by Earl Sewell
“No. I’m not,” answered Maggie. “Come on. Let me give you a tour of the place and show you where you’ll be sleeping.”
The basement of the home had a small cafeteria and a common area with one television, a pool table, a combination bookshelf and magazine rack and three large tables, which were used for studying and doing homework. The main floor was where the sleeping quarters were. Everyone got a thin mattress and one small dresser with two drawers, and that was it. The main floor was also where the showers and bathrooms were located. After Maggie showed me the shower facilities, I followed her to another area where there was a group of lockers.
“This one is yours,” she said as she handed me my combination lock. “Don’t give your combination to anyone. You can keep your personal hygiene products and any other valuables you may have in here.” I opened up the small, rusty locker and was immediately assaulted by an odor.
“Whew,” I said aloud as I closed the door.
“I’m sorry about that. I’ll have one of the janitors spray some disinfectant in there for you,” Maggie said as I followed her back to the sleeping area. “Here is your cot,” she said. “I’ll let you get settled in. I’m sure the other girls will be along shortly to meet you.”
“When are you going to make the phone call to that dude?” I asked. All I had was hope that my biological father was a decent man who wanted a troubled girl like me. I didn’t want to stay in here any longer than I had to. In my mind, anyplace was better than where I was.
“I’ll do it first thing in the morning,” Maggie said.
“Why can’t we do it now?” I asked. “I mean, can’t you just call him up and say, ‘Hey, did you ever have a sexual relationship with a woman named Justine from Chicago?’”
“It’s a little more complicated than that. You’re in the state system now and certain protocols have to be followed. It’s going to take a little time.”
“I don’t have much time. I want to leave here.” I was feeling crazy.
“I’ll do everything that I can,” Maggie said with a smile and then left.
I plopped down on my cot and placed my face in my hands. Everything seemed so unreal. I just couldn’t believe this was happening to me. A short time later, I felt someone nudge the back of my shoulder with their fingertips. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a massive girl towering over me. She had to be at least six foot two and was very heavyset.
“What do you want?” I asked her.
“To look through your bags,” she said.
“For what?” I asked placing a very mean expression on my face.
“To see if you have anything that I want.” I laughed.
“Honey, if you want to go through my rags to see if anything I have can fit you, then knock yourself out.” I stood up and was about to walk away.
“Drugs,” she whispered. “Do you have any?”
“No.” I glared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Drugs just weren’t my thing, especially after watching my mother struggle with addiction.
“They didn’t give you any drugs for the cut on your hand? No painkillers or anything?”
“I have to wear the bandage to keep my hand from becoming infected. I don’t have any painkillers for it,” I said and headed down to the common area. When I got down there, some of the girls were watching an episode of Jerry Springer. I went over to the small bookshelf in search of something to read. I felt like escaping from the reality I was in. I didn’t want to make friends at that point. I only wanted to be left alone.
The selection of books was very small, and some of the authors I’d never heard of. I picked up three books I thought would be interesting. There was Lord of the Flies, by William Golding, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, and The Women of Brewster Place by Gloria Naylor. I picked The Women of Brewster Place and went back to my cot. I couldn’t wait to mentally check out of the group home by getting lost in a book.
Chapter 9
I didn’t sleep well at all my first night in the group home. I just couldn’t sleep around a bunch of strange people I didn’t know or in the strange surroundings. I stayed up most of the night reading. On top of that many of the girls snored loudly. The street lamppost provided just enough light for me to read by. I finally drifted off to sleep at around four o’clock in the morning. At seven o’clock I was awakened abruptly by the sound of someone screaming. When I sat upright, several of the supervisors were trying to restrain the oversize girl who’d asked me if I had any drugs.
“She’s coming off of another bad hangover,” I overheard one girl whisper to another one.
When they finally got her under control, they searched her belongings and found that she’d somehow gotten hold of some alcohol.
“That heifer is crazy,” I heard yet another girl in the room say.
Once the supervisors found what she’d taken, they escorted her out of the dorm room. The other girls just sat and watched the whole thing go down without saying much more. It was strange watching all of this unfold. It was like being in a movie for the mentally ill. I felt as if I was watching things happen but not actually a part of it. In some ways the dorm room filled with cots felt like a ward at an insane asylum. Perhaps we were all just too emotionally empty to react to the madness that was going on around us. Perhaps we just couldn’t cry or talk about our pain anymore. Whatever our reasons, none of us moved an inch as the girl was being removed.
Later, after everyone had gone to school, I took a long shower, got dressed and hung out in the common area. I was waiting on Maggie to arrive with my transcript so I could get registered at a new high school as well as take me to the doctor to have my hand examined. I picked up an old issue of Vibe magazine that was lying around and started reading an article on Usher. God, if I had a boyfriend as fine and as rich as him, I’d be set, I thought to myself. I’d just finished reading the article when I heard Maggie calling out my name.
“Oh, there you are,” she said with a monotone voice. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” I said as I stood up and followed her. Maggie got me registered and I started school on the same day. At least she thought enough to get me abook bag and plenty of supplies, I thought to myself. I didn’t know what my future held but there was no sense in worrying about what I couldn’t control.
Several weeks went by, and I hadn’t seen or heard from Maggie. I thought she’d left me hanging just like everyone else. I didn’t make any waves, nor did I consider any of the girls to be my friend. At this point they were only acquaintances. I had a few conversations with some of the girls, and we even shared a few laughs but nothing real meaningful developed after that.
The adult supervisors had therapy sessions that they encouraged everyone to participate in. A group of us would form a circle and openly talk about our problems. Sometimes I participated and other times I didn’t. It was depressing to sit and hear details about the situations some of the other girls came out of. Some were drug users, some were homeless teens from different states and others were selling themselves on the streets in order to buy food or purchase a bus ticket to a new town. It was sad, and downright horrifying listening to stories of sleeping in abandoned warehouses with rats and begging for money on the street corner. One girl named Africa, who was the same age as I was, talked about how she’d stand on the street corner and sing for money to get food. Her parents came to the United States from Haiti, but they both died in a fire when she was twelve. She was placed in a foster home but was abused by her foster mother, so she ran away. While living on the streets she had to constantly fight off men who tried to attack her while she slept on a mattress with a sickly stray dog she was trying to take care of.
“I named my dog Port-Au-Prince, which is where my family is from. He protected me during those times. No matter how sick he was feeling, he wouldn’t let anyone get too close to me. He would always bark, even when it hurt to do so.”
“What happened to Port-Au-Prince?” I asked her. Before she could answer
, she started crying. “I was singing on a corner one morning trying to get enough money to buy him some food. He was lying down beside me, and when I’d finally gotten enough money I called to him, but he didn’t move. He died while I was singing.”
“What song were you singing?” asked another girl.
“An old song by Sam Cooke called ‘A Change Is Gonna Come.’ My mother loved that song.” Africa sang for the group, and by the time she was done I was in tears. One thing is for sure, I didn’t want any part of what I heard had happened to her to happen to me.
Early one Saturday morning, the group was scheduled to go for a fall outing to a local theater to watch a stage play. I had just boarded the group van but was pulled off of it by Maggie. I hadn’t seen her in weeks. I followed her back inside and upstairs to the office where we’d be able to speak privately.
“I really wanted to go see that stage play, Maggie,” I said to her.
“Well, we have to do something else instead. I have to get you over to a doctor for a blood sample.”
“Blood sample for what?” I asked.
“I got in contact with the man that your mother said might be your dad. At first he said that he didn’t recall who your mother was and that there was a mix-up,” she explained. “I didn’t hear from him for a few weeks and then, out of the clear blue sky, he called me back.”
“Well, what did he say?” I asked, holding my breath on her every word.
“Apparently he has a cousin named Simon.”
“The man that my mother got caught up with?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, great. If my biological father is related to Simon, you can forget it. I’ll just stay here at the group home.”
“Well, hang on before you say that. Simon and the man who may be your father are as different as night and day.”
“Go on, I’m listening,” I said.
“Simon got in contact with his cousin through another family member and reminded him about a particular house party they’d gone to years ago when they were both young men. An encounter occurred between Simon’s cousin and your mother.”
“But Justine doesn’t remember this, right?” I asked.
“I don’t know what your mom remembers. Anyway, I got a phone call back from Simon’s cousin and he has agreed to be tested just to make sure he doesn’t have any children out in the world he’s not aware of.” I swallowed hard. I felt my heart racing and I couldn’t calm myself down.
“So, we’re going to head over to the clinic for a blood sample and let science tell us if we’ve located your biological father.” I exhaled loudly. My feelings were somewhere between happy and terrified.
“I know this isn’t easy,” Maggie said.
“I’m afraid,” I admitted as I swallowed hard.
Several weeks after my blood sample was taken, Maggie resurfaced again. I was in the common area playing Monopoly with Africa and a few other girls when Maggie rushed in and called out my name, “Keysha.” I could hear the excitement in her voice. I captured her gaze.
“Come on, let’s go upstairs into the office.” I excused myself from the table and followed her. The upstairs office was as busy as it always is. The phones were ringing, the typewriters were dinging and there was a continuous hum of several conversations taking place at the same time. I took a seat in front of the desk where Maggie sat.
“The test results came back.”
“And?” I asked, fearing the worst.
“We’ve found him,” she said with a smile. I couldn’t believe it. I suppose I should have been happy but I was actually mortified by this new information.
“Well, aren’t you happy?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, who is he? What is he like? Does he even care about me?”
“His name is Jordan, and he’s doing very well. He’s married and has a son who is a few years younger than you.” She paused in thought for a moment. “He and his wife have agreed to come and meet you.”
“Come and meet me?” I began to feel a panic attack setting in. “How about coming to get me the hell up out of here?”
“Keysha, don’t get upset. I mean, your existence is very shocking and unnerving to him. This has changed everything for him. He never knew about you.”
“Well, he does now, and I don’t understand why he just doesn’t come down here and pick me up so that I can go!” I was emotional and shouting at Maggie. I didn’t mean to shout at her but my emotions weren’t in full control.
“Keysha, you have to understand the situation he’s in, too. He had to explain you to his wife and the rest of his family. I mean, give him credit, he was man enough to admit he’d had an encounter with your mother. He and his family have yet to make a decision on what to do.”
“Well, I’m part of his family. What about what I have to say?”
“Calm down, okay?” Maggie said, trying to get me to relax.
“Okay, I’m cool. When will they be here?”
“In a few days. His mother is coming into town, and he wants to wait until she arrives before he comes because she wants to meet you, as well.”
“Well, what’s his name?” I asked again.
“His name is Jordan,” Maggie said. For a moment I felt good about knowing his name, but then random thoughts began dancing around in my head.
“What if they don’t like me? What if they don’t want me? What if—”
“Slow down, Keysha. Be patient. There are a lot of things that are still unclear, okay?”
“I can’t be calm,” I said, feeling my nerves buzzing.
“Keysha, whatever the outcome of all this is we’re going to do what is best for you.” Maggie smiled at me warmly. I didn’t say anything else. I just tried to maintain my composure and hope that my father was the type of man who would understand me as well as get along with me.
Chapter 10
On the day I was scheduled to meet my biological father for the first time I was a nervous wreck. I wanted to look my best for him. I wanted to look perfect for him, but the clothes I owned made it impossible to look perfect. My hair was in horrible shape, my skin was full of pimples and I just felt completely inadequate. I was all set to just forego the meeting, but Maggie insisted that I at least meet him.
By 11:30 a.m. I was sitting in the office on one of the chairs awaiting their arrival. Finally, after waiting what seemed like an eternity, Jordan, his wife and his mother finally entered the room, and I was stunned into silence. They all looked so well and healthy. Jordan was impeccably dressed. Everything about him looked expensive, and I began to think that there had to be some type of mistake because there is no way that a man who looked like him would ever be involved with my mother or Simon. He was very handsome; he had smooth brown skin and eyebrows shaped exactly like my own. He didn’t have any facial hair, and although his eyes appeared to be closed, I could tell that he was watching me and his vision was as sharp as a hawk’s. Sometimes I hated my ability to read a person’s thoughts through their facial expressions. My father did not look very enthused about being there. I stopped reading his mind and focused on his clothes again. He had on a gray pin-striped business suit with a very nice yellow satin shirt and matching tie. He had a gold watch on that was bling-blinging all over the place and some very expensive-looking shoes. My other grandmother looked very regal. She was tall and full-figured and had on a beautiful dress that flowed well with her body. Her hair was styled nicely and had beautiful streaks of gray running through it. She looked as wise as she was beautiful. When I looked into her eyes I could see pain in them. As I studied the two of them, I saw another part of myself that I hadn’t known and for some reason I felt cheated. In my heart I knew we were connected, but in reality our relationship was estranged. Then there was Jordan’s wife, Barbara. She walked into the room with her nose wrinkled up as if she smelled a foul odor. Everything about her—from the way she was dressed to her demeanor—said uptight, confrontational and mean-spirited.
“Come he
re, baby.” My other grandmother summoned me to her once we made eye contact. I took a deep breath, stood up and walked over to her. She embraced me tightly and for a brief moment, the warmth of her hug felt beautiful and I got lost in the sweet scent of her perfume, but I didn’t hug her back. I didn’t know her like that.
“My name is Katie,” she said, smiling at me. “I’m your grandmother.” I looked into her eyes and somehow I felt as if she could see right through me. I wanted to say something but my words got trapped in my throat. These new feelings were foreign to me. I was looking into her eyes and felt like I knew her, but I didn’t. I looked over at Jordan, and my heart started beating so fast that I thought it was going to smash through my chest.
“Hello. My name is Jordan,” he said with a very commanding voice that made me nervous. Just hearing such a strong and unyielding voice made me swallow hard. We stared at each other for a long moment. Then without even thinking about it we both said, “You’re reading my thoughts through my facial expressions.” It was the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me. We had never known each other, but we knew each other in this bizarre way.
“It’s okay. We’re going to get you out of here,” said Grandmother Katie. I backed away from my father because I didn’t fully trust him. He was a total stranger, and yet he wasn’t.
“Hello,” I finally greeted him begrudgingly. I don’t know why I had an attitude toward him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, trying to sound concerned, but I didn’t truly think that he was.
“Does it look like I’m okay?” My tone of voice was filled with snake venom. Our eyes locked on each other again; he was trying to understand me just as much as I was him.
“Keysha, come here.” Grandmother Katie once again summoned me to her side. “I know how you must feel but things are going to change, I promise,” she said. I was so nervous at that moment I felt the urge to pee. I took a deep breath and began biting my fingernails.
