The Dear One (12 page)

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Authors: Jacqueline Woodson

BOOK: The Dear One
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After Caesar left, I sat on the floor beside Rebecca. The television cast blue shadows over the living room. Rebecca pressed the mute button and turned to me.
“She's nice, but she seems a little bit . . . I don't know—like she doesn't know a whole lot about stuff. You know, like, sheltered. She's different from you—”
“Nah,” I said. “I think Caesar and I are pretty much alike.”
Rebecca shook her head. “Even though sometimes you don't act like it, Feni, you know things. You're down on what's up out there.” Rebecca paused and pointed toward the window. “I don't think Caesar's ma would've let me stay at her house. Your moms is different. She's open to things, and she makes sure you're up on them too.”
“Yeah, me and Ma talk about a lot of stuff.”
“Caesar's different, though. Like I bet she wouldn't know Harlem if she tripped in front of the Apollo.”
“Caesar's a good friend,” I said.
“Yeah, she's cool. I like her. It's just I wish—I wish all the kids in Harlem could live in Seton for a month and all the kids in Seton could live in Harlem for a month. I think people would be different then, all around. Are all the kids at Roper like Caesar?”
“I don't know a lot of the kids. I guess everybody's parents want to protect them. Ma's different. She doesn't think I should not be exposed to things. She doesn't want me to grow up narrow-minded. Caesar's the only one I really talk to.”
“Why?” Rebecca leaned back and rested her hands on her stomach.
“'Cause she's the only one who talks to me.”
“You like having only one friend?”
“I have two now.”
“But I'm not gonna always be around.”
I shrugged, feeling my stomach tighten. “I don't need a lot of people.”
“That's true,” Rebecca said. “That's what I like about you. You take care of yourself. Some people need all these big groups and everything to make them feel like they're cool. Me and you aren't like that.”
“But you say you have a lot of friends in Harlem.”
“Yeah, I guess. I miss them too. But I don't really need them the way some people need their friends.”
“My grandmother was my best friend. Look!” I took the picture frame out of my back pocket and handed it to Rebecca. “Remember when you snooped through my room and found this?”
She opened it and stared at the picture for a long time.
“Yeah, I remember. She sure was beautiful.”
“She was the greatest. We were like this.” I held up two fingers and crossed them. “Nobody's ever going to get that close to me again.”
“You can't always be pushing people away. Someday nobody'll come back.”
I took the frame back from her and stared at Grandma, wiping off the prints on the glass with my shirt.
“Nobody will get close to me,” I whispered, realizing that Rebecca already had.
Twenty-two
MR. AND MRS. ROBERTS ARRIVED AT EXACTLY TEN o'clock Wednesday morning. Rebecca was on the phone with Danny but hung up quickly and stumbled downstairs when the bell rang. At the door I was greeted by a bouquet of flowers, the man behind the flowers smiling. When he spoke, his voice made me feel warm and safe.
“My name is Ramón Roberts. This is my wife,” he said, pushing a short, heavy woman in ahead of him. She smiled and took my hand.
“I'm Feni.”
Her hands were small and warm, even though it was cold outside.
Rebecca's eyes opened wide at the sight of the flowers. She looked as though she would burst with pleasure.
Ma came out of the den and introduced herself.
“This is a beautiful neighborhood,” Mr. Roberts said when everyone had settled in the living room. I was in the kitchen making tea but could hear every word. “So many trees and pretty houses.”
“Where are you living?” Ma asked, sizing up the Robertses. I liked them immediately, and that was a good sign.
“We're in Queens. It's residential. Lots of black folks. Good schools. But Barbara, she wants to move out to the country, in the mountains, someday.”
“This is a nice place to have a family,” Rebecca said.
“Is this where you would raise a family?” Mr. Roberts asked.
Rebecca must have nodded.
“Then I guess we'd better start looking at houses in the country,” Mr. Roberts said.
I came back out with a tray of sugar, milk, and tea—peppermint tea for Rebecca and Mrs. Roberts, caffeinated for the rest of us.
Mrs. Roberts was sitting beside Rebecca with Rebecca's hand pressed between both of hers. “We wanted to come out here sooner. You've been here awhile.”
“Two months,” I said, but when everyone turned to look at me, I added quickly, “but it doesn't seem that long.”
Rebecca smiled and Mrs. Roberts continued. “We both had to put in for vacation time. So now we're free for six weeks.”
“Where are you staying?” Ma asked.
“Oh, we subletted someone's place over near the stores. It's a nice place. Big. No problem getting here from there.”
“Do you like Seton?” Mr. Roberts asked Rebecca. “I mean, for yourself.”
I held my breath.
“It's nice for families,” she said. “I miss home.”
It was then that I realized Rebecca would be leaving soon. I had not thought about it in a while, hoping Rebecca would like Seton enough to stay.
“We're going to look at real estate here,” Mr. Roberts was saying. “Don't have any roots, really, in Queens. We'll be starting out fresh with the baby. Almost like newly-weds.” He winked and Mrs. Roberts blushed.
“You think you might raise the baby here?” I asked, nearly spilling my tea.
“It's as good a place as any I've seen. Strong black community. What are the schools like?”
“Good. Real good!” I said.
“No school today?” Mrs. Roberts asked.
“My wife teaches,” Mr. Roberts said apologetically.
“My mother teaches . . . well, she used to.” Rebecca ducked her head and took a sip of tea. Mrs. Roberts patted her hand.
“I got to stay home today. I'm at Roper Academy.”
“That's a good name for a school.”
“It's private,” I said, “but not snobby private.”
“Do you have a lot of friends there?” Mrs. Roberts asked.
“Feni's too mature for those kids at Roper,” Rebecca said proudly. “She likes grown-ups and teenagers. She's quiet. Well, she used to be real quiet.”
Ma smiled. “Roper's a good school, Mrs. Roberts. Their teachers are from most every ethnic background with varied teaching concepts. It's a little expensive. My ex-husband and I share the tuition costs.”
Mr. and Mrs. Roberts exchanged looks. “Sounds like a nice place to work, Barbara.”
“Maybe I ought to look into teaching there. Of course, everything is so up in the air.” She waved her hand. “Plenty of time. That's not what we're here to talk about, though,” she said, turning to Rebecca. “We came to talk about names.”
“Names?” Rebecca and I said at the same time.
“Names for that baby.” Mrs. Roberts smiled. “Have you thought about any? Have you thought about religion or anything of the sort? We're both Christian, but the baby wouldn't
have
to be baptized Christian.”
“But it's gonna be your baby. How come you asking me about that stuff?”
Mr. Roberts spoke up then. “We've been giving this adoption thing a lot of thought. We thought the right thing to do would be to let you choose a name, maybe religion, too, if you have any interest. 'Course, we want you to know you can come see the baby whenever you please....”
“To visit him? But then he'd know I was his mother!”
“That's your choosing too,” Mrs. Roberts said. “We're going to be honest with the baby. . . . Are you sure it's a boy?”
“I have a feeling.”
“She didn't get it checked, though,” I offered.
“Well, maybe we should think of boy and girl names.”
“If it's a girl,” Rebecca said quickly, “I want her to be called Afeni.”
Mrs. Roberts looked at me and smiled. “Afeni,” she said slowly.
I was too surprised to say anything.
“That's Swahili, Mrs. Roberts,” Ma said, struggling to keep the pleasure out of her voice. “It means ‘the Dear One.' I think that's wonderful, Rebecca.”
“Afeni has a pretty sound coming off the tongue, doesn't it?” Mr. Roberts said, repeating my name. “Afeni.”
I felt tears in my throat. No one had ever named someone for me before.
“And when he comes out, all plump and dark like his daddy,” Rebecca continued, “then I want to call him Daniel.”
“Daniel,” Mr. Roberts said softly. “That's a strong Bible name, Daniel is.”
“He'll have strong fingers if his name is Daniel,” I added.
Rebecca and Ma laughed. Daniel had been calling every day for the past month. Rebecca said his mother was going to have his hide when she got her phone bill.
We all sat quietly for a long time, Rebecca smiling at me so much, I nearly started crying. I wanted my grandmother here. She would have liked the Robertses. She would have loved Rebecca.
Twenty-three
THAT NIGHT MARION AND BERNADETTE CAME BY FOR dinner. They had more new clothes for Rebecca and a blanket for the baby. It was white with blue bunnies on it. Rebecca held it to her face and looked at me. “A blanket,” she said, and for the first time the baby was real to me.
“I'm sorry I missed the Robertses,” Marion said, cutting a piece of vegetable lasagna onto her plate before passing the pan to Bernadette.
“Marion, they are wonderful! She's a teacher!” Ma said.
“A teacher,” Marion said, looking over at Rebecca. “That'll make for a smart child.”
“They're cool people,” Rebecca said. “They didn't make me feel like I was bad or nothing.”
“Do we make you feel like that?” Ma asked.
“No way! They're like you, I guess.”
“Don't let anyone make you feel like you're bad,” Marion warned. “You either, Feni. If they do, send them my way. I have something real
bad
for them!”
Bernadette laughed and leaned over to kiss Marion on the lips. I watched Rebecca's face, but it didn't change. Under the table she kicked my ankle and I kicked her back.
“This bed rest thing is something else,” Marion continued. “I think I brought enough groceries to last about a week.”
“You really didn't have to do that, Marion.”
“Yes, I did. We told Clair we would do this together, didn't we?”
Ma nodded.
“And it just so happens that it turned out to be easier than any of us expected, so let me do what I need to do.” Marion's eyes sparkled behind the thin wire-framed glasses she was wearing.
“How's work going?” Ma asked.
“I have a trial this week that's making me a little crazy,” Marion said. “That's why I haven't been here in a while. I'm just wiped out.”
“Aren't we all?” Ma agreed. “I still want us all to take that vacation we've been planning for years and years.”
“Someday,” Bernadette said. “This semester they gave me an English class of seniors! They're so cocky! Rebecca's the best student I have.”
“Tell them how I did on the math test,” Rebecca said excitedly.
“You tell them, Ms. Rebecca.” Bernadette smirked.
“Ninety-two.”
“I got a ninety-four on mine,” I bragged.
“We're not talking about yours,” Rebecca said.
“But we were going to get to it, right, Ma?”
“Anyway,” Rebecca continued too loudly, “Bernadette said my math is at twelfth grade now.”
“Actually, it's a little higher than that,” Bernadette said.
“Beat that!” Rebecca whispered to me.
I rolled my eyes and forked more lasagna onto my plate.
“Smarty-pants.”
“You two are something else.” Marion laughed, shaking her head.
“Ma called again today,” Rebecca continued. “She said she's sorry she couldn't take your call last week, Marion, but those nerve pills the doctor gave her make her sleep a lot.”
“It's all right. I was planning to try her again on Friday.”
“How's she feeling?” Ma asked. “I've been trying to call her too.”
“She said my aunt Sylvia is coming to stay with her until I go home.”
For the second time that day the thought of Rebecca leaving did a slow, painful dance on my stomach. Underneath the table I wrapped my ankle around hers.
“Ma's gonna be okay,” she said.
“She sure is,” Marion agreed.
Rebecca looked up at Marion and smiled.
Twenty-four
“I CAN'T BELIEVE BERNADETTE KISSED MARION LIKE that,” Rebecca said when we were lying in our beds. It was after midnight, but we were giddy and wide-awake.
“They always do that,” I said.
“Bernadette's nice, but she's a little too quiet. She different when she teaches, though. It seems like—like she gets all strong then or something. She sure knows her stuff! I think I learned better here than when I was in Manhattan.”
“She's a good teacher.”
“You know what, Feni? Marion and your ma would make a nice couple.”
“Rebecca!!!”
Rebecca laughed. “Well, they would.”

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