Patricia Bell Page 2

  “Oh.” I answer.

  “Whatever you can tell us to help us find the man—”

  “I don’t know anything,” I say sharply.

  “Look,” the woman says as she draws closer. “I get that you have been traumatized. I do. I could never understand what you have been through and I can’t fathom the pain you must feel at just the mention of the man’s name, but you are not the first.” She comes closer, dangerously close to invading my comfort zone. “And if you don’t tell us what you know, you will not be the last.”

  My body trembles uncontrollably. Tears well up in my eyes. Never once in my mind had I thought the man had done what he did to me, to someone else. How could I have been so selfish to believe that I was his only victim?

  “What do you want to know?” I ask.

  Chapter 4

  “Hello! I’m back just as I said I’d be.” Mrs. Lewis chimes as she glides through the door like she’s my fairy godmother ready to sweep me off to the ball. “Everything is worked out. The Mayfield’s are expecting us first thing this morning. Are you ready?”

  The doctor had already been in and cleared me to leave. Shortly after that, the nurse came and pulled out my IV and all of the wires that were hooked to my body. But the clothes I came in with are nowhere to be found. Which is a good thing, because I never want to see that disgusting dress again. I am hoping this lady does not want me to leave the hospital in this backless gown. I glance down at my meager attire hoping she gets my hint.

  “Oh. Right.” She holds out the plastic bag she’s been carrying since she walked through the door. “Here’s some clothes. I wasn’t sure of your size but these should do.”

  I open the bag, and as expected, inside is a pair of hand-me-down sweat pants and a t-shirt. Down at the bottom, is a pair of slip on shoes and under-belongings. Those at least looked fairly new. Some people might balk at wearing undergarments that someone else has already broken in, but I have bigger things to deal with than that. To be honest, most of my life I didn’t own any at all.

  “Go on in the bathroom and change.” Mrs. Lewis points me in the direction as if I’m not sure where it is. After having that tube in me for all this time, dripping only God knows what into my veins, I’ve had to run to the bathroom every hour. Believe me lady, I know where it is.

  I grab the bag and head in to change. Even though they are not mine or even my size, they are clean, comfortable and not... It’s been a while since… the thought of that horrible dress he made me wear… the waterworks start all over again… how will I ever live without fear? I wipe my eyes and slip on the shoes provided for me. Luckily enough, they are my size. Looky there, things are looking up already. I let out a sardonic snort, throw the indecently unrestrictive gown in the laundry bag, hold my head up high, and open the bathroom door.

  “Look at you. You look like a new girl,” the lady says.

  My ratted hair hasn’t been brushed in months. Although I’ve been spot washed by a sympathetic night nurse, I haven’t had a decent shower in… I don’t even remember, and my legs are hairier than a monkey. But thanks. You get an A for effort.

  “Come on, honey. I’ve got you all signed out and ready to go. Simon is so excited to meet you.”

  I can’t imagine how excited a three-year-old could be over a sister he’s never met. Does he even understand the concept? Either way, it doesn’t matter to me. I have no intention of getting to know him or his foster parents.

  ***

  After about a thirty-minute ride Mrs. Lewis pulls up into the driveway of a two-story stucco style house somewhere in Mesa. I’ve never been this far away from Phoenix. The area looks so new and clean. Inviting. Still, I’m hesitant to let my guard down. The last place I stayed wasn’t in the best of areas but it was pretty nice. And that was where the dirty old man tried to have his way with me.

  “You ready?” she asks.

  As if I have a choice. “I guess.”

  The two of us get out of the car and walk up the driveway. As we get closer, I fall behind. Visions of the past enter my head and I bolt. I don’t know why, but I do.

  “Melissa, wait.” A voice calls from behind.

  I don’t turn back. A wave of fear washes over me and all I can do is run. And I keep going until I am completely out of breath. I have no idea where I am or where I’m going, I just know that I need to go. I race around the corner as fast as I can, but my body is not back to full health yet. My legs are like al dente pasta. Any minute they’ll give out on me.

  It’s no use. I can go no longer, so I stop. I bend down and try to catch my breath. I can’t have gone more than a couple of blocks. After all I’ve been through, I’m a bit out of shape.

  I sit down on the curb and drop my head into my hands. What am I doing? Do I really expect to run away? And go where? As if confirming my uncertainties, a car pulls up and idles beside me. A door opens and closes and the next thing I know, an arm wraps around my shoulders. I break down a sobbing mess. Again. I just want to die.

  “It’s okay, sweetie.” Mrs. Lewis tries. “I promise, it’s going to be okay.”

  I glare up at her. My fear is now masked with rage. “You promise?” I berate as I pull away from her grasp. “Do you know what the last guy did to me? And the last social worker…” I spit. “She promised I’d be safe too.”

  The woman contemplates me for a moment. Her eyes try to comfort me in the gentlest way, but even though I want to believe it will be okay. I can’t.

  “I understand, but—”

  “You understand? You understand?” I point a finger at her. “You will never ever understand the hell I have been through! Don’t ever tell me you understand!”

  “Okay.” She puts her hands up slowly and backs away which makes me feel bad for my outburst. “You’re right. I don’t understand what you’ve gone through. But I need for you to trust me here. These people, the Mayfield’s, they are good, upstanding people. This is your chance—"

  “You don’t think I want a chance at a normal life?” I grab a pebble from the ground and toss it into the street. “You think I like being abused and kicked around like a dog?” I burst into tears again. I hate myself even more for not being able to deal. Crybaby. My mother’s voice rings in my head.

  “Melissa, look at me.” The woman forces me to raise my head.

  I suck back the mucous that attempts to escape and wipe my eyes.

  She searches me for a moment before she speaks. “I don’t usually do this. Well, I’ve never done this before…” she holds my eyes with hers. “I’m going to make you a promise. It goes against all principles and protocols but,” she pulls out a card from her pocket and hands it to me. “If anything, I mean anything, happens that makes you feel uncomfortable, I want you to call me.” She extends the card and I take it. “And I will come get you. I will care for you myself if I have to. Do you understand?”

  I nod my head. I have been lied to all my life. I’ve been kicked to the ground, picked back up and then kicked again. I’ve been abused in every way imaginable. But this woman, for some strange reason… I believe her.

  “Come on honey, let’s just meet them, okay?”

  I nod again. What’s the worst that can happen? She helps me up and I grudgingly saunter back to her car. She drives the two blocks I managed to run on my not-so-planned-out escape and within a minute we are back in the driveway of the same brown two-story stucco house. Welcome home. Only this time, there are people standing out in front of it. And they are… black!

  Chapter 5

  My head twists to Mrs. Lewis who grins wildly. “There they are, dear. And look there’s your cute little brother, Simon.”

  I stare, mouth agape, at the little pasty toddler in the arms of a big breasted, wide hipped, yet stunningly gorgeous black woman. And as odd as the scene appears, the pale-faced boy doesn’t seem to be a bit ill at ease. In fact, he’s hugging her neck as if she gave birth to him.

  Standing nex
t to the two of them has got to be the tallest man I’ve ever seen. He must be a ball player. What I wouldn’t give to shoot some hoops.

  “I know what you’re thinking, it’s okay.”

  No way she has a clue what I’m thinking. If she were to enter my head at this moment and decipher my thoughts, she might just be shocked because this scene is the farthest from ordinary that I’ve ever witnessed. And I’ve seen some bizarre stuff.

  “Come on. Let’s go meet your new family,” she says.

  As I open my door and step out of the car, I feel like I could be an extra in some kind of Hallmark movie or something.

  “Well, hello there, Melissa. My name is Sharon and this is my husband, David.” She looks lovingly to her husband. He smiles. “And this little guy here, he’s Simon.” She looks down to him. “Simon this is your big sister, Melissa.”

  “Lissa,” he repeats. “Hi.” He waves an arm shyly and then covers his face in the woman’s colossal cleavage.

  I hate to admit it but the little guy is super cute. His brown hair and deep chocolate eyes are just like my mom’s. She was pretty once upon a time. Who knew my parents could make such a good-looking kid?

  “Hi, Simon,” I say.

  He peeks out from the bountiful bosom and smiles.

  “Well, we can stand here in this hundred-degree weather or we can go inside where it’s cool,” the man says. I’ve already forgotten his name.

  “Come on in.” The woman heads toward the front door. “I’ve got some sweet tea chilling in the fridge.”

  The rest of us follow behind, in a line, like baby ducklings. What an odd group we are.

  As Too Tall (I’m the worst with remembering names) opens the front door, I’m relieved to step in from out of the heat.

  The house is… magnificent. Excuse my limited vocabulary but it’s something like I have never seen before. For one thing, it’s clean. Well, with the exception of the toddler toys strewn about on the carpet that I can only assume belong to Simon. There are no beer bottles laying around or drug paraphernalia. No food wrappers or dishes piled about. I don’t know that I have ever seen a cleaner house. Not even on television. And it smells good too!

  “Welcome to our humble home. It’s not much but it’s ours,” the woman says. I’ve got to start paying attention to names. I can’t go around calling them Colossal Cleavage and Too Tall forever. That just wouldn’t be polite. I nod and follow the pack to the living room where we all sit somewhere amongst the soft brown matching furniture. The woman puts Simon down on the floor and he goes to town playing with his Matchbox cars.

  “I’ll go get the tea,” she says. “Make yourself at home.”

  I watch as her derriere jiggles its way into the other room. I don’t mean to be so impressed with a person’s shape, I guess I’ve just never seen someone so beautifully curved. Although I’m fifteen, most people think I am much younger. I have no shape whatsoever. In fact, I have been mistaken for a boy on more than one occasion. A doctor once said it was lack of nourishment. Whatever that means. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not stupid. I get that eating a meal once every three days is not normal for the average person but when you lived the life I have, you are thankful for that one meal and even more appreciative if it doesn’t come from out of a trash can.

  Before I know it, the woman is back with a tray of tall glasses filled with iced cold tea. A cheery lemon sits at the top of each, making a glowing performance. Almost too pretty to drink. The woman passes out the drinks and I take mine and sip on it. The sweet sugary substance arouses my taste buds like nothing I’ve ever experienced. So cold and… and… sweet. I take another drink and watch Simon play on the floor as the adults talk business.

  “So, Sharon, David, how are things going with Simon? I heard an adoption was in the works.”

  “Yes, his mother officially gave up her rights. The father passed away a couple…”

  What? Dead? I swivel towards them, my mouth opens in the shape of a giant oval. Iced tea suspended in mid-air as I stare at the woman and contemplate her words. Sharon turns to me, her hand lifts slowly to her mouth as she sees my face.

  “I’m sorry, Melissa.” She gives me the look. You know the one that says ‘I pity your futile existence.’ “I thought you knew.”

  “No,” I answer. “I didn’t.” I turn back to watching Simon as if I haven’t just been told in the most uncouth way possible that my father is taking a dirt nap. The room is silent for a bit, while the adults contemplate what exactly they can say now, that won’t offend the poor homeless girl once again.

  “Look, it doesn’t matter. He wasn’t a good father anyway.” I stand and place my iced tea down on the table and walk out the door.

  No one comes after me, but I’m sure it won’t be long. I sit on a patio chair and contemplate my menial existence. To run or not to run, that is the question. My weakened body and sore legs scream out the answer immediately. No more running. No more hiding. No more fighting. I’ve resolved myself to giving in to whatever the cruel world has for me next. Do with me as you will. Bring it on.

  The front door squeaks open and Bountiful Bosom steps out onto the porch. I don’t look up but I know it’s her. That distinct flowery scent has radiated from her from the moment I stepped out of the car.

  “It’s awful hot out here.” She sits down next to me and sets my drink on the table. “You sure you don’t want to come back inside?”

  “I’m okay,” I say because that’s what people want to hear.

  “Honey, you are not okay. You are the farthest thing from being okay. But you know what, that’s okay.”

  I grin at her excessive use of the word “okay.” I look up at her and she smiles warmly.

  “Can I tell you something?” she asks.

  “Sure,” I answer.

  “My mama used to beat the living daylights outta me. She came at me with all kinds of things. Whatever was available. A shoe, a vacuum cord, once she even beat me with a loaf of bread.” She cracks a smile and I do too. “My point is, I know rough. I know it deep down in the depths of my soul. I’ve been abused from all angles, honey. My story ain’t pretty but it’s mine. And I’ll tell you something else. God doesn’t give us a testimony without first giving us a test.”

  I’m not sure what that means but somehow it comforts me. “Have you ever just felt like giving up? Like the world is too much?”

  “Oh, baby doll, I felt it for the first twenty years of my life. I was a mess. But lemme tell you one more thing, God was watching after lil old me.”

  I raise my eyebrows in doubt.

  “Don’t you go giving me that kinda look. I ain’t lying to ya. I never would. God may have let me go through some things but he never gave me more than I can handle. Look at me, I’m as healthy as a sow and you see that handsome man in there?”

  I nod. He is handsome.

  “The Lord gave em to me. Just like that. ‘Here you go, Sharon,’ he told me. ‘you take this man and love on him and I promise you he will love you back’. And he does.” She slaps the table for emphasis. “Good Lord, he does. And God gave me little Simon too. Aint it funny that God closed up my womb so that I could care for someone else’s child. And a little white baby at that. God sure works in mysterious ways.” She wipes her brow with the back of her arm and then pats me on the back. “Come on honey, it’s hotter than a rotisserie out here. I know just what you need to make you feel better.”

  She stands and heads into the house. I follow.

  “Sorry to be rude but Mel needs a good hot bath, a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup, and a comfortable nap before she can get anymore acquainted.”

  The others stare as I follow Sharon up the stairs. “It’s okay if I call you Mel isn’t it? Melissa is awfully formal.”

  “Sure,” I answer. Why not?

  “I’m gonna put you in this room right here. It’s right next to Simon’s but it’s closest to the bathroom. Is that okay with you?”r />
  “Sure,” I answer again. Being that I’ve never had my own room, anything will do. I glance around. As the rest of the house, it’s beautifully furnished. The queen-sized bed in the middle of the room is daintily dressed with a soft flowery comforter. The matching bedside table and dresser are a shiny redwood.

  “I bet you haven’t had a bath in ages. Come on, let me get you started.”

  She leads me into the bathroom and leaves for a moment. Just as I get the water running she comes back in with a bottle that says lavender bath bubbles across the top.

  “I got this stuff just yesterday. The scent is relaxing.” She opens it and pours a capful under the running water. “Just don’t fall asleep in there. I did last night and almost drown myself.” Her grin tells me she’s just messing with me.

  She lifts my locks of matted hair that has all but turned into dreads and shakes her head. “We’ll take care of this later.” She backs out of the room. “Now you go ahead and bolt this door if it makes you feel safer. Teenage girls need their privacy and Simon doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

  She leaves and closes the door behind her. Per her suggestion I lock it. I sit on the toilet for a moment and let my brain catch up with reality. It’s like I’ve just stepped into a dream. Not my own. No, those are full of demons and monsters. Definitely someone else’s. Somebody who has been raised with puppy dogs and rainbows. My father used to say that just before he smacked me around. You think you are living a life of puppy dogs and rainbows? Whack! You don’t know what bad is. Now stop mouthing off and go get me a beer.

  The aromatic scent of lavender brings me back to the present. I glance over at the hot bubbly water. It’s the most inviting sight I’ve seen since…ever. The last time I saw anything so enticing was when I found a fully wrapped cheese burger sitting untouched at the top of a trash bin. Yeah, my life’s a mess.

  I peel off my clothes and dip a toe into the perfectly steaming, beautifully smelling, bubbly water. My body tingles from head to toe. What a joyous day this is.