by HJ Bellus
“Baylor, you have to eat.” State pulls a bag of chips from his gym shorts.
I only shake my head side to side. I live in greater fear now than on the streets of Kings. At least there I knew the way of life and had State always by my side.
The days go by, endless and hopeless. State finds me whenever he can, grabbing my pinky and I finally learn to enjoy the moments we get together. It’s been months.
I wait on the couch, saving his spot with my leg so none of the other kids will screw with me. I’ve been labeled as a mean bitch and have never stopped the rumor that was started of me shooting my dad. They’re afraid of me and I like it that way. No one bothers me.
Our favorite episode of Scooby-Doo starts and ends with no sight of State, so I go and search for him. He rounds a corner shoving me into the ground. When the world quits spinning, I look up to State who has tears rolling down his face.
It’s only the second time I’ve seen him cry, so I know it’s bad.
“I’m sorry, Baylor.” He holds a hand up bringing me to him.
His right eye is swollen from a fight at school last week. The wound is a product of State standing up for me once again.
“Are you okay?” He hugs me tight to his body.
“What’s wrong?”
I feel his tears rain down on my shoulder, but he doesn’t respond. I fight to push him back, but he doesn’t move.
“What’s wrong?” I scream.
Still no response.
“I’ll knee you in the balls. Talk.”
“Are you ready, State?”
I look over his shoulder to see one of the social workers standing with a man and woman. The woman is nervous, wringing out her fingers, and the man holds her tight to his side.
“No. No. No.” My last no comes out as a scream.
“I told them no, but I have to go, Baylor.”
“You can’t, State.”
“It’s time, State.” The social worker taps his shoulder.
“Please don’t leave me.” I hug him tighter than ever before, feeling my world finally crumble.
“I don’t want to.”
“He doesn’t have a choice.” The social worker pries us apart.
State clutches onto my pinky. “I asked and begged them to take you, Baylor.”
“Please, God, please. No.” I sob, so terrified I don’t even recognize my own voice.
My knees slap the hard tile floor, still holding onto State’s pinky. The woman pries us apart and I can’t watch him go. I bury my face in my hands and completely fall to the floor, screaming loud and violent. I can hear State yelling my name, but it fades off into the distance until he’s gone forever.
“Call Miss Tami. It’s in her file, and she’s the only person besides State who can calm her down.”
Five
Years Later…
“Rowe, you have to get dressed.” I plant my hands on my hips and stare her cute little face down.
“I’m playing princess today.” She sticks out her tongue and goes back to dressing her stuffed hamster in her latest Princess Elsa dress.
I kneel down before her and cup her face in my hands. “School isn’t an option, buttercup. You have to go. I promise, after school and when I get off work, we will play hamster princess as long as you want.”
She sticks her bottom lip out and tries to pout. We’ve been working on transition periods with Rowe. She’s the perfect, prettiest barely seven-year old alive, with a bright soul and a tender heart. Rowe never lets her disability get in the way, so by damn, never tell this girl she has down syndrome.
“I’m going to pull my hair back and you better be ready for school, Missy.” I tap the tip of her nose.
“Oh, oh, oh.” She jumps up and down. “Let me.”
“Only if you pledge to be a little princess and go to school.”
“Promise.” She covers her heart.
I cringe. I hate that word. Have never used it since that day so long ago. I turn and let Rowe drag a brush through my thick brown hair and cringe each time I feel hair being plucked from my scalp. She sings and hums while brushing through it, and then mangles my hair into a ponytail. Well, I’ll be sporting this pony until I drop her off and will have to pull it up again in the car.
She rounds me in her pajama top and princess tutu and covers her mouth. “You so beautiful, Baylor.”
She sits in my lap and wraps her little legs around my waist, cupping my cheeks. “I hope I’m as pretty as you one day.”
Her voice is hopeful.
“Rowe, I have a secret.” I bend to her little ear.
“You’re already prettier than I’ll ever be, inside and out.”
“I love you, sister.”
“Love you, too, Rowe.”
She hops from my lap and skips into the bathroom down the hall. I pluck her hand held princess mirror from the floor and check her masterpiece. I have to stifle my laughter, Rowe doesn’t miss anything and I don’t want to hurt her feelings. It appears a very healthy rat has nested in the right side of my hair while the rest of the family has nestled in other places.
My hair is a bitch and not one to easily tame. It’s a dark brown, thick with a layer of curls on the bottom, and more than halfway down my back. It either has to be straightened, which takes hours, or I have to use lots and lots of products to make it look wavy, so ponytails are my go to.
“Rowe get hold of you?” Miss Tami sits in her recliner working on her daily crossword puzzle.
“What would make you think that?” I twirl in my pajama bottoms and tank.
“At least the make-up didn’t come out this time.”
I laugh hard, picturing Miss Tami and I all painted up by the hands of an over exuberant Rowe. That shit doesn’t wipe off.
“What are your plans today?” I kiss her forehead and pat her leg, taking a seat at her feet on the floor. She hates the old habit, but it’s one I’ve never been able to break.
“Have lunch at the senior center and then pinochle club until four.”
“Wild momma. Any men on that schedule?” I begin massaging her swollen ankles.
“Smart ass.”
“I don’t like you going to that senior center.” The word rolls off my tongue in disgust.
“My friends are there.”
“I don’t care. I hate that place.” My hands rub deeper into her skin.
“Kings is both of our homes. I know we don’t live there any longer, but my friends are there.”
“Yeah, we are a whole whopping six miles out of the hood.” She winces with a deeper roll of my hands. “One day I’ll get us further.”
“We are just fine here, Pissy Polly. Rowe has settled in quite nicely. I love our home and my girls.”
“I know you do. You’ve always been a sucker.”
“I love you, Baylor.”
“Love you, too, Miss Tami.”
“Where’s my chariot?”
We both turn to see Rowe with a matching rat nest ponytail centered smack dab on the top of her head, her hot pink tutu, red shimmery leggings, and favorite princess t-shirt on.
“Get me my backpack, bitches.”
Miss Tami kicks me. “I told you The Heat wasn’t a good movie for her.”
I can’t help the laughter. I know it encourages her, but, my hell, that’s the funniest shit I’ve heard and seen in a long time. I pop up from the floor and grab her hand.
“Rowe, you can’t say those words remember.”
She shrugs. “I know, but it felt so smooth.”
“You’re going to think smooth, little munchkin, now come give me some loves.” Miss Tami holds her arms out wide.
I stand back and watch her hug Rowe while whispering in her ear, telling her how smart and beautiful she is. It’s the same thing she used to do to me. And on really bad days she still does. She lets go of Rowe and then opens her arms to me. I bend over hugging the life out of her.
“Now make sure you talk to that cute principal,” she wink
s.
“Mr. Moore loves Baylor.” Rowe sings out.
“You two.” I wave them off and roll my eyes. “I don’t have time for men, nor do I want to make time.”
“You deserve it,” Miss Tami says.
I give her the don’t you dare bring up this topic stare and she only smiles back.
Rowe has her favorite jam on, rocking out in the car with her oversized aviators. She doesn’t miss one word to Party in the U.S.A. by Miley Cyrus. She holds my phone up to her mouth to belt out the chorus. My heart clenches in my chest because I hate dropping her off at school. Actually, it’s more than a hate.
Rowe Abott was one of Miss Tami’s last students she worked with. She raised me, and it was only thirteen months ago when I met Rowe and learned of her circumstances. My stomach becomes violently ill just thinking about what the poor baby has been through.
She was more than abused by neighborhood boys, and her parents were too disgraced by Rowe’s disability to give two thoughts about her being hurt. The sickest part of the whole situation was that they were high school boys and the football coaches even knew what was happening, but not one of the motherfuckers stood up for Rowe.
Rowe grew up in the better parts of the King’s project. She’d wait for her older brother to get out of practice every day, even though she was a young pre-kindergarten student. It only takes one evil soul to bring hell on everyone. The team captain decided it would be great fun to torture Evan, her older brother, he was just a freshman, so they took it out on Rowe.
Easiest target with her age and disability. Awful and horrendous things were done to the sweet girl, but it wasn’t until an object had to be removed from her rectum that something actually happened. It wasn’t the coaches, older students, or even her brother who finally spoke up. It was the school nurse who noticed poor Rowe in pain.
Miss Tami was on the verge of retiring, but knew she had one last person to save before she quit. She’d moved to that school years before, after she took me from Kings. She let me go to school in a better part of the city, but told me it was her mission to stay there and help children.
I shudder recalling the incident, but what really makes me sick is the slap on the wrist the boys received. No jail time, just an expulsion from school and a scaring from the police.
“You okay, sissy?” Rowe places her hand on mine.
I take a second to look down at her while at a red light.
“Only because you’re with me.”
And it’s the God damn truth. This girl has made me feel and come to life more than anything else. I’d do anything for her. She’s slowly teaching me to live again.
“When do you get off work?” She asks.
“Around six, Rowe. Miss Tami will pick you up at 4:10, okay?”
My vision focuses back on the road and wait for her response.
“Why don’t you call Miss Tami mom?”
That answer is easy. “Because she’s way more than a mom.”
“I thought so.”
We pull up to the school parking lot and Rowe waves out to everyone who will look.
“You’re going to walk me in, right?”
“Yes, baby.”
She asks the same question every morning and I respond the same way. She’s so full of life it’s hard for it not to be contagious. She bounces next to me with her Cinderella backpack on, giving everyone high fives as she walks by. This school loves Rowe, and she loves them. Well, that’s unless it interrupts her princess playtime.
“Princess Rowe.” Principal Moore kneels down and opens his arms wide, waiting for her leaping hug.
She lets go of my hand and rushes into his chest, hugging him tight. She’s never said it out loud, but I’m pretty sure she looks up to him like a Prince Charming.
“How’s the fairest princess in the land?”
He holds her back a bit taking in her outfit and hairstyle. Shit. I remember our matching do’s and try to run my palm over my own pony mess. He looks up at me and smiles wide.
“Looks like you did Ms. Baylor’s hair as well.”
“I did. She’s beautiful, huh?”
“Very.” He nods making eye contact.
What is wrong with me? The guy has hinted so much about asking me on a date, and I acted clueless. He’s gorgeous with sandy blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and his smile? Well, his smile reminds me that my lady bits are well and alive. Boyfriend territory has never been on my radar. Ever. In fact, even if he wanted to wine and dine me, I wouldn’t have any time between school, work, and my girls.
“She’s post to pinch your butt,” Rowe tries to whisper, but her whispers always come out as shouts. “Miss Tami said so.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to have to put that pretty lady in detention now.”
Rowe’s shoulders slump. “You’d never hurt her. Would you?”
He knows her background and has a double Master’s in counseling and administration. He always, always, handles her with grace, kindness, and respect.
“I’d never hurt a soul, but students who don’t follow the rules have to serve detention.”
“Right.” She perks up. “Pinching butts is bad.”
She shakes her head side-to-side with huge eyes. Her teacher joins us before Rowe schools us any further in butt pinching 101. She gives me a quick kiss before bouncing off to class. I wait, knowing what her next move will be. She stalls, making her teacher stop, and blows me a kiss. I pretend to catch it and blow her one back.
She’s much more excited about catching mine, doing a leap in the air and flailing her arms.
“Hard to have a bad day around that one, eh?”
I look over to Mr. Moore and admire his light blue-pinned striped buttoned up shirt before responding.
“She’s a blessing.”
“Good at hair too.” He points to the nest on my head.
“I could never hurt her feelings. I fix it on the way to school or work, and by the time my day is over it looks like this again.”
“Florida humidity.”
“Yeah, and a nervous tick, not a good combo.”
“Pharmaceutical, right?” He asks, rubbing his strong jawline.
I tilt my head in shock.
“I’m not a stalker. Rowe brags how you’ll be able to hand out pills.”
I slap my hand over my mouth. “That girl, but yes working on my Pharmacist degree. It’s years out, but I’ll get there before I’m sixty-six. Right now, I work at a diner and do massages on the side. I mean I’m a licensed masseuse not a…”
Baylor, foot in mouth. Foot in mouth, stat!
He lets out a deep chuckle like he’s reading my thoughts. A young boy runs up to him tugging on his sleeve.
“Juan is hurt. Hurt real bad.”
“Talk to you later, Baylor,” he nods to me quickly while paying attention to the distressed young student. But he turns to me before rushing off. “I’ll be in for a massage one day. Let you get in Miss Tami’s request.”
Oh God. I blush one hundred shades of red with embarrassment. Then, like an idiot, I send him an awkward wave before getting in my car.
I flip down the visor and look at the glorious rat’s nest on the top of my head and think how funny life is.
Six
After four massages this morning at the small space I rent in a salon, I’m off to my waitress job. Miss Tami insists I work way too much, but I’ve found I function better when completely busy. It’s my weird way of warding off my demons, I guess.
I have an hour to spare between jobs, so I go to my favorite coffee shop off the beaten path, to submit a research paper for one of my online classes. Coffee is definitely my drug of choice to keep the engine running at high speed. The smell of the shop hits me when I walk in. The smell alone is rejuvenating. I order my usual iced caramel coffee and settle into a corner booth.
It’s funny the way life works out. Most of my school years, I was placed in special education programs because I didn’t talk. Miss Tami fought for m
e, but I was the problem and never fought for myself. It wasn’t until my sophomore year of high school when they ran another IQ test and some random academic ones, that the school finally figured out I was more than capable.
I fooled them into thinking I couldn’t even read and that writing was a struggle. When in fact, after Miss Tami saved me, all I did was read. I’d read everything in sight and loved our library visits. I shake off the old memories and fire up my laptop.
It’s definitely on its last leg. The screen barely remains attached to the keyboard and I have to prop my backpack up behind it so it doesn’t flop back on the table. Miss Tami bought me a new MacBook for Christmas this last year, to replace my pathetic Windows machine, but another quirky fact about me is that when I grow attached to something I never abandon it.
Oh, my abandonment issues are another whole level of nut case. It would take the finest astronauts, scientist, and neurosurgeons to crack me. I let out a light giggle at the thought, and jot down some notes to write in a story that I’ve been working on. Because, let’s face it, fiction is way more entertaining than fact after fact of research papers that I’m currently buried under.
I send off the final research paper and tenderly shut the lid of my laptop, brush my bangs out of the way, and then make it out to my car. It’s only a five-minute drive to the sport’s bar I wait tables at. It’s ridiculous really. Alley’s Sports Bar is a good thirty-minute drive from my house, but it makes me feel more alive the further I am from the streets of Kings.
The bar is always hopping and full of sport’s enthusiasts. I’m busted with the dull roar of the crowd today when I walk in the back door. I busy myself changing in the back bathroom. I shimmy into my tight orange tank top with Alley’s logo on it, then leap into the tight black spandex shorts. We have to wear signature blue and orange Nike tennis shoes.
I re-adjust my out of control hair, smoothing it back into a ponytail. My reflection shines back at me in the mirror. I’m a plain gal who loves make-up and have only been fueled to use more, thanks to Rowe. It’s fun to put on make-up, making my brown eyes pop and highlight my cheekbones. It’s like my own fantasy of being a princess. Oh, that Rowe has been quite the influence on me.
