“May I help you?” a cold voice asked from behind the counter. Tiny quickly turned around and ran out. That didn’t turn out as she expected.
Tiny spent most of the morning slipping in and out of restaurants, pastry shops, and bakeries, snatching up crumbs and leftovers. In most cases she was chased away, but a few times she got lucky and was able to get a little something in her stomach.
Tiny spent the day wandering the streets. When she got tired, she found somewhere to sit and rest, then she was off again. She walked the malls, looked into store windows, and people watched. For the most part she was ignored. Just another homeless runaway in town.
As night fell, Tiny became worried. She needed somewhere to sleep. She couldn’t go back to that park. Wandering around aimlessly, Tiny walked out on Maxfield Avenue, and noticed up ahead a few police cars parked on the street in front of an old, brick building. It was the Half Way Tree Police Station. Curious, she hastened her steps and hurried over to the building.
Standing at the entrance of the walkway to the building, Tiny noticed a heap of junk vehicles piled up in an isolated, semidark area at the back. Most of these vehicles were involved in an accident or confiscated by the police. Looking around skeptically, Tiny sneaked around to the side of the building and made her way over to the abandoned vehicles. With her head hanging low she walked over to an old car at the furthest back. She grabbed the old metal handle of the right back door and pulled. Ta-da! It popped open.
Squeezing her small frame through the door, Tiny crawled over onto the backseat and pulled the door shut behind her. The car smelled stuffy, old, and moldy. She reached over and slightly rolled down the window at the front, welcoming the stiff, humid air that rushed in. With her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms under her head, Tiny curled up on the backseat of the car. Here she felt safer than she had been since she came to Kingston. After all, who would try to attack her at the police station?
The day after Tiny ran away, Aunt Madge sat at the top of the small steps with Baby Dupree nestled in her arms. Her worried gaze looked over the fields below and into the forest of trees visible in the distance. “Where are you, Tiny?” Tears leaked from her eyes.
As if sensing the sadness of the moment, Baby Dupree began to cry and kick her little legs. Aunt Madge stood up slowly and put the baby over her shoulder. As she rocked the baby, she sang one of her favorite hymns, “Amazing Grace.” “T’was grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved.” Pain washed over her body from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. She felt helpless but knew in her heart that the only thing she could do at that moment was to continue knocking on heaven’s door for the protection and safe return of her niece. It was all in God’s hands now.
Chapter Fifteen
It had been one month since Tiny arrived in Kingston. She was in very bad condition. Her hair was filthy and matted on top of her head. The once bright, colorful dress was now dirty brown and torn in a few places. When hunger hit she would dig up scraps from garbage bins and swiped crumbs and leftovers from restaurants, but that wasn’t enough to sustain her. She began to lose a considerable amount of weight from her already slim frame. Her hollow eyes protruded from her haunted face. She was starving and dehydrated. Life as Tiny knew it was quickly disappearing as she fell into the routine of being a homeless, depressed runaway.
For the last three days Tiny was unable to move out of the old car she had been sleeping in at the police station. Pain like she had never felt before rained upon her body like piercing bullets. Her stomach was on fire.
As Tiny lay in her own feces in the back of the old car, shivering, a cold sweat washed her body from head to toe. Her teeth rattled in her head as she muttered incoherently to herself. With her eyes tightly closed, Tiny surrendered herself to death.
Mama Pearl hummed a gospel song as she took small steps up the walkway of the police station toward the front entrance. Her big handbag was slung over one shoulder, while her two hands held firmly the large paper box containing the potato pudding she carried.
Mama Pearl was well-known at the police station where her oldest son, Gerald, worked as a cop. She was loved and respected by all the cops who were all referred to as “my son” or “my daughter.” She visited her son frequently, carrying dishes of her delicious cooking; oxtail curry goat and her special potato pudding. It was always more than enough for one person, and many of the other cops had gotten a taste at one time or another.
As she neared the door, Mama Pearl glanced over at the familiar heap of junk cars at the back of the station and stopped suddenly. She could have sworn she saw something moved.
“Hmmm, probably a stray cat looking for mice,” she muttered to herself. She took another step forward but stopped again. Her eyes went back to the old cars, her brows rose in confusion. “There is something back there that the Lord wants me to see,” Mama Pearl said to herself. “Papa Jesus, I’m not sure what it is, but I’m going to be obedient, sir.”
Mama Pearl tiptoed slowly toward the old cars, her steps hesitant but determined. The first few cars she looked into were empty. She continued toward the back when a bad odor filled her nose. With her face twisted up, Mama Pearl took deep breaths as she continued walking.
A scream lodged in her throat as she approached the last car. “Oh, dear Lord,” Mama Pearl whispered in shock. Two pieces of sticks, resembling legs, were hanging out the opened back door. Her heart slamming against her chest, Mama Pearl walked closer and saw the scrawny, young girl shaking uncontrollably in the backseat. She smelled like rotten garbage. Tears filled Mama Pearl’s eyes.
Mama Pearl quickly rested the box in her hand on top of the car and leaned inside to look at the young girl. Suddenly, two pair of red, haunted eyes stared up at her, piercing her soul.
“Help me,” the weak voice begged a little above a whisper.
Mama Pearl gasped loudly and pulled her head out of the car. She cushioned her weak body against the car as her jelly feet felt as if they were about to crumble. “Lord, dear Lord,” Mama Pearl muttered. “Dear Lord, dear Lord.”
Mama Pearl was not a stranger to the homeless people scattered all over Kingston. She was a long-standing viewer of the poverty that hit so many Jamaicans and only seemed to get worse, day by day.
Her heart bled as she turned and stared at the sick child again. She looked as if she was a minute away from death’s door.
Tiny rambled some gibberish and moaned in agony as sharp needles pricked her all over her ice-cold body. Her teeth chattered, and her eyes rolled around listlessly in her head.
As if she was coming out of a trance, Mama Pearl hobbled away from the car toward the entry door of the police station, screaming for help as loud as she could.
Two cops standing close by the door heard the screams over the chaos going on inside the station and ran outside with their guns drawn. They looked around frantically but only saw Mama Pearl hurrying toward them, waving her hands wildly as she yelled to them for help.
“She needs help!” Mama Pearl shouted. “Come help me get her to the hospital.”
“Get who, Mama Pearl?” one cop asked as he looked around puzzled. He saw the usual traffic of people on the street going back and forth, but nothing out of the norm.
“She’s in the car.” Mama Pearl glared at him. “She will die if she doesn’t get help right away.” She turned around and pointed to the heap of junk cars behind her.
The two cops rushed past her as they cautiously approached the cars, their guns still held tightly in their hands. They were greeted by a strong odor, then the scrawny legs sticking out of the backseat of the old car.
“Lord have mercy,” one whispered when his eyes focused on the girl whimpering like a wounded cat. “Run and get the key for the car,” he said to his colleague who had his hand over his nose. The police officer ran off to do as he was asked. “And grab a blanket from the bunk room,” he shouted at his back.
“We have to move fast,” Mama
Pearl said as she walked up to stand beside the police officer. “She needs medical attention as soon as possible.”
The officer holstered his gun and walked closer to the car. “Sweetheart, we are going to help you,” he said to Tiny as he breathed through his mouth. “Stay with me, my dear.” He glanced impatiently over his shoulder and saw the other officer running back with a big blanket in his hand.
“Here you go.” The police officer handed over the blanket. “I’m going to start the car.” He sprinted off and headed to a police car parked in front on the street.
The police officer reached into the car and threw the blanket over Tiny, from her neck down. Carefully he rolled her over into the blanket and lifted the body of bones into his arms. Trying not to gag at the foul odor that filled the small, cramped space, he slowly pulled out from the car with Tiny securely wrapped in his arms.
Walking quickly with Mama Pearl hurrying beside him, he carried Tiny to the running car with his partner sitting in the driver’s seat. The back door was opened. He carefully slid into the backseat with Tiny still nestled in his arms, while Mama Pearl grabbed the front passenger door open and hopped in.
“Drive,” Mama Pearl instructed in her no-nonsense voice after she closed the door.
“Yes, ma’am.” The officer hit the siren and pulled off at a high speed toward University Hospital of the West Indies. In record time the tires were squealing to stop in front of the emergency room. He put the car in park, flung his door open, and hurried to the back of the car to open the door for his colleague.
Mama Pearl quickly opened her door and got out. Waving her hand wildly in the air, she shouted for help. Seconds later a nurse and a doctor pushing a stretcher rushed toward them. The officer carefully got out of the car with Tiny held tightly in his arms and carried her over to the stretcher. He lowered her onto it and stepped back so the medical staff could take over. Unshed tears filled his eyes.
Tiny was rushed inside with Mama Pearl right on their heels.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you can’t go in there,” a nurse passing by said behind Mama Pearl when she tried to slip into the room that Tiny and the medical personnel had disappeared into. “That room is off limits.”
Mama Pearl rolled her eyes and turned around to face her. “I need to know if she is going to be okay,” Mama Pearl said, her voice laced with concern.
“Is that your daughter? Don’t worry, she’s in good hands,” the nurse said in a friendly voice. Mama Pearl didn’t correct her mistake. “While you’re waiting why don’t you come and fill out the necessary paperwork?”
Mama Pearl stared at her with panic in her eyes. “Paperwork?” she asked.
“Yes. We need your daughter’s name, medical history, your information for the billing, and so on.”
“Hmmm, I . . . I . . . I can’t deal with that right now,” Mama Pearl stuttered. “I’ll take care of it later.”
“But—”
“I said later,” Mama Pearl said sharply. “I’m not going anywhere until that child is okay, so I’ll be right here.”
“Okay, ma’am,” the nurse said respectfully. “Come and have a seat in the waiting room. Someone will be out soon to give you an update on your daughter.”
Mama Pearl nodded her head. She wearily dragged her feet into the waiting room and sat in a plastic chair close by the door. With her eyes tightly closed, she rested her head against the wall and began to pray for the young, sick girl. She knew Tiny needed all the prayers she could get.
Chapter Sixteen
“Hello? Ma’am?” Mama Pearl’s eyes popped open to see a doctor wearing a white coat leaning over her. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I wanted to give you an update on the young lady you came here with.”
“Yes, sir.” Mama Pearl jumped to her feet. “How is she? Is she going to be all right? Can I see her?”
“Slow down, one question at a time,” the doctor said with a smile. “I’m Dr. Warren, and I’m sorry that took longer than anticipated.” The doctor looked Mama Pearl from head to toe, noticing the neat hair pulled back in a thick, grey bun and a clean, pressed, red flowing dress with matching soft, leather shoes.
“She isn’t related to you, is she?” Dr. Warren asked Mama Pearl.
“No, I don’t know her,” Mama Pearl admitted with a sigh. “I found her in an abandoned car at the police station.”
“That’s what I thought.” The doctor nodded his head. “I could tell that she was homeless.”
“So what’s the matter with her?” Mama Pearl asked. “Is she going to be all right?”
“Ma’am, you are not related to her, so I’m not supposed to disclose that information to you.”
“What? I found her. I’m responsible for her now,” Mama Pearl said forcibly. “The Lord led me to her for a reason, and I’m not going to turn my back on her. I’m all she has right now.”
Dr. Warren folded his arms across his chest and looked at Mama Pearl with apprehension. “Well, she is homeless, or at least it seems like that’s the case,” he began. “I guess you are her temporary guardian, huh?”
“Yes, yes, I am,” Mama Pearl said quickly, nodding her head. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
“We are optimistic,” Dr. Warren replied as he stared into Mama Pearl’s worried eyes. “She is suffering from diverticulitis.”
“Thy what?” Mama Pearl asked puzzled.
Dr. Warren smiled and explained. “Diverticulitis. This happens when the diverticula or pouches formed in the wall of the colon get inflamed or infected. The feces get trapped in the pouches, and this allows bacteria to grow there. This can lead to inflammation or infection.”
“Oh, I see,” Mama Pearl said a little skeptical. “So is this ‘divert’ thing serious? Can it kill her?”
“Diverticulitis can perforate and can cause death,” Dr. Warren answered. “Some of the symptoms include belly pain, usually in the lower left side, that is sometimes worse when you move. There is fever and chills, bloating and gas, diarrhea, nausea, and sometimes vomiting. Also, not feeling like eating is common,” he patiently informed Mama Pearl.
“Lord have mercy.” Mama Pearl covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s some very serious stuff, Doc. What are you doing to help her?” Mama Pearl’s face was etched in worry.
“Well, we did some x-ray and blood tests. We are still waiting on the results of the blood tests that we should get back later tonight or in the morning, but the x-ray shows that she has an abscess that is infected. I’m afraid we’ll have to do surgery.” Dr. Warren’s eyes filled with sympathy.
“Thank God I found her.” Mama Pearl shook her head in amazement. “If that abscess had burst inside her . . .”
“Yes, I’m glad you found her in time,” Dr. Warren agreed. “She could have stayed there and died. Do you have any more questions for me?” Mama Pearl shook her head. “Okay, I need to go so we can get the surgery done.”
“Thank you, Doc,” Mama Pearl said with a grateful smile. “Please, don’t let anything happen to her.”
“We’ll do our best,” he replied before hurriedly walking away, leaving a cloud of uncertainly behind.
Mama Pearl wearily lowered herself back into the chair. She felt a headache coming on, but she ignored it. Her heart was consumed with the young girl who was suffering behind those closed doors. “She’s in your hands now, Lord,” Mama Pearl said as she glanced up at the ceiling. “I ask that you stay in the operation room with her and give her the victory.”
“Mama, are you okay?” came Gerald’s worried voice beside Mama Pearl before she was pulled into a big, tight hug.
Mama Pearl nodded her head and clung to her son. God, it felt good to have someone there with her.
“I just got back to the station after leaving a crime scene and the officers told me what had happened,” Gerald said as he gently rocked his mother in his arms. “How could something so terrible happen to that girl? Is she going to be okay?”
Mama Pearl gently pulled b
ack and looked into the concerned eyes of her oldest child. “They are going to do surgery. Her colon has an infected abscess that could rapture and kill her.”
“How awful,” Gerald said with deep emotion. “Don’t worry, Mama. This is a good hospital. She’s going to be okay.”
“I hope so,” Mama Pearl said sadly.
“Mama, you look tired.” Gerald touched her cheek affectionately. “Let me take you home to get some rest.”
“No,” Mama Pearl said adamantly. “I’m not going anywhere until I know that child is okay.”
“I’m off duty, so I can come back and check on her,” Gerald persisted. “Remember your doctor said you have to take it easy, Mama.” His voice was filled with concern for his sixty-year-old mother who suffered from high blood pressure.
“I feel fine,” Mama Pearl replied stubbornly. “I want to wait awhile, okay?”
Gerald gave a big sigh and nodded in defeat. “A little while, and then I’m taking you home, even if I have to throw you over my shoulder,” he said playfully, pointing his index finger at his mother. “Or do you want me to call Sydney, Alwayne, Robert, and Omar?” he added with a smirk, referring to his other four brothers.
Mama Pearl rolled her eyes, a little smile flickering at the corners of her mouth. What would she have done without her boys?
Chapter Seventeen
Mama Pearl was a widow and mother of five sons. Gerald, the oldest, was a cop; Sydney, the second son, was a high school principal; Alwayne, the middle son, was a lawyer; followed by Robert, who was a college professor; and Omar, the youngest, was a bank teller.
After the sudden passing of her husband when the boys were very young, life for Mama Pearl was hard. Raising five boys without a father would have forced many women to give up, but not Mama Pearl. She cleaned houses for the rich folks who lived in the affluent areas of Kingston, from sunrise to sunset, and took good care of her boys. They all went and graduated from college, an opportunity she never got.
God Has Spoken Page 8
