Raven (3 page)

W
ho do you think you are, some princess?" Uncle Reuben bellowed from the doorway.
"Everybody's up and havin' breakfast. Clara ain't gonna be waitin' on you,"

"I was getting up," I said. "I didn't realize how late it was. There's no clock in this room, and I don't have a watch."

Those kind of excuses won't work here."
"It's not an excuse. It's the truth," I said. He stood in the doorway with his hands on his

"We're going to set some rules down in concrete right now," he declared. "First, from now on, you're up before everybody. You set the table for breakfast, and you put on the coffee. Before you head off for school, make sure the table's cleared and the dishes and silverware are put away. When you come home from school, I expect you to help Clara around here. I want to see you cleaning the house, washing windows and floors. You'll help her with the laundry, too. This ain't a free ride just because your mother is a major screw-up, understand?"

I glared at him.
"When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. You need discipline. You're like some sort of wild animal livin' over there in that hole with that drunk of a sister of mine. That's all ended today, hear? Well?"
"I wasn't living like a wild animal," I shot back.
He smirked. "It looks like I'm going to end up bein' your legal guardian. That means you report to me, and I'm warning you right now, Raven, I don't spare the rod and spoil the child. Understand? Well?" He brought his large hand up. The palm looked as wide as a paddle.
"Yes," I said. "Yes."
He was practically standing over me, his face dark red with fury. I had no doubt he would strike me if he saw fit to do so, and I was afraid.
"Raven," he muttered with a twist in his lips. "What kind of a name is that to give a girl, anyway? She must have been drunk the day you was born."
"I like my name," I insisted. He was terrifying, but I had some pride.
He stood there a few minutes longer, gazing down at me. I pulled the comforter up to my shoulders, but I felt as if he could see right through it.
"I know you're growing older and growing fast, and I remember what happened to your mother, how she was when the boys started looking her way. You better not be taking the same road. I don't want you corrupting my Jennifer, hear?"
I turned away, the tears in my eyes making it impossible to look up at him anymore. I wasn't some disease. I wouldn't infect his precious Jennifer.
He grunted and left the room. I could hear him telling Aunt Clara what he had told me, what he wanted to be my chores. She didn't argue. A little while later, I heard him leave with Jennifer and William. I waited and rose.
"You hungry, dear?" Aunt Clara asked as I went to the bathroom.
"Just a little," I said.
"Coffee is still warm, and I have eggs if you want, even oatmeal."
"I'll take care of myself, Aunt Clara. Please don't think you have to wait on me," I said.
"Don't you worry about that," she said.
I got dressed and found myself some cold cereal. Aunt Clara poured me some orange juice and sat with me as I ate.
"Reuben's bark is worse than his bite," she said, trying to reassure me. "He's just upset with the surprise and all. Don't pay no mind to all those orders he gave."
"I don't mind helping out," I told her. "I did most of it at home, anyway."
"I bet you did." She nodded and sipped some coffee.
"Aunt Clara, what's going to happen to my mother? Is she really going to jail for a long time?" I asked.
"I don't know. Reuben mumbled something about them maybe putting her in a drug rehabilitation program, but we'll have to wait and see. You know, it's not her first time getting herself into big trouble," she added.
I nodded. There was no sense pretending it wasn't true or living in a dream world. Mama was in very big trouble, and that meant I was in trouble, too. Who wanted to live here with a cousin like Jennifer and an uncle like Uncle Reuben? I'd rather be in the streets.
"You just rest up a bit, honey," Aunt Clara said. "You've been through a terrible shock. After I tend to some chores, we'll have lunch, and right after that, I'll run you over to the school to get you enrolled, okay?"
"I'll help you with your chores, Aunt Clara. It's what Uncle Reuben wants, anyway," I said, "and it will help keep the peace."
"Ain't you the smart one?" she said, smiling. She tapped my hand. "Just sit here and finish your breakfast first."
She left and went upstairs. When I was done, I washed all the dishes and cleaned the table. I joined her just as she was starting on Jennifer's room. I paused in the doorway, shocked at the mess. Clothes were strewn about, and there was a dish with leftover apple pie on the floor by the bed, where the phone had been left as well. I imagined she had been sitting there talking to some friends and eating the pie, but why did she just leave it? Wasn't she worried about mice and bugs?
The bed was unmade, and the bathroom she shared with William looked as if someone had had to leave in a hurry. Makeup was uncovered, the sink was still full of cloudy water, an open lipstick tube was on its side, the toothpaste was uncovered with some of it dripped onto the counter, a washcloth dangled over the doorknob, and there were magazines on the floor by the toilet. The shower door was open, a wet towel on the floor beside it.
Aunt Clara began to clean up without making a comment about the mess.
"Why does she leave her room and bathroom like this, Aunt Clara? Talk about living in a pig sty," I muttered. "I guess Uncle Reuben doesn't look in here often."
"Oh, he does," Aunt Clara said with a deep sigh. "And I've been after her, but Jennifer . . . Jennifer's a little spoiled," she admitted.
"A little? This looks like spoiled rotten," I said, but I pitched in and helped. I cleaned the bathroom until it looked spotless, even washing down the mirrors that were smudged with lipstick and makeup.
William's room was actually more organized and cleaner. The messiest thing was his unmade bed. After I straightened up his room, I went down and cleaned up the sewing room. I put the pullout back together so it didn't look like a bedroom. With my few things neatly put away, no one would even know I had slept there.
"You don't have to do that every day," Aunt Clara commented. "You can just close the door."
"I'm sure Uncle Reuben wouldn't like that," I told her.
She didn't argue. Even though he wasn't here, his shadow seemed to linger. The way Aunt Clara looked over her shoulder, it was almost as if she believed the shadow would tell him things we had said.
After we cleaned up the bedrooms, she began to vacuum the living room. I polished some furniture and swept the kitchen floor. I had to keep busy so I wouldn't think too much about Mama sitting in jail.
"You are a good worker, Raven. I hope some of your good habits will spill off onto my Jennifer," she said, but not with much optimism.
She prepared chicken salad for our lunch, and we sat and talked. I really didn't know much about her. She described where she had been brought up and how she had met Uncle Reuben. She said he had just started working with the public works department, and she had just graduated from high school.
"He
was
like an Atlas out there on the highway. With his shirt off and his muscles gleaming in the sunlight. He was a lot trimmer then," she recalled fondly. She laughed. "One day, he pretended to have road work right in front of my parents' house just so he could visit with me. We got married about four months later. My mother hoped I would at least go to a secretarial school, but you're impulsive when you're young," she remarked, and looked very thoughtful for a few moments. Then she shook her head and patted my hand. "Don't you go jumping into the arms of the first man you see, honey. Stand back, listen to your head instead of your heart, and take your time."
It seemed to me that every woman I ever met gave me the same advice. I was beginning to believe that love was a trap men set for unsuspecting women. They told us what we wanted to hear. They wrote promises in gold. They filled our heads with dreams and made it all seem easy, and then they satisfied themselves and went off to trap another innocent young woman. Even Aunt Clara, who had married her young sweetheart, discovered she had gotten caught in a trap. Uncle Reuben ruled his house like an ogre, turning her into a glorified maid instead of putting her up on a pedestal as I was sure he had promised. She just shook her head and threaded herself through her days like a rat caught in a maze.
After lunch, she drove me over to the school. It was smaller and seemed quieter than mine. The principal, Mr. Moore, a stout, thick-necked man of about forty, invited us into his office. He listened to Aunt Clara and then called his secretary and dictated orders quickly.
"I want you to contact her previous school, get the guidance counselor, get her records sent here ASAP, Martha," he said. I was impressed with his take-charge demeanor. "I suppose you know that we'll have to get some sort of instructions from Child Welfare as to her status. You and your husband are going to be her legal guardians, of course?'
"Yes, of course," Aunt Clara said.
"She'll do fine," he concluded, gazing at me. "I know this isn't easy for you, but you should consider what it will be like for your new teachers. They have the added burden of bringing you up to par in their classes. The subjects might be the same, but everyone has his or her way of doing things, and there are bound to be differences. Some teachers move through the curriculum faster than others?'
"I know," I said.
He nodded, staring at me a moment with his eyes dark and concerned. Then he smiled.
"On the other hand, you have a cousin attending classes here. She should be of great help. Your daughter is a year older than Raven?" he asked Aunt Clara.
"Yes."
"Not a big difference. You'll have similar interests, I'm sure. She can help fill you in on our rules and regulations, too. Keep your nose clean, and we'll all get along, okay?"
I nodded.
Mr. Moore suggested I attend classes immediately. "No sense wasting any more time. She can still sit in on math and social studies. She'll get her books in those classes, at least," he said.
"What a good idea," Aunt Clara agreed.
A student office assistant brought me to math class and introduced me to Mr. Finnerman, who gave me a textbook and assigned me the last seat in the first row. Everyone looked at me, watching my every move. I recalled how interested I used to be when a new student arrived. / was sure they were all just as curious.
One girl, a black girl who introduced herself as Terri Johnson, showed me the way to social studies and introduced me to some other students along the way. She called me "the new girl." As we approached the social studies room, I saw Jennifer coming down the hall with two girlfriends at her side. The moment her eyes set on me, she stopped and moaned.
"That's her," I heard her tell them as she passed by without saying hello.
It was worse when social studies class ended and I had to find the right schoolbus home. Jennifer didn't wait for me, and when I found the bus, she was already seated in the rear with her friends, pretending she didn't know me. I sat up front and talked to a thin, dark-haired boy named Clarence Dunsen, who had a bad stutter. It made him shy but also very suspicious. When he did speak to me, he waited to see if I was going to ridicule him I looked back at Jennifer, whose laugh resounded through the bus louder than anyone else's.
Please, Mama, I thought, be good, make promises, crawl on the floor if you have to, but get out and take me home, take me anywhere, just get me away from here.
"I got news," Aunt Clara said as soon as we entered the house.
"What?" I gasped, holding my new textbooks tightly against me.
"Your mother's not going to jail."
"Thank God," I cried. I was going to add, "And good riddance to you, Jennifer Spoiled Head," but Aunt Clara wasn't smiling. She shook her head. "What else, Aunt Clara?"
"She has to be in drug rehabilitation. She could be there for some time, Raven. They won't even let her call you until her therapist says so."
"Oh," I said, sinking into a chair.
"It's better than it could have been," Aunt Clara said.
"Great. I have an aunt in drug rehabilitation," Jennifer whined. She turned her eyes on me like two little spotlights of hate. "You better do what I said and tell everyone your mother is dead," Jennifer warned.
I just looked at her.
"Don't talk like that, Jennifer," Aunt Clara said. "And you should know your cousin helped me clean your room. See if you can keep it that way."
"So what? She should clean our house. You heard what Daddy said. She's living off us, isn't she?" Jennifer fired back.
"Jennifer!" Aunt Clara cried. "Where's your charity and your love?"
"Love? I don't love her. It was hard enough to explain who she was. Everyone wanted to know why she's so dark. I had to tell them what her father was," she complained.
"Jennifer."
"You're not better than me because your skin's whiter," I charged.
"Of course, she isn't," Aunt Clara said. "Jennifer, I never taught you such terrible things."
"It's not fair, Mama. My friends are all wondering about our family now. It's not fair!" she moaned.
"Stop that talk, or I'll tell your father," Aunt Clara said.
"Tell him," she challenged, smirked, and walked up the stairs.
"I don't know where she gets that streak of meanness," Aunt Clara muttered.
I gazed up at her. Was she that blind or deliberately hiding her head in the sand? It was easy to see that Jennifer had inherited the meanness from Uncle Reuben.
"I'm sorry," Aunt Clara said.
"Don't worry about it, Aunt Clara. I'll be fine with or without Jennifer's friendship."
The door opened and closed, and William came sauntering in. He looked up at me with shy eyes.
"How was your day in school, William?" Aunt Clara asked.
He dug into his notebook and produced a spelling test on which he had received a ninety.
"That's wonderful! Look, Raven," she said, showing me.
"Very good, William. I'll have to come to you for help with my spelling homework."
He looked appreciative but took the test back quickly and shoved it into his notebook.
"Do you want some milk and cookies, William?" Aunt Clara asked him.
He shook his head, glanced at me with as close to a smile as he could manage, and then hurried up to his room.
"He's so shy. I never realized how shy. Doesn't he have any friends to play with after school?" I asked, watching him leave.
Aunt Clara shook her head sadly.
"He stays to himself too much, I know. The counselor at school called me in to discuss him. His teachers think he's too withdrawn. They all say he never raises his hand in class. He hardly speaks to the other students. You see him. He looks like a turtle about to crawl back in his shell. I don't know why," she added, her eyes filling with tears. I felt like putting my arm around her.
"He'll grow out of it," I said, but she didn't smile
She shook her head. "Something's not right, but I don't know why. I took him to a doctor. He's healthy, hardly even gets a cold, but something . . ." Her voice trailed off. Then she turned to me with teary eyes and asked, "What makes a young boy behave like that?"
I didn't know then.
But I would soon learn why.
Only I wouldn't be able to find the words to tell her.