"To get me in trouble," she whined.
"Why would I do that?" I asked. "Why would I stoop so low as to put something like that under your pillow?"
She stared at me hatefully. Then she turned to Uncle Reuben. "Daddy!" she moaned.
"Jennifer's never done anything like this before," he said. "I'd bet you have."
"You'd lose," I said.
"Daddy, I didn't do it," Jennifer cried, stamping her foot.
"All right. All right. I believe you." He thought a moment. I could see there was an inkling of doubt in his mind. "We'll let it go for now, but be on the lookout for any more trouble, even the slightest. If I find drugs in this house again, I'll bring the owner to the police. That's a promise," he said, directing his words mostly at me.
Jennifer looked satisfied and glanced at me with an expression of contentment. "I'm tired," she said. "I have to rest before I go to the movies."
She hurried away. Nothing more was said about it, but when we left for school the next day, she hurried up to me before mounting the steps to the bus.
"I know you did that with the joint."
"It was yours. You accidentally left it in your lunch bag, but I got it out in time so you wouldn't get in trouble. I thought you would appreciate my hiding it for you," I said, pretending to be dumb.
She stared at me, and then her eyes filled with cold understanding before she stepped onto the bus. Later, I told Terri, and the two of us had fun telling our other friends. Jennifer avoided me most of the day. It was one of my best days at the new school, but I was still wishing it would all come to an end. I had had enough of Uncle Reuben and battling with Jennifer.
My hopes died a quick death when we got home that afternoon. Jennifer refused to talk to me on the bus and walked slowly so I would get to the house first. As soon as I entered, Aunt Clara stepped out of the living room, her hand clutching a handkerchief to her mouth.
"What's wrong?" I asked. Jennifer came up behind me.
"Your mother," Aunt Clara said. "She's gone and run off from the rehabilitation clinic. She's a fugitive."
"Great," Jennifer said, "Maybe she'll come for you, and you can run off together."
"Stop that talk!" Aunt Clara cried in a voice so sharp and shrill even I took note. "I won't have it."
Jennifer's eyes filled with tears. "You care more about her than you do me," she accused. Aunt Clara started to shake her head. "Yes, you do. But I'm not surprised," she added, and flew up the stairs.
"I should leave," I murmured, looking after her.
"Where would you go? You have to be with family," Aunt Clara insisted.
Family, I thought. That's a word I'll never understand.
5 Behind Closed Doors
"C an you believe it?" Uncle Reuben cried as he entered the house. "The police came to my office, came to see- file at work! The police! Everyone sees them and wants to know what's going on. My sister, I had to tell them, has run away from her drug rehabilitation center, violated court orders. She's some kind of fugitive, and the police came to see if she's contacted me. I can tell you this. If she does have the nerve to contact me, I'll turn her in. She's dragging us all down with her!"
I was in my room trembling, but I could hear him slamming things around in the kitchen.
"Please don't get yourself so upset, Reuben," Aunt Clara pleaded.
"Don't get upset?" He laughed madly. "My sister's rotten through and through, Clara. She's like some dark, rancid piece of fruit stinking up the place. Now I got her juvenile delinquent to raise. Why didn't she think before she got herself pregnant by that nogood Cuban bum? The state's going to pay us for this. I'll see to that. I see this kind of thing all the time . . women who can't afford to have children, who should never have children, just raining them down on the rest of us. That's why taxes is so high, you know, because of people like my sister and what she produces."
"You've got to stop this, Reuben. You'll get yourself sick," Aunt Clara said.
"Sick? I am sick, sick of it all." He groaned so loud I thought he was coming through the wall. "It's not like I didn't try to help my sister. I told her how a real man acts . . I showed her. I showed her, all right."
"Reuben ... I don't think you should get so worked up," Aunt Clara said. I could tell by the sound of her voice that she was nervous and wanted to change the subject.
What was Uncle Reuben saying about my mother? What had he showed Mama?
I heard him get up and walk to the stairway, pausing at my door. My heart thumped. I thought he would come bursting through the door and yell at me about my mother and how I was a drain on society. I kept my eyes to the floor and waited, holding my breath. A moment later, I heard him start up the stairs.
My eyes were burning with hot tears. I stared out the window.
Mama, how could you do this to me? Why did you run away? For a moment, I wondered if she would come here to get me, take me away from all this. I'd even hide out with her. Who was I fooling? I thought. I was probably the last thing she thought about when she fled. By now, she must be with one of her degenerate boyfriends, either hiding out or racing off to live in some hovel.
My mother seemed to be two different people to me now. Once, when I was younger, I thought of her as someone to love and someone who loved me, but somehow, somewhere, that all disappeared, and we started to live like two strangers. Maybe Uncle Reuben was right. Maybe my mother was just no good. Something had gone wrong inside her, and she could never be rehabilitated. She would never change.
Was that same bad germ inside me, too? Would I become like, her someday, despite myself? Was Uncle Reuben right about that, too? I was my mother's daughter. I inherited something from her, and maybe that something was evil. I wasn't any sort of student. I had no real friends. I was afraid to have any ambitions, and so, when I tried to envision myself ten years from now, all I could see was the same lonely, lost person.
Uncle Reuben wasn't wrong. I was going to be just like my mother.
I sighed so deeply my chest ached. Then I stood up, wiped my eyes, and went to help Aunt Clara prepare dinner. She looked very tired and very sad herself. The way she held her shoulders slumped, kept her eyes down, and moved with tiny, insecure steps made her look even smaller than she was. It was as if she had shrunk inches since Uncle Reuben had come home. She was the one who looked pitiful, and yet she turned to me with sympathy flooding her eyes and shook her head.
"You poor dear," she said. "I know how you must feel. I'm sorry your mother has done these things. She should think what she's doing to you."
I didn't reply. I set the table, moving
mechanically about the kitchen. I dreaded sitting at the dinner table with Uncle Reuben tonight. My throat was closing as it was. As soon as he began his tirade against my mother and complained about me, I would surely choke on anything that was in my mouth, and he would scream about my wasting the food he worked so hard to provide.
Suddenly, I felt dizzy and had to seize the top of a chair to keep myself from falling. Aunt Clara came running to me.
"What's wrong, Raven?"
"I don't know. My head just started to spin."
"You look white as a candle. Here, let me get you some cold water. Sit," she ordered, and I did so. My stomach churned. When she brought me the water, I held the glass with both hands and sipped. It did make me feel a little better.
"I want you to go lay down, honey," she said. "I don't need you to do anything. Go on. Rest. You've had a big shock."
She helped me to my feet and guided me back to the sewing room. I hadn't pulled out the bed yet, so she did it for me, and then I lay down.
"I still feel a little sick," I said.
"Oh, dear. If you're not better in a little while, I'll take you to the emergency room."
"No, I'm not that sick, Aunt Clara. I'll be all right," I promised.
She stroked my hair and felt my forehead. "You don't feel too hot, but you're very clammy It's all emotional, I'm sure," she said. "Just re
st."
She brought the glass of water in and set it beside me. I settled under the blankets and felt a little better, but still my stomach flopped. I closed my eyes again, and before I knew it, I fell asleep, only to wake to the sound of Uncle Reuben's loud voice rumbling through the house like thunder demanding where I was and why I wasn't helping to serve the meal. I started to get up, and the room spun on me, so I had to lie back.
Their voids became indistinct mumbles, and I must have fallen asleep again, because when I opened my eyes this time, Aunt Clara was standing beside the bed with a tray in her hands.
"How are you feeling now, dear?" she asked.
I blinked, rubbed my face, and sat up slowly. Fortunately, the room didn't spin.
"Better."
"Good," she said. "Here, I brought you some dinner. You have to put something warm in your stomach."
"I'm not very hungry."
"I know, but it's best to eat when you're under such a strain. Go on," she said, placing the tray in my lap, "eat what you can."
"Jesus, serving her like she's some kind of special guest," I heard Uncle Reuben spit from the doorway.
"I told you she wasn't feeling well, Reuben. I want her to get some food down."
"Of course, she's not feeling well. Who would if they were brought up the way she was? It's a wonder she's not seriously sick with some bad disease," he concluded. "We might all come down with it, and you asking Jennifer to share clothes and such with her."
"I'm just as healthy as Jennifer," I fired back at him.
He smirked. "I can just imagine what your teeth are like. When were you to a dentist last?"
I hadn't been for nearly a year, so I didn't answer "See what I mean?" he said to Aunt Clara. "Either we get the state to help us, or .
"Or what?" I shot back at him.
"Don't you be smart with me," he said, pointing his finger at me.
"Let her eat, Reuben. There's time to talk about all this," Aunt Clara pleaded softly.
He glared at her, and she looked down quickly. "Time? Yeah, there's time," he said sarcastically. "Lots of time. My sister ain't coming back for her. That's for sure," he added, and walked away.
I started to sob, my shoulders shaking so hard I thought my heart would split in two.
Aunt Clara put the tray down and sat beside me, embracing me. "Don't cry, dear. He doesn't mean what he says. He's upset because he was embarrassed at work. Please, you'll only make yourself sicker, and then what?"
I sucked in my breath and pulled back my tears. "Please, eat something, Raven," Aunt Clara begged.
"All right," I said. "Thank you, Aunt Clara."
I started to eat, and she left. Afterward, William came to my door.
"I'll take your tray to the kitchen for you," he volunteered.
"Thank you," I said, smiling, "but I can do it, William. it's nice of you to offer, though."
He continued to stare at me.
"Is there something wrong?" I asked him.
"Are you feeling better now?"
"Yes, I am," I said. "Your mother was right. Hot food helped."
He smiled. "Good, because I want to show you the double-decker birdhouse. It's done," he declared.
"It is? Okay," I said.
I took my tray to the kitchen. Aunt Clara, who was watching television, came rushing in. "I'll do that, Raven."
"I'm fine now," I told her, and smiled.
"And you ate, too. Good," she said. She put my dishes in the dishwasher. "You just go and do your homework, or come watch television if you like, Raven."
"I'm going up to see William's new birdhouse, and thenI'll do my homework," I explained.
"Oh. That's very nice," she said.
William looked proud. "Come on," he said, and I followed him up the stairs to his room.
As I sat and listened to him explain what kind of birds would feed in his house, I felt sorry for him, sorry that his father took so little interest in what he had accomplished. He was like a flower, stunted and pale because it received so little sunlight. He almost talked as much about his father making fun of his hobby as he did about why he loved making the houses. When I showed sincere interest in him and what he was doing, he wasn't sad or shy anymore. He practically beamed with pride.
"Thank you for showing me your work, William. I bet you could sell these birdhouses. They're so perfect," I told him, gazing around at his collection. It was impressive when I realized he had done all of it himself.
He beamed and strutted about his room, showing me his books on birds, his tools and paints, and some of his other creations.
"Do you have a favorite bird?" he asked me. "Because if you do, I'll make a special house for you."
"No. I don't really know very much about birds. We didn't have many trees around the apartment building."
"Oh, I guess not," he said. "I've been hoping to build a house for every kind of bird we get around here. But it takes money to buy all the wood and stuff. And every time I talk to Daddy about my projects, he just makes fun of me." He hung his head sadly.
"I wish I had some money to help you buy supplies," I told him.
"Don't worry. I'll get the money." He thought a moment and then decided to tell me how. "Daddy drops a lot of change behind the cushions on the sofa downstairs when he sprawls out to watch television. When nobody's around, I pick up the cushions and find it. Once, I found nearly two dollars in quarters and dimes."
I laughed. "Your secret's safe with me," I told him. I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. For a moment, he looked so shocked I thought he might cry or scream. When I turned around, I saw the cause of his alarm. Uncle Reuben was standing in the doorway.
"What the hell are you two doing in here?" Uncle Reuben's face was bright red with fury. "Raven, get away from my son. I knew you were a no-good troublemaker like your mother. And here you are flaunting yourself around and tempting my son just the way she tempted me. Well, I won't have none of it! Get out of this room right now before I drag you out!" For a second, I was too terrified to move. Then Uncle Reuben started pulling William toward him, and I knew I had to get away.
I saw William's horrified face as I ran past him and knew that I had to speak up.
"We didn't do anything, Uncle Reuben. Honest, William was just showing me his birdhouses." I was probably just making him more furious, but I had no idea why he had gotten so angry, and I was ashamed that I was leaving William to face his father's fury all alone.
Not stopping to look back, I ran downstairs and straight into my room, shutting the door tightly behind me. I knew that Uncle Reuben would break down the door if he wanted to, but the house was quiet suddenly, and I prayed that maybe I was safe. For now.
I tried to start on my math homework, but there was no way I could concentrate with my heart still racing and my pulse pounding. What if Uncle Reuben was upstairs hurting William? What did he think we were doing, anyway?
William already lived in constant fear of being ridiculed and belittled by his father, and now it seemed that Uncle Reuben had one more thing to add to his ammunition--against both of us.
It was obvious even to me that the reason William was so withdrawn was that he was afraid. Afraid that he would get yelled at, made fun of, or maybe even worse. I knew Aunt Clara was concerned about William; she even talked about taking him to a doctor. Why couldn't she see that the reason William was so quiet and timid was that he was afraid?
What would happen if I stayed in this house where I was belittled and ridiculed as well--for my birth, for my mother, for things I hadn't even done? Would I become like William? Would I just one day disappear inside myself?
Just as I was opening my math book, Aunt Clara poked her head in the door. "Raven, are you all right?" Her eyes were all red and puffy, and I could see that she'd been crying.
"Yes, Aunt Clara, I'm fine. How is William? Uncle Reuben didn't hurt him, did he? We weren't doing anything bad, Aunt Clara! I was just thanking William for showing me his bird
houses. We. . . we . . ." Talking about it made me upset all over again, and I began sobbing so hard I couldn't even speak.
Aunt Clara came to sit beside me on the bed. "Shh . . . I know, dear, I know. Everything will be fine."
"But, but William . . . what did Uncle Reuben do to him?" Why wasn't she answering my questions?
"He's fine, dear, but please, promise me not to speak of this again. Reuben will just get upset all over again. Promise me you won't speak of it!"
"I promise, Aunt Clara."
She stood there for a few moments, then told me not to stay up too late studying, and left. I sat with my math book on my lap and stared up at the dark ceiling. I could hear Uncle Reuben's heavy footsteps, a door close, water running, and a phone ringing. Poor William, I thought. I had seen it in his face. He was terrified. What about Aunt Clara? Had she built a wall of self-denial around herself, shutting up the dark secrets? Like a coiled fuse attached to a time bomb, sooner or later all the horror in this house was sure to explode.
I didn't want to be here before. I surely didn't want to be here now, but what choice did I have? I had no father. I had no other relatives. I felt trapped, caged in by events far beyond my control. It heightened the panic that throbbed so loudly in my heart, I thought for sure it sounded like a jungle drum beating out the rhythms of alarm.
What should I pray for? My mother's
miraculous appearance? My mystery father's sudden interest in a daughter he had never known? Who was more lost than me, someone without even a real name, forced to live with people who really didn't want me?
A real rumble of thunder pounded at the windowpane and was soon followed by a downpour. Thick raindrops tapped at the window as the wind grew stronger, slapping torrents against the walls. I heard Aunt Clara rushing around downstairs shutting windows. Then I heard Uncle Reuben curse from the top of the stairs. Moments later, it was silent except for the monotonous sound of drizzle. I could feel the darkness deepening around me, wrapping itself around this house.
My cheeks felt cold. All my tears had turned to ice behind my eyes. I turned over and buried my face in the pillow as I tightened myself into the fetal position and swallowed back my fear and loneliness.