One True Friend (9 page)

Amir read Doris's letter a second and a third time. Her words were a gift. The unhappiness could settle back in that little corner of his brain and stay put.

He had just started to answer Doris's letter when the screen door downstairs banged loudly.

"Alvin? What's wrong? You'll break the door," Grace said, her voice raised enough for Amir to hear.

Alvin's voice was muffled, and Amir could make out only a word here and there. "Why?...After everything we did..."

He couldn't hear Grace's words at all, only the soft, murmuring sound of her voice.

"Amir!"Alvin shouted from the foot of the steps. He sounded as if he was standing in the bedroom with Amir. "Come down here this minute!"

Amir was startled. He was accustomed to Alvin Smith bellowing, but it was usually with a loud laugh and a noisy "Big Papa's in the house." Taking two steps at a time, Amir rushed down the stairs to the kitchen.

Alvin held up a letter. "What's this all about?"

Amir flinched and backed away from him. Was he now seeing the other side of this man? Anger had twisted and distorted Alvin's face.

"Why did you do this?" Mr. Smith asked, thrusting a white envelope in Amir's face. "Why? Answer me."

"Do what, sir?" Amir asked. He held up his hands, protecting himself from the blows he thought Mr. Smith was getting ready to land on his face. Amir glanced for a moment at Grace Smith, his eyes frightened like a child's. She turned away.

"You sent a letter to a stranger. After I told you not to. How many of these have you sent out?"Alvin Smith's hands shook as he tore the letter out of the envelope and began to read it aloud.

"
Dear Amir Smith,

"
I just received your letter and would like to meet you so that we can discuss this matter. I know where your aunt and your brothers and sisters live. I would like to take you to them immediately. Write to me at the above P.O. number and give me your telephone number and/or e-mail address so that we can arrange a time and place to meet in Syracuse, NY, or anywhere you wish. Also, your artwork
is beautiful. I can help you sell some of your drawings too.

"
Contact me as soon as you receive this letter.

"
Sincerely,

"
G. Jones
"

Alvin threw the letter on the kitchen table. "He or she has the nerve to give an address. I'm contacting the police. I can't understand why you did this!"

"I wanted to find my brothers and sisters. I had to do something." Amir's lips trembled as he gazed at the letter. "Maybe this person is okay."

Grace stood between Amir and her husband. "Alvin, your pressure," she said.

"It was a dangerous, foolish thing to do." Alvin's voice rose, drowning out the sound of Ronald's basketball hitting the backboard in the yard. His angry breath overpowered the sweet smell of his wife's red-velvet cake.

"Calm down, Alvin. Amir meant no harm."

He turned to Grace. "Meant no harm? He disobeyed us. And was fixing to bring danger to himself."

Shame and anger warred in Amir's heart.
He had no right to open my mail. How did he find the letter?
Amir's head felt light. "But Mr. Alvin, maybe it's not a fake. Maybe the person knows something about them...." He hesitated as tears welled up in his large eyes.

"It is a fake!" Alvin shouted.

Be determined.
"But—but how do you know this
person's lying? The letter doesn't say anything bad." His father's voice ringing in his head strengthened him. He reached for the letter.

Mr. Smith snatched it off the table. "This is junk from a sick person who wants to molest a child!"

Amir looked on with disbelief as Alvin tore the letter into small pieces and threw them to the floor like confetti. Amir dropped to the floor and tried to put the tiny pieces together. "It was my letter. Why did you open my letter?"

Alvin shook the empty envelope in Amir's direction. "The mailman accidentally put the letter in the neighbor's mailbox. Bruce's mother handed it to me as I walked in. This nut wrote A. Smith on the envelope." He threw the envelope on the floor. "God is good. Made sure I got this letter. God takes care of children and fools, Amir. And you're both!"

"Alvin, please, that's enough." Grace clasped her husband's arm and shook him slightly. "We can finish this discussion at family devotions this evening."

He jerked his arm away from his wife. "I'm too angry for devotions. It ain't working no way."

Amir saw Alvin's face; it looked like rough brown tree bark. He saw his eyes drooping as he wiped them with the back of his hand. He heard his voice—low, scratchy, and drained of anger now.

"Why didn't you trust me, son? I told you I'd find them."

Finally, Amir was able to see Alvin Smith not only with his eyes but with his heart, and the tears rolled down his face, too. He tried to push them back, but he could no longer keep them inside. "I ... I'm sorry, Pops. I didn't want to upset you. This person might know where they are."

Grace gasped slightly, and Alvin looked stunned.

"Don't push it, Alvin," Grace said firmly.

Amir sobbed as he still tried fruitlessly to piece the letter together.

Grace bent down on one knee, put her arm around Amir, and handed him a tissue. "This person is lying, Amir."

"But we ... we could've checked."

Alvin's shoulders slumped. He slowly shook his head as he stood over Amir and Grace. "We don't need to check. Your aunt called me at work today.
That's
how I know this fool is lying."

Saturday morning
September 12th

Dear Doris,

When I received your letter last week I was so happy. First, I like the things you said about my mom and dad. Your words helped me. Maybe you have some words for Charlene. Maybe all she needs is a friend, Doris.

There has been so much excitement around here. That's why it took me so long to write you back. I have some unbelievable news. I spoke to my aunt Gloria last week! She was crying so much at first that we could hardly talk. She'd spent the last two years, she said, "Gathering up the little ones, taking them out of foster homes," and she and her husband adopted them. She tracked down Ronald, too, and was real happy to know that we lived together. She thought I was still living with a foster family in the Bronx. Seems like Mister Alvin and my aunt were tracking each other.

At first I thought that my aunt would yell and fuss like she used to do with my mother and father, but she just said that she was happy to hear my voice and know that Ronald and me were okay. She didn't even ask me why I wouldn't talk to her in the past, or why I ran away.

I wanted to say, "Auntie Gloria, I'm sorry for the way I acted," but I felt too shy, nervous, and embarrassed to say anything except "Hello, Auntie Gloria. How are the children?"

She is coming here today with her husband and all of my brothers and sisters. They'd been living in Virginia, but they just moved back to New York City and live in Brooklyn!

We have all been busy cleaning. Miss Grace's been cooking and baking, getting ready for their visit.
I've never seen her act so nervous. She even yelled at Ronald this morning!

My heart starts to beat fast when I think about seeing them all again. It'll be like a family reunion. Almost.

Before I go, 1 have to tell you about another strange and unbelievable event. Someone answered one of the letters I'd sent out, and Mister Alvin found it. The person was lying about knowing where my brothers and sisters were. Mister Alvin was so angry and upset, thinking I'd get snatched by a child molester or something, he almost cried.

He had the same look in his eyes my father had once when I'd been playing over at a friend's house for hours and he thought that I was lost. My father was angry and almost cried, too. For a minute I felt like Mister Alvin was my father for real, and I called him Pops. It just slipped out accidentally. 1 haven't said it again.

But 1 feel more like things are normal here since I said it. I know Mister Alvin would like to have a long discussion about why won't I keep calling him Pops. I don't know why myself. I apologized for sending out the letters, and he apologized for yelling at me. I'm going to paint a picture of Miss Grace and Mister Alvin. I haven't finished the picture of the lake yet, but I will. I always keep my promises.

Let me know what's happening in the Bronx.
Was there a Sunday school picnic this year? Did you go? Send me another issue of The Bronx News.

Gotta go now. My brothers and sisters will be here soon. Mister Alvin is calling me and Ronald. I hope this ain't a dream.

Love,

Amir

"Ronald, come on in here and get cleaned up."

"Aw, Papa, can I play one more game?"

"No. Come in now. Our company will be here soon."

Amir heard one last
bap
of the basketball before Ronald burst into the kitchen like a small explosion. "Can't I play until they get here?"

"No," Grace said. "You know we explained to you that your brothers and sisters are coming today, so you have to be on your best behavior and make them feel welcome."

"And they don't want to see a greasy little brother," Alvin joked. "Remember our talk last night? Remember we explained that when you were little, you came to live with us?"

Ronald nodded.

Grace rubbed his head. "Your mommy and daddy who brought you and Amir and your other
brothers and sisters into this world are with God now."

Amir thought about Doris's explanation of the two kinds of family:
blood family and chosen family.
Ronald wouldn't understand that. Maybe nobody could understand it except him and Doris. So Amir said to Ronald, "Guardian angels. Our mother and father are guardian angels watching over us."

Grace and Alvin were both surprised that he'd added to the conversation.

"Yes," Alvin said, "Amir's right on with that. Guardian angels. That's a good thought, son."

Ronald nodded. "But you are my mama and papa now?"

"Yes," they both answered.

"What about Amir?"

"We're a special family, and Amir is part of it, too," Grace said.

"We're Amir's foster parents for now," Alvin quickly added.

"Will the other kids stay with us like Amir?" Ronald asked.

"They're visiting you and Amir," Alvin said.

"Do the boys play basketball or are they like you, Amir?"

Amir shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe they do, Ronald. I don't know, because I haven't seen them for a long time."

"Perhaps they're artists like Amir," Grace said, proudly holding the rough sketch of the portrait that Amir was planning to paint of her and Alvin.

"Or maybe they're good basketball players like you are," Alvin said.

Ronald spun around the kitchen as if he was dribbling a basketball. "I hope they're good artists like Amir. Then they all can draw pictures of me," he said, posing with the ball under his arm.

Amir smiled slowly as Ronald went back to dribbling the invisible basketball. Suddenly he felt connected to Ronald, just as he had when he first saw him in their mother's arms.

Alvin glanced out the window "Here they come. They're rolling down the driveway now."

Before Alvin finished his sentence, Amir was out the door. Alvin's and Grace's mouths opened in shock. Even Ronald looked surprised to see Amir bursting with excitement, as though the two of them had traded places. Ronald watched Amir run down the driveway to meet the car, then suddenly followed him. As the car came to a stop, Ronald stood close to Amir. Amir put his arm around Ronald's shoulders while they waited for their sisters and brothers to climb out.

Grace and Alvin watched them sadly for a moment from the kitchen window before going outside to greet Amir's family.

10
P.M.
September 12th

Dear Doris,

I'm back again. I have to tell you about all of the things that happened today. I finally saw my sisters and brothers—and my aunt Gloria and her husband, Uncle Zachary. We always called him Uncle Z for short. It almost felt like a family reunion. At first everything was wonderful. My aunt almost jumped out of the car before it stopped—just like Ronald does when he's excited.

I remembered her—except she's shorter and fatter than my mom was, but their voices are the same. She squeezed me like a lemon and began to cry. The kids looked shocked. Ronald stood next to me with his mouth open and his eyes bugging out of his head. "Oh, my God, you look just like your father," my aunt said to me.

Her husband said, "You've grown so tall." (Maybe I'm as tall as you are now, Doris.) "And you finally got some meat on them bones." (He always said I was too skinny.)

Anyway, when Aunt Gloria turned toward Ronald, he looked like he wanted to run down the driveway and get away from her. I thought that she was going to smother him to death when she hugged him. My uncle kept saying to her, "Now, baby, calm down, baby." Ronald didn't seem to know whether to laugh or to cry.

The kids got out of the car, looking shy and confused, like they weren't sure what was happening. Ronald was shy, too, and seemed frightened—which was strange because he always loves to play with other kids. And here these other kids were his own sisters and brothers.

Of course, I remembered them all, though they have grown. Only my sister Olivia remembered me. She smiled, and 1 saw my mother's face again. Olivia hugged me. That's how she always was—smiling, hugging, happy. She hugged Ronald and even Miss Grace and Mister Alvin.

My aunt said, staring at the younger ones, "I always told them that they had two brothers, and they were crazy with excitement all the way up here. Now see how they're acting."

We all went in the house, and Ronald and the other kids just stared at each other, I guess the same way me and Ronald looked at each other when we first met. I whispered to Ronald, "Ask them whether they want to play ball."

"You play basketball?" he asked Shawn and David.

They lit up like little lamps. "Yeah, yeah." All four of them, including Sharon, the other twin, dashed out of the house. Olivia and I followed them. Olivia grabbed my hand as we walked toward the bench, and it felt like we'd never been separated.

We sat on the bench together and watched the others play ball. Sharon played as good as the boys. Olivia whispered to me, "She's a wild tomboy, you know."

After a while I got my sketchpad, and with Olivia sitting next to me on the bench, I drew her. She has a smile like my mother's—the same deep dimples. Then I sketched Ronald, David, and the twins playing ball. I wish I could sketch the sound of their laughter, and I wish I could sketch the happiness in my heart. I wasn't thinking about anything. Not about what happened in the past, or even what would happen in the future.

Mister Alvin grilled hamburgers and franks, and Miss Grace brought out potato salad, fried chicken, and one of her layer cakes, and we all stuffed ourselves. Uncle Z and Mister Alvin watched a baseball game on television. My aunt helped Miss Grace serve the food.

Everything was beautiful until my aunt and uncle took me aside so that they could speak to me privately. I sat between both of them on the porch swing, and my aunt spoke first. "This is a nice place, Amir, and the Smiths are good people," she said. "But they're not your real family."

Then my uncle said, "Your aunt wants all of you kids to live together. You don't know how worried she's been about you."

Aunt Gloria held my hand like she didn't want me
to get away. "Amir, we want you and Ronald to live with us. That's what your mother wanted, too."

"Ronald thinks the Smiths are his family," I said.

"I know, but see how happy he is with his sisters and brothers—and with you. This is what your mother worried about more than anything—that you kids would end up living in different homes. I know, because she told me."

She clutched my hand until it hurt. "It's only left now for you and Ronald to be with us."

Uncle Zachary said, "It won't be easy, because we have two teenagers of our own. Your cousins. They're anxious to see you."

"Me and your uncle are working hard to keep things going as it is." Aunt Gloria looked real worried. "But you and Ronald are family—my sister's children. You don't know how it upset me that you were in a group home somewhere and Ronald didn't even know his own family."

She held my face in both of her hands like I was a little kid. "I've prayed many times for this day. Amir, since you're fourteen, it's up to you to say where you want to live. You can stay here, but you know what your dear mother would've wished."

My uncle jumped into the conversation. "There might be a little fight when it comes to Ronald, because the Smiths want to adopt him," he said, "and I don't think they'll give up so easy. But Ronald will get used to
living with us." Uncle Zachary kept wiping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief, like he was nervous.

My aunt and uncle told me that there would be a hearing before a judge, and I'd have to speak with a social worker. "You're important to all of this, Amir," she said. "If you say you want to live with us and you want all of your sisters and brothers to be together, then the judge will most likely agree to let all you children live with me and your uncle."

All sorts of feelings swept over me, Doris. I could hear the kids playing in the backyard—laughing, screeching, with Olivia watching and calling them, because she's the big sister. They made a lot of happy noise—the way you always want your family to sound. But all I could think about was how those happy sounds would change soon.

First, I felt sorry for Miss Grace and Mister Alvin. Second, I felt bad for Ronald. I couldn't imagine him living anywhere but here. What made me feel real bad was that my aunt was right. My mother and father had wanted all of us to live together.

Well, when it was time for them to leave, Ronald wanted to know whether they were coming back tomorrow. Then the kids started jumping up and down yelling, "Can we come back tomorrow? Can we?"

My aunt didn't answer them. "It's getting late now. We have to go" was all she said.

And my uncle said, "You all had a good time today. You'll see your brothers again."

I hated to see them go, too, but I couldn't bear to look at Miss Grace and Mister Alvin.

My aunt and uncle must've told them they wanted to adopt Ronald, because both of them seemed so sad. After everyone had gone, Miss Grace went to her bedroom, and Mister Alvin took me and Ronald out for a ride. I know he wanted to talk to us, but he was silent, which is not like him. Ronald didn't know anything yet, so he just chattered on and on about the visit. He's sleeping in the other twin bed now, probably having happy dreams.

When we got back from the ride, the whole house felt different. Now I hear Miss Grace's and Mister Alvin's voices coming from downstairs. I can't tell what they're saying—just soft voices sounding like a moan. I'm trying not to be angry with my aunt, because she's following my mother's wishes. But this reminds me of the way she used to upset my mother whenever she visited us. I tell myself that she's only trying to help.

I always thought that all of us being together would make life perfect. And it was for a little while this afternoon. But now I'm more confused than before. I hated to see everyone leave, and part of me wanted to go with them. But I didn't want to hurt the Smiths, and 1 know I'd miss Ronald, too. It's just
like you said once before. Someone is going to end up unhappy.

Love,

Amir