Keesha's House (6 page)

Sometimes it seems like it don't matter

if you lie or tell the truth.

People pick out what they want to believe—

all you can do is hope they pick

the things that count. Tomorrow, I finally got my court

date. So much dependin' on which judge

I get and what he's feelin' like when I come in. One judge

knows Grandmama, and that ain't s'posed to matter,

but I can tell you, I'll be glad if he has court

tomorrow. Grandmama's been comin' to see me. She says,
Truth

is easy. You don't got so much to remember.
She picked

out a nice dress for me to wear:
Believe

me, Carmen, it's important how you look.
I do believe

that, but there's a lot about my looks that I can't change. Judge

me by my character, like Dr. King said. Well, I can't pick

my judge, and I can't change the facts, or for that matter

what they think is facts. Truth

is, I'm part guilty, part innocent, and the court

decides how to put that together. Last time I had court

I said I wasn't drinkin'—only with some kids that was. They believed

me, and I just got probation. Now this time, truth

is I did have one beer. I can hear that judge

already, all stern, sayin',
Young lady, this matter

before us is serious.
I know I gotta start pickin'

better friends. Anytime someone say,
We'll pick

you up for a party
, I just go along. It shouldn't take the court

to make me use more sense. What's the matter

with me, anyhow, that I don't make my own mind up? I believe

most of the things the judge

says, but sometimes I wonder, what
is
the whole truth?

I know I'm the only one that can tell myself the truth

and make me listen. If I go home, will I just pick

up where I left off, or can I change? That's for the judge

to decide, I guess. I'm hopin' I can go home after court

tomorrow and stay out of trouble. Grandmama believes

me, that I want to try. She says,
Girl, no matter

what you do, I keep on believin' in you.
She should be a judge

herself, the way she picks through lies and truth

and court talk, and comes up with that one thing that matters.

DO NOT LEAVE CHILDREN UNATTENDED     
HARRIS

After school and on weekends I go to the library

and do my homework or listen

to music. I brush my teeth, wash my hair,

and, a couple times a week, I shave. They have

a private sink in one of the handicap stalls.

Sometimes I go in the youth section and sign

up to play computer games. There's a sign

in there:
DO NOT LEAVE CHILDREN UNATTENDED IN THE LIBRARY
.

I know there's younger kids than me who use the sink in that stall

like I do. I keep my eye on them. I try to listen

to adults that talk to them, especially in the rest room. Last week, I had

something creepy happen when I was combing my hair.

A guy made a comment about my
gorgeous red hair
,

which is nothing new. But right after that—the first sign

of something weird—he asked if he could have

a picture of me. I got out of there fast. When the library

was about to close, he left the same time I did.
Hey, listen
,

he said,
you need a ride somewhere?
I said,
No, thanks
, stalled

for time until he left. The next day, I came out of the stall

and he was in the rest room combing his hair.

He said something to me, but I didn't stay to listen.

Now I watch every move he makes. If I ever see a sign

that he's messing with one of the kids that hang out in the library,

I'll—well, I don't know what I'll do, but I know I'd have

to help. I guess I'd act casual, like I had

some reason to be there—but I'd stall

around and eavesdrop till he left the kid alone. The library

should be a safe place, and if a kid needs a place to comb his hair,

just let him be. Hey! I finally got a job. I'm going in to sign

the paperwork this afternoon. I have to listen

to a tape about dishwashing safety. That's funny! I've listened

to my mother harp on that stuff all my life. Like—you have

to scrub the cutting board. Use bleach or boiling water. There's a sign

in the rest room—in fact, there's one in every stall—

reminding us employees to wash our hands. We have to use hair

nets if we get anywhere near food. The librarians

won't be seeing so much of me now. That's a good sign. I'll have

a bathroom I can use at work, and I'll just use the library stall

to wash my hair. I'll listen to music while it dries.

WE CAN BOTH SEE     
KATIE

1.

Once in a while, something good happens, and things fall

into place. I was getting to the point

where I thought I'd have to quit

school. I couldn't afford a car,

and I didn't have the time for that long bus ride.

Then this new guy, Harris, shows up at work.

I know him a little from school. Freshman year, we worked

together on a lab report, and once last fall

I sat with him on the bus ride

coming home from a field trip to Oak Point.

Now, it turns out, he has a car,

and I can get from school to work with him. I don't have to quit

school or my job. It's like someone's saying,
Katie, don't quit

now; you've come this far and you've worked

hard to get here.
Every afternoon, I lean back in that car

and close my eyes. Sometimes I actually fall

asleep. Of course, I make it a point

to pay for gas. I've never expected a free ride.

 

 

 

2. (two weeks later)

Whenever we get off work together, Harris gives me a ride

home. But I can't find out where he lives. He won't say, so I quit

asking. Maybe that's a sore point

with him, like it sort of is with me. Sometimes after work

I invite him in, and Keesha jokes around that I'm falling

in love. It isn't that, but I keep thinking about his car,

full of clothes and blankets. I bet anything he lives in that car.

I bet when it gets cold he rides

around until the car warms up, and then he falls

asleep till he gets cold again. Keesha says I should quit

worrying about other people.
You have to work

hard enough to take care of yourself!
Good point,

but I could make the same point

back to her. She says if it turns out his car

is all he's got, and if he has enough hours at work

to pay for food, next time he gives me a ride

I could let him know that if he ever wants to quit

all that, there's room here. I remember last fall,

I met Keesha at a low point in my life. I almost quit

both school and work. Through all that's happened, she never let me fall.

Now we can both see: Harris has a car, but he needs a ride.

PART VI

KEESHA'S HOUSE

KEESHA'S HOUSE     
JOE

It used to be when kids showed up they'd say,

I'm lookin' for Joe's house. Somebody sent me here

and said to ask you for a place to stay

tonight.
They'd stay a week, a month, a year …

It's still like that, 'cept now they look at me

like,
Where'd you come from? Ain't this Keesha's house?

I go get Keesha, and I watch while she

checks out the situation, thinks what couch

or bed we got. Time and again, she makes

the right decision. She helps so many kids.

The way she holds her head up, my heart breaks—

ain't nobody thinkin' 'bout what Keesha needs.

I love this girl whatever way I can,

too young to be her father, too old to be her man.

SAME OLD STORY     
CHARLES (DONTAY'S FATHER)

A month now, Dontay's missing. Letter came

today—his foster father still ain't said

just why the boy run off. Sound like the same

old story: they get paid, he don't get fed.

Ain't nobody seen my boy. I know Lucille

be sick with worry too—our youngest son

in danger, us in here just prayin' he'll

be found before he mess up bad. Just one

mistake. He'll think he won't get caught. Might

be right, a time or two. But he won't stop.

Stakes get higher; can't get out; some night

somebody got no use for him. I got

two years behind me, about one more to go.

There's too much I can't see. Too much I know.

HE'S GOT A PLACE     
ANTHONY (DONTAY'S FOSTER FATHER)

Sounds like Charles and Lucille are blaming us

for Dontay being gone so long. We've

tried to keep them up to date, and trust

they'll call us if he contacts them. We leave

the front porch light on every night in case

he comes back here. Lenora keeps his bed

made up, and we agree he's got a place

with us if he comes back. We must have said

something that set Dontay off—it's hard to know.

The rules that make our own kids feel secure

don't work that way for him. He has to show

how much he doesn't need us, but I'm not so sure.

There's so many things he should be told

but he can't hear them. Fourteen years old.

WHO'D BE HURT?     
JUDGE DAVISON

The juvenile system is set up

to protect kids and the community at large.

I don't see it as either “pass a cup

of kindness” or “put the monsters behind bars.”

Take Carmen: I read her case and try to judge

what she did, what she intended, what she knew.

She's not perfect. There's a little smudge

or two in here I can't ignore. But who

would I be helping by coming down too hard?

Who'd be hurt by letting her go home?

I weigh the facts, decide what I regard

as truth, and think what I'd want for my own

child. I believe Carmen will be okay.

I'll talk straight, then send her on her way.

SHE'S DOING OKAY     
WILLIAM (KEESHA'S FATHER)

Tobias knows the place where Keesha stays,

that house on Jackson Street with a blue door.

She's prob'ly better off there. Still, some days

I wonder—if I went over there and swore

I'd stay sober: first, would she come home?

and second, could I keep my word?

Sounds like she's doing okay on her own,

and why should she believe me now? Third

time I've been through this. The other two

I lasted a few weeks, then let someone talk

me into
just one drink.
Twelve Steps. That shoe

fits some people, but it's not the way I walk.

Love holds up an angry fist to pride;

they beat each other down till I'm half dead inside.

WHERE'S HARRIS?     
JEANNINE (HARRIS'S MOTHER)

Hey, King, come here. You miss him too, I know.

The house has been so quiet since he left.

You were a puppy when he was a boy, and now

we're both getting old. Where's Harris? What Greg calls the
theft

of his blankets and clothes at least lets me hope he's warm.

I keep setting his place and cooking for three. More

for you, I suppose … 3:17 … An alarm

goes off—you hear it too—each day when the door

stays closed. Harris is not choosing this. Greg's wrong.

I've read enough books by now to know.

Could Greg change his mind? It could take a long

time. Does Harris have any safe place to go?

All these questions, and who am I talking to?

King, the only one listening seems to be you.

SKATING OFF ALONE     
MARTHA (KATIE'S MOTHER)

I dreamed of Katie skating in the blue

costume I wore when I was seventeen.

Someone pushed her and she fell—who

was it? She sprawled on the ice, weeping, between

two skaters who went sailing on, leaving me—

I mean
her
—leaving Katie there. Who's this Joe

who lets these kids stay in his house for free?

Could he be molesting Katie?
No,

Mom, no one's hurting us. This place

is safe.
She's clear on that. But why so cold

toward me? She gets that look on her face

like I should know what's wrong without being told.

In the dream, she slammed down the phone.

Then she—or was it me?—went skating off alone.

PART VII

FINDING HEARTBEATS

KEESHA'S BROTHER     
STEPHIE

Oh, God! It's Keesha's brother in the paper.

Front page story:
Tobias Walker, age

fourteen, was found dead Tuesday afternoon

outside a house on Seventh Street.

An investigation is under way. Witnesses are asked