Somebody's Someone (38 page)

“Nothin’, forget it!” I answered her. Lunch was done.

“Why does it matter what color the family is, Regina?”

“B’cause I’m scared that black folks don’t really want me. They always leave me like I’m a mistake nobody wants to fool with. Plus, they beat me and call me names and holler at me, when all they have to do is just be nice sometimes. Why come everybody black gotta be so mean and act like they can’t stand they own kids? You don’t see my own mama or daddy or any of my kin breaking they black-ass necks to get over here and take me home, now do you? And another thing, all I ever heard was that nobody paid anybody ’nough to take me in. Somebody was always having something to say ’bout money. It’s the white people like Claire who is trying to be good to me and show me I can be anything I want to. And she ain’t never asked for one dime. That’s the difference it makes.”

I watched as Miss Forde’s face got hard like a rock. She reminded me of what that ole ugly Lula Mae looked like when she was ’bout to go into one of them “Don’t make me have to tell you twice” moods. Anyway, I knew she couldn’t hit me, so it didn’t bother me that her “panties was all tied in a knot”— like I learned to say at the shelter.

“I think I understand, Regina. You don’t know who you are, and you are heading for an identity crisis. Understand this. You are
black!
Always have been, always will be; and nothing you can do will ever change that. This white world that you so want to be a part of does not see you as anything other than that! And it is high time that you start taking responsibility for who you are. Now, I don’t want you to believe that what you said is true for all black people. You’d be surprised how many black families there are that are willing to love and support black children.”

That might’ve been true through and through, but from where I stood, I’d never met them kinda folks b’fore. And I didn’t get anything she said to me ’bout wantin’ to be white. As a matter of fact, she was soundin’ pretty crazy to me—I just wanted somebody to be nice to me.

“You need to think about what I’ve said, Regina. We are running out of options for you, and I think a nice black home would be a good thing.”

I half listened and thought that Miss Forde didn’t know ’bout the option of Miss Claire’s mama. I decided to wait till I met with her again b’fore I brought it up.

The older Miss Kennedy came at five on the dot, and I was ready to go with her. The front office called and told the unit staff that my ride was here. I grabbed my bag and started off. Almost forgettin’ my two presents, I turned round and went back and got ’em off my bed. I had made a plant hanger out of jute for Claire and a crocheted patchwork afghan for her mama—I knowed that ole folks liked blankets to keep ’em warm—at least Big Mama did. The older Miss Kennedy was nice, just like Claire, and they sounded the same when they talked.

“Hello there, darling,” she called to me, and pulled my body right smack into her bosom. She was warm, and had a big chest. She took my bag and put it in the backseat, which I thought was a nice thing to do. After sliding in the seat, she told me to put my seat belt on, and I did. I liked how she told me what to do. It made me feel like she was thinking ’bout me. Then, we was on our way.

“Is Christmas your favorite holiday, Regina?”

“Yeah!”

“What do you want Santa to bring you this year?”

“I don’t know.”

“Isn’t there anything you would like?” she asked me.

“Um, anything?” I answered back with my eyes as they lifted themselves up to help me out.

“Well, you have to ask for something.” Somethin’ told me that she was tryin’ to get me to ask her for what I wanted. So I did.

“Okay then.” I played along. This was the first time in a long time that somebody was asking me what I wanted for Christmas. Sometimes out at Big Mama’s somebody might ask me if they r’membered, but if they didn’t, you got what you got. And most times Big Mama would say that Ruby wasn’t sending no money, like she always did, so not to expect much. One year, though, after a lot of begging and pleadin’, I got a Easy-Bake Oven I’d seen on the TV ’bout a hundred times, and all the girls in my school was saying how they mamas was gonna be buying them that oven for Christmas. I think Ruby must’ve come up with some money and sent it to Big Mama—but I didn’t know for certain. I thought I was gonna be cooking some bread or rice pudding up in it, like I’d seen Big Mama do, but the best I made was a nickel cake with red hots stuck in it since the li’l oven was heated by a lightbulb, not real fire.

Claire’s mama asked me again. “Well, Regina, tell us. What do you want for Christmas this year?” I thought back on what I’d always wanted for Christmas, more than anything in the world. And figured just maybe I could get it this time.

“I want him to bring me a family.”

I looked at her out the corner of my eye and saw her noddin’ her head up and down, but she didn’t say nothing.

Claire came to her mama’s house later on that night. I was so happy to see her, I ran right up to her, grabbed her hand, and held on to it tight. She told me the reason why I couldn’t’ve left with her was b’cause some of the kids was really making a fuss ’bout us goin’ off together. And that the unit staff was even havin’ problems with it, so she saw fit that we should leave in different cars. I just listened and said nothing. In my mind, though, I couldn’t for the life of me understand why come some folks didn’t just mind they own business.

I came to Claire’s mama’s house on Christmas Eve. She told me to call her by her name—Elizabeth.
Elizabeth
sounded pretty to me, and I wanted to please her, so I did. Elizabeth told me how her family had Christmas the night before, so that they could spend a longer time together. I thought that made sense. After a while, a bunch of folks started coming over, and they all wrapped they arms round one another and seemed real happy to see each other. I could feel something inside me pull for what they had. Us girls was told to go into the kitchen and start getting the food ready to put out. Claire had a sister, and she came and helped us too. As I watched ’em go ’bout they ways, again I felt a quickness go right through me. It made water come to the front of my eyes faster than I could keep up with it. I didn’t know where the sadness was coming from, but lately, anytime I got round folks and they families I just couldn’t stay myself— even wit’ Marlena. It was like I was wantin’ so bad to just be mushed in and be like everybody else. I wanted for folks to come up to me and say, “How’s ya’ mama, girl? Where she at?” And I’d point them over to where my mama was standin’, and right before they’d walk away, they’d say, “You sure do look just like her.” And there my mama would be, givin’ me a look andsmilin’ ’cause she knowed how much she loved me and was proud that I was hers. And before our eyes would leave each other, she’d wink at me. I’d lower my head from the weight of my own smile.

To keep the water from falling out my eyes, I held on to my breath and started countin’ the carrot sticks I was layin’ on the plate. One, two, three...By the time I got to forty, I could breathe again wit’out cryin’.

I swear b’fore God that I was on
The Lawrence Welk Show.
The only thing missing was Lawrence Welk hisself. Elizabeth could play the piano real good. She busted out with “Deck the Halls,” and everybody started singing together. I secretly made fun of people who acted like this. When I would watch them Christmas specials on TV, like John Boy and them, I thought they was silly and corny. But seeing folks act like that in real life wasn’t so bad; they was just having some fun. Claire, who was standing ’cross the room, gave me the eye, which was a code that said something without words. I learned to understand that eye thing back home with Big Mama and them, and you didn’t want to see it twice. Anyway, I pulled outta my corner in the couch and started singing with the folks. I was doing all right for a while, till Claire had to go and tell everybody, “Hey, everyone, we have a singer in our midst! It’s Regina! Just listen; she has a great voice.”

“Come on over, Regina, and sing with me!” Elizabeth called out. The North Pole ran through my body right at that minute. I mean it was true that I liked to sing. Specially in the talent shows at the shelter and for the staff and the other kids. But not here in front of a bunch of people I didn’t know too good.

“Nah, I mean, no. I cain’t. I mean, I can’t do it,” I said back. Oh, Lord, my words was getting all caught up on my tongue. I know they was seeing me as a country bumpkin who couldn’t even talk right, let alone try and sing. So I stopped and thought ’bout what I wanted to say real good.

“You guys go right ahead! I’m just fine being right here,” I said, and didn’t even stumble over my words. They didn’t give in so easy. I ended up singing “O Come All Ye Faithful.”

We sang, ate, and drank our fool selves stupid, right on up till midnight. They even had a clock that had a bird come out and say “Cuckoo, cuckoo.” We all sat around that tree, with its nice lights and decorations. It wasn’t one of those silver trees that you had to take out a box and put up, each year losing another branch somewhere b’tween the box and another year gone by. And it didn’t have the li’l four-colored, plug-in wheel that made the silver turn different colors, like the one we had at Big Mama’s. No this was a real live tree. I’d seen small trees and skinny ones too, but this was the best one yet.

Since she was the mama, Miss Elizabeth was gonna be handing out the presents. But first we had to start with the stockin’s. Oh my lands, I ain’t never heard of such a thing in real life. There was a stockin’ just for me. And it was made in the likeness of a Converse tennis shoe, connected to a checkered-board sock that was blue and white. The Converse was red, with a blue star caught in a blue circle. It looked just like the real thing. I had seen Claire working on that same Converse stockin’ at the shelter. And when I asked her who it was for, she told me a friend’s li’l daughter who loved Converse just like me.

“Here, pumpkin, this is for you.” Claire had lifted the stockin’ from where it rested and handed it to me. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” As I reached up to take the stockin’, she said, “I love you, pumpkin.”

My whole body stopped what it was doing. My hands seemed to be frozen in the air as they grabbed for the Converse tennis shoe that was made just for me. Right then I could’ve died and not even missed myself. I couldn’t think of a time when somebody had ever said such a thing to somebody like me.
I love you, pumpkin.
I knowed right then that she was sayin’ what was true. My heart was a merry-go-round, and the words was the li’l horses that you see going up and down and round and round. For a minute I felt like I did the time Miss Francis had me stand up in front of the class to be welcomed—I didn’t know what to say then or now. For another minute I sort of hung on to the stockin’ and looked at all that she had done for me—and just me alone. I finally looked up at Miss Claire, and I could feel my throat go dry all at once as I let them strange words I couldn’t r’member ever speaking b’fore fall out my mouth. “I love you too,” I said as I rocked my legs sideways in my chair and didn’t know what to do next. I didn’t know what I was s’posed to do with the “I love you” part, but I just tried to hold on to them words from both of us.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

FOR THE LOVE
OF YOU

WHEN I CAME BACK
to the shelter after Christmas, being there didn’t feel so good for me. I had failed what was called a group home and a couple of foster homes faster than you could spell
shit.
I failed the group home on account of taking hits off of a marijuana joint. You would’ve thought I known betta’ than to mess with that stuff, ’cause of all the kids in the shelter who was there b’cause they folks was either drug addicts or in jail for some kind of drug problem. Plus, I’d even promised myself and Claire that I was gonna be somebody one day and that I’d never touch the stuff, but being at this group home, it was too hard to keep saying no. The more I resisted, the more I was called a pussy or was threatened to be beat up. I tried to tell my social worker that the girls at that home was pushing dope and selling their tails out to boys left and right. But no, she didn’t wanna hear me. Miss Forde swore up and down that I was trying like hell to get back to the shelter and Claire.

“Regina, I am sure that Mrs. Richards, the director of the home, would never allow any of the ladies to involve themselves in potentially criminal activity. I know that you are doing your best to get back to Claire Kennedy, and I won’t permit it.” I hated her! Once again she had stuffed me in some place where I had no business being. And just like that Sacramento home, she’d just walked in one day and said, “It’s time to try another placement.”

The home itself wasn’t so bad. The owner lady really tried to do right by us girls. I learned how to take pictures with a camera and develop ’em on my own. I even got to go to a place called A.C.T. It was a big theater where you go and get on stage and learn how to act by puttin’ your energy—as they called it— into something good. All in all the place was fine as long as the grown-ups was round. But at night when they went home to they own families, some of them girls would start cutting up something terrible.

I got tired of trying to tell Miss Forde ’bout what was going on, and just decided to give in and smoke the grass that had been offered to me a million times.

“Here let me show you. You just hold the lighter at the end of it and inhale like you do a cigarette.” Jennifer, one of the girls, and me sat out back of the house one night. We was not in the sight of our housemother, so I took the chance and inhaled a hit of the reefer like I’d been doing it all my life. I already knew how to smoke, so the inhaling part was fine. With my lips circled round the tip of the end paper, I sucked in as much as I could each time. At first, I couldn’t see what all the talk was ’bout; it was no different than a ciga... rette. But then, slowly, or fast—I didn’t know which way it was coming at me—Ohjesusinheaven! I could feel everything in my body beating at one time. And the lights. The lights from the other houses started connecting into one big line of light. I needed to get outta my skin. I jumped up from the back steps and took off down the street, not knowing where I was going or why. There was voices telling me to run. Run far away! By the time they caught up with me, it took three people to tackle me to the ground. Not to mention three fistfights with the girls and the housemother, ’cause I thought they was all out to poison me. Smoking that grass left me senseless in a closet for three days; I was too scared to come out. And it was the only place where I could watch what folks did without having to look over my back. Not only that, but I got to go and visit Miss Claire for a overnight, and when I got back, I was so scared to sleep by myself that I creeped into one of the girls’ beds and went off to sleep. The next day the girls asked me why I had to go and sleep with somebody when I had my own room.