Читать книгу The Keysha Diaries, Volume One - Earl Sewell - Страница 17

seven

When I regained consciousness, I felt someone placing a cold washcloth around my face and neck.

“Mom, what happened?” I asked.

“You fainted. Your mom isn’t here,” said Maggie. “And your hand has been cut pretty badly. I called for an ambulance.”

“I don’t need an ambulance,” I said as I tried to sit up, but Maggie placed her hands on my shoulders and held me down. She was a short, bony woman but strong enough to hold me down.

“You need to relax,” Maggie reiterated. I didn’t feel like struggling with her so I relaxed. I studied her features. She had caramel skin with dark brown freckles around her nose and cheekbones. She was attractive but I could tell by the deep lines beneath her eyes that she’d seen her fair share of heartache, drama and pain.

“Why is everything falling apart?” I started crying uncontrollably. I wanted Maggie to embrace me and tell me that it was going to be okay but she didn’t. I wanted to feel safe, loved and wanted, but all I felt was alone.

When the paramedics arrived, they stitched up the deep cut on my hand and offered to take me to the hospital.

“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” I said.

“Honey, you really need to have a doctor look at your hand,” said Maggie, who seemed to be concerned about me.

“I’m fine,” I said as I looked at the bandage on my hand. “See, the bleeding has stopped.”

“Will the stitches hold until I can get her to a private doctor?” Maggie asked one of the paramedics.

“Yes,” answered one of the men as he began putting away his medical supplies. “But make sure she sees a doctor soon. Don’t wait more than one or two days.”

“Okay,” said Maggie. She thanked them as they walked out of the apartment and down the hall.

Once the paramedics left, Maggie once again asked me how I got cut.

“What do you care?” I snapped at her.

“Okay, I’m just trying to help.”

“You don’t really want to help me. You’re just doing a job,” I said as I inspected the bandage around my thumb. She then showed me all of her credentials to prove who she was.

“You can’t stay here,” Maggie informed me.

“No shit, Sherlock,” I said. “I suppose this means you want me to gather up my bags and go with you.” Maggie didn’t say anything; she just looked at me. I read her facial expression and deduced that was exactly what she wanted me to do. I walked around the room and gathered up my belongings. I took one last look around the apartment to make sure that I hadn’t forgotten anything I wanted.

“What about the television?” Maggie asked. “Do you want to take it?”

“No, it barely works,” I answered as I walked out the door. When I stepped out onto the stoop of the building, I thought for sure someone would approach me and ask if I was okay. I mean, I figured that they had to have seen the ambulance and should’ve known that it was for me. No one looked in my direction or even thought enough about my well-being to ask me what was going on. Toya wasn’t around, and I assumed that after she’d cut me, she got in the car with her boyfriend and drove away in case the police were called.

“That’s my car over there.” Maggie pointed to an emerald-green Oldsmobile. She hit the remote locks and the trunk of the car opened up.

“You can place your bags in the trunk,” she said as she moved past me. I took a deep breath and then headed toward her car and my unknown future.

* * *

As I drove away with Maggie, I just stared out the car window and didn’t say a word. I was angry at everything and with everyone. I was already making plans to run away from the group home. I’d rather take my chances living on the street as opposed to being forced to go into some home with a bunch of people I didn’t know. I thought perhaps I could go back and talk with Ms. Maze, Toya’s grandmother, and ask her if I could stay with her for a little while. I know the plan sounds crazy after Toya cut me with a straight razor, but I figured we were even now and we could move past that.

“I’m taking you to a facility for distressed teens that is on 114th and Western Avenue,” Maggie said, interrupting my thoughts. I didn’t want to say anything to her because I didn’t like her.

“Has anyone explained to you what has happened?” she asked. I wanted to answer her by saying, “Duh, no one has said a damn word to me,” but I didn’t. I just gave her the silent treatment.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a no answer.” She made a right turn and then continued. “There is no easy way to put it so I’m just going to tell you like it is. A few days ago, your mother was arrested as part of a police sting to clean up prostitution in poor neighborhoods. When she was picked up, she had illegal drugs in her possession.” I could feel her looking at me, but I continued to look out the window at people who were waiting on the bus. For a brief moment I wondered where they were going, but Maggie continued talking.

“When Justine realized that she wouldn’t be getting out anytime soon, she notified the officials at the jailhouse and informed them of you and your situation. Once it was determined that she was telling the truth, your case was assigned to me. If you allow me to help, we can work together on finding you a good foster home.”

I felt as if I’d been kicked in the chest by a horse when she said the words, foster home. I never thought I’d end up living in a foster or group home for teens at risk.

“The group home I’m taking you to can be as comforting as you make it. You’ll be staying with other teenage girls in a dorm-room setting. You’ll be under constant supervision by the adult staff members. The facility works on trying to create an atmosphere of family so that everyone feels comfortable.”

“How long do I have to stay there?” I asked with a nasty attitude. I didn’t like the sound of the place she was taking me to one bit.

“Well, I’m not sure. I still have to speak with your mother about contacting your father.”

“She doesn’t know who he is,” I said to her. “It could be any one. I could pass him on the street every day and never know it.” I paused in thought. “You know her dumb ass is pregnant, don’t you?” I tossed out the question because I wanted her to know that my mother suddenly meant very little to me. I had a very low opinion of her. If I saw her on the street, I’d turn and walk the other way. I wouldn’t even acknowledge her.

“Yes. I am aware of the pregnancy. That case has been assigned to me, as well.” I didn’t say anything else because I was attempting to calm my nerves. I couldn’t stop my hand from slapping my knee like a superball bouncing around recklessly. Maggie made a left turn and I noticed that we were going past a bookstore. I would have loved to stop so that I could get a few books to get lost in but I knew that wasn’t an option.

“I’m going to be reaching out to a man who may be your biological father,” Maggie continued. “She’s given me the name of a man who she thinks is your dad.”

“Well, how come she’s never told me who he is?” I asked.

“Well, according to her, she didn’t have a strong sense of who he was until recently. Her friend Simon helped her to narrow down the possibilities.”

“Oh, God, please don’t tell me I’m related to him.”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to see if this man is willing to be tested. He may refuse testing or deny any type of relationship with your mother.” I got so angry that I started slapping the dashboard of the car like I’d gone mad. My emotions were out of control. Maggie didn’t say anything. I suppose she was used to sudden emotional outbursts.

“So if this dude takes the test and realizes he’s my father then what?” I asked. “Do I get to go live in his castle and live happily ever after?”

“If he does agree to be tested and he learns that you’re his child, I’m sure it would have an impact on his life,” Maggie said.

“What if I don’t want to go with him? What if he’s some creep who’s just as messed up as my mother? Then what?”

“Well, we’d never put you in a situation where you’re in danger of being harmed. If your biological father has a criminal record or is unable to care for you, then you’d be able to remain at the group home until you turn eighteen years old. At that point, you’d be free to go forward and live your life.”

“It sounds like a real jacked-up deal,” I said as I wiped a tear from my eye. I was trying not to cry.

Maggie pulled into a gas station and turned off the car. She repositioned herself to look directly at me. I refused to make eye contact with her. I continued to look out the window at people who were walking by.

“If you’re thinking about running away from the group home let me give you a few things to consider. The streets are very cold at night. You wouldn’t know where you’d be sleeping or where your next meal would come from. You run the risk of being attacked or taken advantage of by people who don’t have your best interests in mind. All I’m trying to do is help you. If the situation with your biological father doesn’t end with ‘happily ever after’ then you still have the option of finishing your education and even going to college. Hang in there, get your education so that you can locate a good job and support yourself. You seem like a very nice girl who has been dealt a very bad hand, and I’d hate to see you crumble apart. Your situation is bad but I’ve seen worse,” Maggie explained. I still didn’t say anything to her.

“Look. All I’m asking is that you stay at the group home if things don’t work out for the best.”

“It doesn’t matter. If this guy is anything like my mother, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me,” I said sarcastically. “I don’t care what happens to me anymore.”

“Be positive, Keysha. Perhaps he will care once he’s made aware of your situation.” I finally turned and looked her directly in the eyes.

“No one has ever cared about me or loved me, with the exception of my Grandmother Rubylee, who is in jail. I might as well step in front of a bus and kill myself.”

“Well, since you feel that way, maybe I shouldn’t bother trying to contact this man,” Maggie said as she started the motor back up and continued on.

We finally stopped in front of the group home, which was a brown brick bungalow-style structure. The screen door had black burglar bars on it, and the wooden banisters on the front porch needed to be repainted. The brushes around the property were overgrown, and the grass had been completely neglected. All the way at the top of the structure I noticed three small windows, which I assumed was the attic.

Maggie pressed the latch for the trunk and was about to get out of the car when I stopped her by speaking up.

“Contact him,” I said. “Maybe fairy tales do come true.”

“Okay,” said Maggie.