by Lynn Moon
“You’re not a white girl, child.” She snapped at me this time.
Why was she so angry with me? What did I do to her, or to anybody? Oh, Mom, where are you?
“You’re a product of a mixed marriage, just like your father.”
“My mother never talked about my father.” I wanted to raise my voice. Let her know that I could harbor anger, too. No, I shouldn’t. Not right to start a fight on my first day. It took all my strength not to explode on her. I had to stay calm.
Instead of yelling, she paced around the room. I wished I knew what she was thinking. After a few strained moments, she seemed to calm down, and continued her story.
“Ted was also angry with him. Said that he could pass as a white man. That he’d watch over you if your father wouldn’t. And he did.”
I nodded. She might be crazy, but she was right. As far back as I could remember, Mr. Cutler, I mean Uncle Ted, always lived next door.
“Where ever your mother moved to, Teddy followed. I remember how angry she’d get. Tickled me, actually.” Grandmother stopped pacing and laughed. I didn’t really get the joke. It must have been a good one, because she just kept laughing. “As time passed, she finally gave in to his antics. I think in her own way she eventually came to love Teddy as a brother.”
“So, how did you end up down here, in Atlanta?”
“Law school. When your father moved here, I didn’t want him to be alone. So I came with him. Since I was rarely allowed to visit you, why stay in New York?”
“My mother kept me from you?”
“Your mother kept you from everyone, except her parents. Teddy was more stubborn than her. She eventually gave in to him after your father and I moved away.”
“I wished he had told me about all this before my mother died.”
“He couldn’t,” she said. “Your mother wouldn’t have it.” As her eyes narrowed, she frowned. Her anger was back.
“Did you know my grandparents died?” I needed to change the subject. Push her in a different direction. “Not you, of course. I mean my mom’s mom and dad. PapPap died two years ago, and Grandma last year.”
“I know, dear. Teddy told us.” Rubbing her hands together, she coughed a few times. “Well, enough of this silly talk. You must be tired. Planes always make me sleepy. Why don’t you shower and rest? We’ll talk more another time. If you need anything, just ask the maid. Her name’s Carla. Push that little button by your door and speak into the screen.”
She kissed my forehead, and left my room. Staring at the small button and screen, I knew that I’d never use it.
I always thought something wasn’t right about my life. But never in a million years would I have guessed that my dad was black and his mother was bi-polar. So why all the secrets? Were my mom’s parents ashamed of him or was it something else? I don’t remember them being prejudice against a person just because of the color of their skin. No, it had to be something else.
As I undressed for my shower, I examined myself in the mirror. Natural blonde highlights glimmering in the light made me smile. My dark brown hair was only slightly curly. Dark brown eyes and eyebrows added color to my otherwise pale complexion. No, my skin was definitely white, not black. My father was right. If I had never found out about him, I would have gone through life never knowing I was half-black. Wait until I tell Kendra that I’m just like her.
After bathing, I turned on the laptop computer. I searched for black people with white skin but nothing came up. I searched for white-skinned-black-people but again, nothing. No matter what I tried, nothing even slightly explained why my skin was so pale. After several searches, one small article on genetics caught my attention. I read how skin color depended on a person’s genes. The article confirmed that over time, my skin could darken. Having darker skin would be nice. A tan without going into the sun? Oh, yes.
Climbing into bed, I cried. I didn’t cry because I was half-black, or because I was half-white, or because my grandmother just might be a total lunatic. I cried because I missed and wanted my mom.
CHAPTER 9
MY NEW LIFE
OVER THE NEXT WEEK, I tried to get closer to my grandmother. If she really was crazy, there was nothing I could do about it. After all, these people were the only family I had left. I’d just have to accept her for who she was. So, with my father still away on business, I thought this was the perfect opportunity. Oh boy was I ever wrong. What we talked about that first night now seemed to be taboo. I had to watch what I said or how I asked for something. Otherwise, she’d fly off the handle, and rant and rave about things that didn’t make any sense.
What she did do, now that was great. She spent lots of money on me. Every day, shopping made the top of our priority list. I picked out new outfits and any cool thing I wanted for my room. We found this great plaque made out of metal. The thing was almost as tall as me. The metal curved in different directions with colors that shimmered in the light. No real pattern, but I loved it anyway. Charles mounted it on my bedroom wall for me. We also found a bath towel warmer. Never knew the darn things existed. But it was great getting out of the shower and grabbing a warm towel. The woman spoiled me with material things, but that was all. Otherwise, not once did I feel welcomed in her presence.
Late one afternoon, we drove through our neighborhood. I now lived near Atlanta. Our house was in the suburbs, of course, with more trees than I could count. I noticed that with all the tall greenery, we couldn’t see much. Our neighborhood reminded me more of a forest than a housing tract. Our street, Cave Road, was where the rich people lived, and Grandmother never hesitated to let me know.
Late one afternoon, I walked through our backyard and out through the small wooden gate. Behind our house, trees canopied a narrow road that disappeared into the darkness. Although afraid, I was also too curious not to explore. Would a wild animal be waiting for me around the next bend? Instead of meeting my demise, I stumbled upon several corrals and a huge stable. We owned horses.
After dinner, I asked Grandmother about what I’d found. She explained I’d be expected to learn to ride. I couldn’t wait to tell my friends, Kendra and Wendy.
“What about school?” I asked, just before bedtime.
“It’s interesting you should ask.” Grandmother whispered something to our maid, Carla, before answering me. “Your father looked into several. All good, mind you. However, he decided on Davis Academy. It goes up to the eighth grade. He felt it important you have time to make friends before having to change schools again.”
“I have friends and I miss them. Can they visit soon?”
“I don’t see why not.” She smiled. But something about her smile troubled me. It wasn’t real, more of a smirk. Her lips looked happy, but her eyes showed something darker, more disturbing.
“We’ll drive by it soon. Right now, you need to get to bed.”
After a quick hug, I whispered, “Good night, Grandmother.”
She didn’t respond.
The following afternoon, I finished sorting my new clothes by color. Earlier that week, I had picked out my own sheets, blankets, and pillows. Everything on my bed looked so comfy that I looked forward to bedtime. I had just smoothed out my new white and red comforter when Grandmother entered my room.
“Well, what do you think?”
“Nice.” She clasped her hands together again. I knew that look. It meant trouble. “We should find some matching rugs. This pink carpet and these frilly drapes,” she said, pulling a pink-laced curtain away from the bedpost, “need to go. I’ll have Charles work on that tomorrow. Would you prefer one large rug like this old one, or several smaller ones?”
“Um, I think several smaller ones. That way I can mix the colors.”
“Perfect.” She smiled. Again, her smile seemed fake.
Feeling brave, I asked, “Something wrong, Grandmother?”
“Nothing. I’ve just come to fetch you. Your father wishes to meet with you.”
“My father? Meet with me, now?�
� Oh no, what do I do? “Um, what do I call him? Should I change my clothes? What if he doesn’t like me? What if—”
“Calm down, Pete. You call him whatever makes you comfortable. He is your father.”
There was that Him name again. Butterflies bounced around inside my stomach. My hands shook as I reached for the bedroom door.
“Pete, pull it together. Do you need to talk first?”
For a moment, I thought maybe she cared about me. But it just didn’t feel right yet, sharing everything with her that flew through my head. Some thoughts were better if left private. “No.”
Emotions I never experienced before surged through me. Feeling both weak and sick at the same time, my legs barely held me up. The long dark hallway seemed even longer and darker, almost as if something evil lurked in the shadows, waiting for me.
Not wanting to use the grand staircase, I decided on sneaking through the kitchen. Using the back hallway meant I could peek into his private study and get a good glimpse before we met eye-to-eye. I could prepare myself a little. But, when I stepped into the kitchen, my heart stopped. Leaning against the counter stood a tall and very black man. When our eyes met, he tilted his head to one side and winked. Wanting clarity, I tried focusing my thoughts. He definitely had my eyes; the eyes from my dream. In his large hands, he held a dainty teacup.
“Herbal tea.” He held up the delicate floral china. “Would you care for some?”
For the first time in my life, I heard my father’s voice. It didn’t sound anything like Hank’s. It was deeper with a slight Southern accent, and the tone touched my heart, reminding me of a warm summer’s breeze. I wanted to hear more. My mind couldn’t think of the right words, so I shook my head instead. My stomach, tied in knots, instantly rejected the idea of food or drink.
“You must be Petunia?”
“Pete!” I jumped as I blurted out my name. He raised one eyebrow, while curling his lips. Oh, why can’t I read minds?
“Pete is it? That’s fine.” He took another sip, studying me. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some tea? It’s great for calming the nerves.”
He looked so tall and handsome in his dark suit. Black rimmed glasses framed his oval face. Would I need glasses when I got older, too? My mother had perfect vision. His graying temples embodied an aura of authority, which I liked. My eyes trailed down his slender legs, stopping at his large black shoes. This man was huge.
We stared at each other for the longest time, neither saying a word. With the kitchen so quiet, I jumped when my grandmother’s voice broke the spell. She came from out of nowhere, startling us both.
“Pete resembles you, Peter,” she said, picking up a dishtowel.
My father almost dropped his cup. “Thank you, Mother, for those kind words.” He placed his empty cup in the sink. The loud clink of porcelain on porcelain made me wonder if the tiny cup broke. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a brief to complete before bed.” He glanced down at me, adding, “Pete, I’m glad you’re here. I’m deeply saddened about your mother. I loved her very much.” He headed for the hallway, but stopped. When our eyes met again, an odd sensation flew through me. Somehow, his presence made me feel even more alone. “This is your home now. Make it so.”
Then he was gone. Just as fast as he entered into my life, he walked out. I didn’t even get a chance to say anything other than my name, and he already knew that. I had wanted to meet this man my whole life, and all I said was my name. Not wanting to break down in front of my grandmother, I ran up the stairs to my room. As soon as the door closed behind me, the dam broke.
My body shook with each wave of sensation. No matter how hard I tried to control myself, my disappointment exploded through my lips. I screamed out everything I despised about my new life. I hated my mom for dying and leaving me here alone. I hated my father for not wanting me, and leaving me when I was only a baby. I hated living in a big house with total strangers. I hated not having my friends near me. I hated … I hated … I hated …
As I screamed into my pillow, a knock echoed through my room.
“Pete?” Grandmother’s muffled voice barely made it through the thick wood.
She entered. My tears streaked down my face. I just couldn’t hold them back any longer. As our eyes met, I thought about how there were two types of pain: the kind you fought so hard to keep hidden, and the kind you’re too afraid not to let out.
“It’s not easy what you’ve experienced. You must be strong. There’ll be no pity parties in this house. Get it together. Life’s not always what we expect.”
“Huh?” I could not believe what I was hearing.
“We don’t choose our paths. We just have to walk them. Pete, without pain, we could not understand the true meaning of happiness. There is a reason for all of this.” Her eyes seemed dark and ominous, filled with an emotion I didn’t recognize. “I’ll leave you alone for now. In the morning, I expect you to pull yourself together. Are we in agreement?”
I nodded. With the door shut and her on the other side, my mind replayed her hurtful words. Obviously, she didn’t want me here. Maybe that girl, Trish, was right after all. My father didn’t want me here, either.
CHAPTER 10
A NEW SCHOOL
I DIDN’T GET TO see much of my father during the week. He left the house before I got up in the mornings, and returned way after I went off to bed. Grandmother kept her distance, too. The only thing I considered good in my life revolved around my owning a horse; Saddlebag. I even had a personal riding instructor. His name was Joe. Joe treated me better than my new family did. He talked to me and not at me. He listened to what I had to say, and he always acted happy to see me.
After breakfast, I made my way to the stables. It always took me awhile to walk down the long dirt path that winded through the trees. Charles offered to drive me, but my grandmother squelched that idea right away. She believed I needed to toughen up, and the long walk seemed like a good place to start, according to her. At first, the dark, long path frightened me. The tall trees made everything look so gloomy. After a few days, however, I actually looked forward to the solemn stroll down the long and winding trail. Here, between the trees, I could be more me, more myself. I didn’t have to watch what I said or how I said it. With only the wind to talk to, I pretended that I was in full control of my life.
Living with my mom fell somewhere between a bucket of love and a home of security. Here, however, it was more like existing between a puddle of repulsion and a residence of chaos. Everyday my mom had told me how much she loved me, and she proved it with lots of hugs and kisses. Never in a million years would she have said, “No pity parties.”
“Good morning, Sunshine.” Joe’s voice always seemed to lift my spirits.
“Morning, Joe. How’s Saddlebag?”
“All geared up and waiting for you.”
Of the six horses my father owned, I favored the shiny black one the most. Saddlebag’s gentle nature made him easy to ride. And he was all mine. Joe explained that my father bought him a few days before I arrived. Wow, I actually owned my own horse.
Every morning after packing a small lunch, I disappeared into the trees with Saddlebag. Never did I return until just before dark. Caring for a horse not only gave me love, but taught me a lot about myself, too. Joe taught me how to bathe and brush my horse. By the end of a few weeks, I had the hang of saddling and riding all by myself. Galloping through the grassy meadows granted me the independence I so desperately craved. Within a month of being here, Saddlebag and I had explored almost all of my father’s thirty-eight acres—all by ourselves.
One night at dinner, I arrived home surprised to find my father was eating with us. Whenever he was home, dinner was served in the large dining room and not in the kitchen. Grandmother scooted me straight upstairs to freshen up as soon as I opened the back door.
“Pete, you’re a mess. Dinner’s in the main room tonight. Hurry and change.”
Dinner was quiet. It was as if we were all tryin
g to ignore each other. The tension was so thick I could hardly eat. After dinner, I ran to the stables. I needed to calm down. As soon as I entered the barn, I jumped. My father stood next to Saddlebag rubbing his neck.
“Hi,” I said.
“So, we meet again.” My father winked at me.
“I guess so,” I replied.
“Going out?”
“No, almost too dark now,” I said. “Just wanted to see my horse. Thank you for buying him for me.”
“You’re quite welcome. I’m glad you like him.”
I picked up a comb to brush out Saddlebag’s mane.
“Would this be a good time to talk?” he asked.
“I guess,” I said, combing out my horse’s hair.
Saddlebag was all black except for his white mane and tail. Although not a purebred, he was mine, and I loved him.
“If I were in your place, my first question would be, where have I been your whole life?”
“That question has crossed my mind a few times.” Concentrating on a couple of knots, I kept my eyes glued to my horse.
“My love for you and your mother was never a question. I just knew I couldn’t win against her father.”
“What do you mean?”
“They told her he was dying of cancer. Respecting her father’s dying wish, she moved in with her parents. I guess the separation and my hurt pushed us farther apart.”
“PapPap didn’t die until I was twelve.”
“I know. And that’s the reason I felt so betrayed. They lied to her, to us. I didn’t learn of this until much later. But, I’d already moved to Georgia by then.”
“I see.”
“What do you see?” he asked.
I stopped brushing and stared at him. “A couple of months ago I asked my mother about you. She said she didn’t want to remember because of the lies. The lies didn’t come from you, did they? They came from my grandparents.”
“You are very smart young lady,” he said, smiling.