the highest-pitched voice. Girl sounds like Minnie Mouse. "You know I don't like you doing that."
Tee rolls her eyes at me and pulls me and Dee away from the aquarium. "The fish like it, Miss Freitag," she says, and she keeps pulling us out into the hall.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Freitag," I call out (though I don't mean it) as I'm pulled by both children to the doors leading to the playground. This is a ride I can get used to!
Once we're outside, they release me, tear to the jungle gym, and are swinging from the monkey bars before I can blink. I feel a little sadness -I could never even climb the ladder to the bars without difficulty but shake it off as a new emotion grabs me by the throat. Fear. "Y'all be careful now," I say, walking under their flailing arms and legs. If just one of these children falls ... God, keep Your angels handy. These children are defying Your gravity today. And while we're talkin' here, why didn't You make the ground softer? It's much too hard on my feet.
Happily they quit swinging through the air and climb up and shoot down the slide. I try to talk to them, but they ain't havin' it. I don't blame them. They probably go from here to the apartment ... and that's all the activity they get till lights out. I find a bench and sit, smiling in the sun. Bet Mama's kissing me right about now.
So this is what watching your children play is like: catching your breath when it looks like one of them is about to fall, laughing as they laugh, clapping when they've done something miraculous-and worrying the entire damn time, your butt barely on the bench, your legs ready to leap to the rescue. Daa-em, they givin' me a workout, and I ain't even the one playing.
They're both at the top of the slide, Dee in front of Tee, ready for their twentieth descent in the last two minutes it seems, when Dewey appears suddenly to my left. "Hi, Daddy!" Tee calls. "Watch this!"
They slide down together and spill onto the sandy ground, Tee giggling, Dee smiling ear to ear. They jump to their feet and race each other to the ladder.
"Where do they get their energy?" I say to Dewey. His coveralls are one big black stain, the circles under his arms darker black, his Chicago Cubs hat tipped up, dark smudges under his eyes. He wears shit-kicker boots, the kind with five-pound metal slabs in the toes, and carries two book bags. Oops, I forgot about the kids' book bags. I smile. "You gonna sit and rest a bit, Mr. Baxter?"
He sits, setting the book bags on the space between us, sighing heavily. "Feels good to sit." He groans, stretching out his legs.
I get a whiff of his stank body, and it is ripe. "Your children are somethin', Mr. Baxter."
"Yup„
"Oh," I say. I take out the picture, unfolding it in front of Dewey. "Dee spoke to me today."
"He did? That's wonderful! What'd he say?" Dewey's face is beaming, and he isn't looking at the drawing. Oh shit.
"Uh, I shouldn't have said `spoke,' Mr. Baxter. He drew those pictures for me, and they told me a lot." Dewey looks carefully at both sides, nodding his head, his face beaming no longer. "That child sure can draw."
Dewey folds it quickly and stuffs it into his shirt pocket. "Never could draw myself. Takes after his mama."
That's it? No reaction to the drawing at all? "What do you, um, think of his drawing?"
"I've, uh, I've seen it before" Seen it before? How could he have seen it before if Dee just drew it today? He stands. "Come on, y'all. Time to go home"
Tee groans, and Dee shoves his hands into his pockets, but both children come running.
"Dee drew those pictures today, Mr. Baxter"
He nods. "And yesterday and the day before. I have a collection of a hundred of these at home"
Damn. That child is reliving that nightmare daily... and I just helped him to do it today. This day isn't ending the way I want it to end. "Mr. Baxter, I could watch 'em for a while, even walk 'em home if you like. I'm sure you'd like to get cleaned up, take a load off."
"Maybe some other time," he says in a soft voice. "Thanks for the offer." He straps a book bag on each child. "Nice to see you again, Ruth"
I watch them walk away till they disappear around the side of the school and feel all mixed up. Dewey called me by my real name, which is wonderful, but not to take me up on my generous offer? He could have gotten himself cleaned up, maybe gotten a long nap. Dag, I didn't mean to interrupt his daily routine. I should have just handed the drawing to him without saying anything. That man wants his boy to speak again in the worst way, and I just built him up and let him down.
I bury my head in my hands. I know, Lord Jesus, I know. Slow down, Ruthie Lee. All in Your good time, love takes time, healing that little boy takes time ... But couldn't You maybe just once speed things up for me? I ain't no spring chicken anymore. You know I would be a good mama to those children, and I feel something for that man. It's Your love, but it's something more, and I want it to be something more, stank as he is. I laugh. But it's a good stank, Lord. It's a working man's stank, and I like it.
I stand and drift toward the monkey bars. And ain't I been waitin' long enough for something good to happen to me? I ain't never asked You what I did to deserve Jonas and the miscarriages. 1 know I cussed You, and I'm sorry about that. But You invented language, right? And all through this shit (sorry), I have never questioned why it's happened. Ain't I been a good and faithful servant? When will all those showers of blessings rain down on me? I stop at the bottom of the stairs. Tell You what, if I can go all the way across these monkey bars, something You know I have never done before, You have to bless me quick. Deal?
I look around before climbing the ladder. I don't want no audience. I don't see anyone. So far so good. I lean out and grip the first bar with both hands and drop, my feet almost touching the sand. My shoulders immediately scream in pain. Lord Jesus, You said if I had the faith of a mustard seed, I could move mountains. Well, here I am, Mou
nt Penny, and I'm tryin' to move. I loosen my right hand to reach for the second bar ... and fall flat on my ass, sand flying up into my face.
I crunch the sand with my hands and sit a moment. Couldn't lose that bet, could You? I know, never put the Lord thy God to the test. I stand and dust myself off. Serves me right. I spent twenty-five years waiting for the first one, and here I am expecting another in a week's time. Dewey doesn't even see me yet. He sees Penny, an overweight hair stylist who volunteers at an elementary school. He might call me Ruth, but he doesn't see Ruth yet.
I have faith, Father, but I just don't have enough strength, enough beauty.
But I know how to get it.
And some skinny-ass bitches gonna help me, starting tonight.
Eight
"Shouldn't you go see your doctor first?" Naomi says. "That's what they always say, you know. Always consult a physician before-"
"I know what they say, Naomi," I interrupt, munching on a carrot that tastes like every other carrot I've ever eaten. They ought to flavor carrots with chocolate or something. I mean, if they're so good for you, spice 'em up so more people will experience that goodness. I pull the phone cord as far as it will go, but I can't reach the refrigerator. It's a phone company conspiracy to keep overweight women from the fridge. I know I could buy a longer cord, but all it would do is get tangled up. I want to get at those low-fat, bite-sized Peppermint Patties I've been craving all day. I keep a bag of them in the freezer to at least give me the feeling that I'm eating ice cream. "I've lost over thirty pounds, I walk every day, my heart feels fine, and I'm even getting some tone to my legs. Can't y'all take me as a guest just to see how I'll do?"
I had called Tonya earlier, and she had no problems. "Just don't wear any Spandex, girl," she had said. "Wouldn't want you bustin' loose and killing my step aerobics class." Naomi, though, as Christian as she is, just cannot be seen at her health club with the likes of me.
