The Last Name Banks

by Lacy Camey

  “We bring the freshest comida. Kids deserve it,” one of the ladies said in another thick accent. I wondered how early they had to awake to bring fresh food.

  “This is Ana, Lucia and Cordilla,” Josephina introduced. We all smiled at each other. She gave orders in Spanish to them and they each began unpacking and unloading.

  “Hi, I’m—” Maycee began when Logan reappeared, chipper as ever to the ladies. “Josephina! I wanted to give a proper introduction to these two ladies who will be helping you for the next three weeks with meals. Maycee and her younger sister, Norah.”

  Maycee and Norah looked at each other proudly.

  “Oh, yes, I met them last night. Remember silly goose you?” she said.

  He turned to Norah and Maycee. “Hi, I don’t think we have had the privilege of meeting yet. I’m Logan. I am the director, facilitator—whatever you wanna call it—of this orphanage. If you need anything, I’m the guy. You two get your packets detailing your duties just fine?”

  “Yes, we did. Thank you,” Maycee said as Norah nodded.

  “Well, good. Real kind of you to join us and provide us with your time.”

  He lowered his hat and exited the kitchen.

  They both looked at me as if to say, “I thought you said he was McGrump?”

  My blood began to boil. Why was he being so mean to me and so angelically kind to them?

  Josephina started speaking to Maycee and Norah about washing and cutting fruit for the breakfast fruit bowls when I interrupted her.

  “Did you just see that? I guess McGrump is Mr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I can’t believe he treated y’all like—”

  And then I stopped. I had the attention of the whole room. Four precious ladies with warm faces who clearly adored Logan and thought he hung the moon and the stars stood facing me with a look of utter disdain. I guess they do understand English. Maycee and Norah looked at me like I was crazy. I would have to stop right there and not say another word. I was a lady. I knew when to hold my tongue and right now was a good time to hold it.

  I learned a thing or two from my Debutante years. Whenever I would be at a lunch or an interview, I knew within an instant if I was off with my dialogue or needed to save a conversation. If a conversation was going airborne, I knew how to hijack that flight back to smooth sailing of pleasantries.

  I smiled and giggled my polite southern laugh. “I mean, I absolutely just love plays. I was just telling Maycee this morning—who actually writes books—how we should conduct a play with the children. But maybe not Mr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Probably not age appropriate, but just needed a second opinion. So, I’m thinking from the looks of it, not a good choice for plays. Suggestions anyone?”

  Josephina’s eyes lit up. She released her flour bag and powder fluffed into her face. “Oh, that is a lovely idea!”

  “Yes, the children adore plays! They would love that!” Ana said with equal giddiness.

  Josephina’s helpmates could not look more elated at the present moment. I smiled as fake and calm as possible as I slowly shifted my eyes to Maycee’s utter disdain. I smiled back at her, hoping she would play up to the new plans.

  The ladies looked at Maycee, waiting for her to elaborate. It was a very long five seconds.

  “Well, I wanted it to be a surprise of course,” she fumbled and shifted her weight.

  “What play do you do, miss?” Lucia asked in a sweet voice.

  “Well . . . it will be an original, most definitely.”

  “Oh, I cannot wait to tell Brother Logan just this minute. He will love it. Just love it,” Josephina said as she brushed the flour off her face as best as she could and wiped her hands on her apron. “Brother Logan! Brother Logan, you won’t believe what Maycee is doing for the children. The children will do a play. The children will do a play!”

  I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I tried to act cool. Surely Maycee would get over the small bump in the road and be inspired to write a play.

  The three other helpers went back to cracking eggs and Maycee quickly made her way over to me, asking to have a word with me in the courtyard.

  She whispered hastily, “What the heck did you just do?”

  “I did nothing,” I smiled.

  “A play? Just when am I supposed to write a play? I am supposed to be working on my YouTube channel and online presence for my book. Now when am I going to do that? You always know how to get things to go your way. Maybe you can do a guest post on the art of getting your way in any situation.”

  She headed back into the kitchen but was stopped by Logan.

  “Did I hear that you write, Maycee? You write plays?” he asked in interest.

  “Well, I,—uh.” A few eager kids looked at her with warm, excited eyes. They were extremely precious and I saw them warm her heart.

  “I do.” She nodded. “I do.” She smiled more.

  “Well, that is just excellent. The kids have always read plays but I do not think since I have been here they have ever conducted one. It will be something they will never forget. Well, see you all at chapel.”

  I smiled back at Maycee. “See, you just got brownie points with Mr. McJide Hide.” I lowered my voice so the children couldn’t hear.

  “What is Mr. McJide Hide?” a cute girl asked, her front tooth missing. She had an adorable little lisp.

  Maycee bent down and looked at her in the eyes. “Mr. McJide Hide is a very yummy special treat you will get to eat that my friend here, Chloe, is going to help me make for all of you for many, many hours each day in the kitchen,” she patted my shoulder.

  The little girl’s eyes sparkled and she jumped up and down in excitement.

  “Yay! I’ve never had a Mr. McJide Hide yummy special treat before! Mr. McJide Hide! Mr. McJide Hide!” She jumped up and down and skipped to her friends who started repeating her. It was like a chorus. I was impressed and surprised at her English speaking skills.

  We watched the kids and saw their happiness and smiled at each other. I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Maycee, I’ll be glad to help you with Mr. McJide Hide special yummy treats. I’m sure I can show you a thing or two in the kitchen. I am from the south after all.” I patted her shoulder in return.

  Norah came out of the kitchen and said, “Come on you two, they need Maycee. We have aprons and the doctors are looking for you, Chloe.”

  We walked out of the courtyard and waved bye to the children as Maycee said back to me, “Like you ever cooked a day in your life in your plantation down in Texas.”

  I was used to this jargon and these taunts. It didn’t bother me. Especially not from other women. “Oh, yes. I’ve cooked a thing or two. Don’t you know I’ve practically been to culinary school? All the women in my league had to ace the course just to join.”

  Maycee rolled her eyes and smiled.

  “Hey, look at your new adventure. You can blog about it,” I said.

  “Yes. That’s true.” She nodded her head in thought. I could see her imaginary wheels spinning. “Thanks, I guess . . . I guess it is a really good idea now that you mention it.”

  “Yep. It will show you have real substance,” I joked. Sort of.

  “You know, you’re right! My ideas are already jumping out of my brain. This will be perfect for blogging and maybe working on a book simultaneously about, hey . . . kids in an orphanage doing a play. I can’t wait for that chapel service of his where I can outline something.”

  And that settled the case. I was off the hook.

  Chapter Four

  Minutes later, I found myself in the doctor’s headquarters. Steve needed to go to the men’s room and Vinny came to replace him. The gray building reminded me of school trailer rentals that a few schools had in the rural Austin area. I opened the door to find medical gear, cots, and surgical devices here and there. A giant white curtain that hung on a moving metal rack separated the makeshift office to what appeared to be the operating/attending room.

  I was already feeling the surge of adrenaline to
organize a few things. It was obvious a woman’s touch was needed; a woman trained in medicine. No one was in the room so I helped myself to examining the supplies. Dr. Kingston appeared out of the curtain and into the office.

  “You make it a habit to snoop?” he asked.

  I stood up straighter and put my hands by my side. Dr. Kingston took a good look at Vinny and then relented. “I’m just kidding with ya.” He started unpacking supplies wrapped in bubble wrap. “These are all the supplies we just received yesterday. We are just going through them.”

  The clock hanging on the wall struck eight as the outside tower bell rang. I heard excited children running outside from the courtyard.

  Before I could peek out the window, Dr. Kingston said, “Your dad smoked the competitors last night in the debate. He is extremely competent. Especially when they attacked him and tried to get him to comment about his alleged flings he’s had with other women, he—” He quickly stopped. I guess he remembered that he was actually talking to, oh, you know, his daughter. He wasn’t just a political figure anymore. He was my dad.

  My eyes went wide.

  “I mean, the alleged flings he’s had with—” he stopped again, searching for words. He looked at Vinny, who merely stood like a statue.

  You may be a doctor and book smart, but clearly you’re lacking in social smarts. I glanced at his left hand. No ring.

  “How old are you, Dr. Kingston?”

  “Peter. I’m thirty-five. Call me Peter from now on.”

  “Kids? Wife? Family?”

  “No, no . . . . ” he shook his head slowly.

  “Ever been married?”

  “No, I’ve been . . . very dedicated to my practice. Traveling and such.”

  I nodded my head. I wasn’t going to probe any further. Discussing one’s intimate personal life is never fun, especially when regret or shame is involved. I think he got the message with the sudden looking down at the bubble wrap and clearing his throat.

  “The weather today should—” he began.

  Dr. Richards entered the room carrying a plastic tub of what I assumed was more medical supplies. I wasn’t going to let him faze me. Nothing he could say was going to get me down. Nothing.

  “These were just shipped fresh from Doctor Hawner and his team. This will be a huge help,” he said.

  “Oh that’s great!” I said in excitement.

  He just stared at me. “I was talking to Doctor Kingston,” he said, drawing out the word doctor. Great, he was the arrogant type.

  I looked at Vinny to see if any of this harassing phased him. But no, still nothing.

  Dr. Richards started to separate the many different supplies of what appeared to be vaccines and other injectables.

  “May I help with anything?” I asked, as confident and firm as possible.

  “Oh, no thanks. We’re good. Just ole’ doctor stuff. Don’t worry your little pretty nurse’s head,” he said to me.

  Don’t worry your little pretty nurse’s head? That was it.

  “Right, in that case, I’ll go in the kitchen and bake some cookies and help the other pretty ladies,” I said in a fake valley girl accent.

  Doctor Richards shook his head, smiling. “Why, that is the best idea I’ve heard all day. I’d like a glass of milk while you’re at it.” He laughed to himself as Peter stood shocked, as if he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or appear sorry.

  “I think you—” Peter began.

  “I’m here to be a helping hand,“ I persisted.

  “Sorry. We just assumed you were not really going to volunteer with us, you know. Maybe just stand around for appearance sake,” Peter said quietly with a tad bit of shame.

  “Stand around for appearance sake?”

  “Come on. The Governor who is running for President, a tight race, sends his only daughter to Venezuela to reflect good on his family. Whose family is always in the press. He needs good press. Politicians will do anything to win these days,” Dr. Richards said as he shook his head.

  “Is that what this is all about? Political parties? You know what they say about people who assume,” I said.

  “Yeah, it makes you an—”

  Peter stopped Dr. Richard’s words by slapping his arm. “Let her help. We need the help.”

  Dr. Richards sighed and lowered his glasses down to the edge of his nose a bit. Judging from the wrinkles around his eyes and the thinning gray hair, he appeared to be in his early forties.

  “We need all the beds stripped of their sheets and laundered. You do know how to do laundry, right?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course I do.” Even though, sadly, this is something I’m not proud of, but I’d never touched laundry a day in my life. Only the removal of the clothes to be laundered and the putting on of the freshly laundered. But I never had laundered myself.

  “Right. Of course. I can do that.”

  “Then walk past that curtain there and you’ll see a row of cots,” he directed.

  “Right,” I said, determined as I made my way towards the cots. There were only six.

  “You only have six cots here? What happens when they’re all full?”

  “Maybe your father can donate some,” Dr. Richards said coldly.

  “Give her a break,” Peter said.

  “Oh, you’re just a soft Republican,” Dr. Richards said back to him.

  “Actually, I’m not a Republican.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re a Tea Party member.”

  “I actually prefer to not disclose my party of choice.”

  “I can tell. You are a Tea Party member.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  I walked around looking for a basket or something to de-bed the cots but couldn’t find a single item. The doctors went over their lists and checked off their supplies, completely oblivious to my presence, as I rolled my eyes once more and grew more determined to prove my toughness, my reason for being there, and that I didn’t let men who assumed phase me.

  I wondered how Norah and Maycee were doing. Then I realized I had three more months, minus one day, left here in the orphanage. So what the men couldn’t see past my last name? I was determined to prove them wrong. I’d show up early, I would stay late. I would work out a way to have cots expedited immediately. Just wait and see. I would show them a proper hospital. Heck, just wait and see.

  “Well, no laundry basket here. I’m off to find a laundry basket, a container; something for the linens.”

  The men just nodded, neither looking up from their list.

  So off I went to look for a laundry basket, with Vinny right behind me like a cat obsessed with its owner.

  I walked back into the kitchen and heard Norah and Maycee laughing about the cracked egg all over Maycee’s white outfit. Even with an apron on, it still managed to hit the white shirt.

  “See, your white outfit was practically asking for it,” Norah said.

  “Ugh. Not funny!” Maycee attempted to wipe off the yolk.

  “Hey you two.”

  “Watcha doing in here, Chlo? Are you not sticking to your schedule?” Norah teased.

  “I’ve been commissioned to do womanly duties, you know, strip sheets and launder. All the while, I’m ridiculed about my father and his women philandering ways.”

  “Eek,” Maycee said.

  “How awful,” Norah commented.

  “Tell me about it. It’s really annoying hearing lies over and over. People have no idea what they’re talking about. They just see a picture and assume they know everything. The only cheating my dad would be guilty of is spending too much time serving his country. If it’s anyone who would cheat it’s my mother. Who knows what she does all day long? Anyway,” I shook my head. “Excuse me, Miss Josephina, can you direct me to the laundry department?”

  “Laundry department?” she asked, confused.

  “Oh . . . uh, washing room for the clothes?”

  “Oh, yes. Yes. This way, dear. You follow me. And don’t you let those doctor men run over you
.” I smiled at her. For some reason, that very instant she reminded me of Nia and I realized how much I missed her. Maybe it was her natural soothing nature.

  As we walked down the hallway, I admired the beautiful stone floor and brick walls. People in the states paid fortunes to immolate Southern American design. This orphanage could be in a design magazine.