Who Asked You?

by Terry McMillan

  I am forever jumping ahead of myself when what I need to be doing right this minute is getting the kids’ dirty clothes and damp towels out of their hampers before they start to mildew. Or heaven forbid if the dye from one should soak into something that can’t be bleached out. That’s right up there with scraping my fingernail on a chalkboard. When the phone rings I scamper into the laundry room, drop the bundle on the floor, and grab the portable. It’s BB. “Are we good to go?”

  “I wish we could, Vennie, but Tammy can’t watch Lee David on Saturday, because she’s going to see Shania Twain.”

  “Well, that sounds like fun. Oh well, I was also going to invite Arlene and Omar over, too.”

  “I am not in the mood to spend more than five minutes with her right now, so this is a blessing.”

  “I know she can get on your nerves. But she means well. She’s just so outspoken and doesn’t seem to know that her opinions aren’t always right or important and that we don’t always need to hear them because she does not seem to exercise good judgment or tact when it’s important and I don’t think she’s ever going to change which is why I just choose to love her the way she is.”

  “It would be a different story if she turned that camera on herself. I mean, come on. She walks around like her life is so perfect. It’s like she’s watching TV without cable.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Did she tell you about Omar?”

  “No, did something happen to him?”

  “He’s getting that Lap Band.”

  “What he needs is a lap dance. What exactly is a Lap Band, again?”

  “It’s when they go in and cut out part of your intestines so you eat like a mouse and get full and you lose like ten pounds or more in a week’s time but Lord only knows what happens to all that flab and you and I both know that Omar could stand to lose an easy hundred pounds but the funny thing is that he hasn’t even told Arlene but she was snooping around in his room like she always does and they say you can’t see for looking and anyway she not only found all kinds of evidence but has since even heard him talking on the phone to some girl about it.”

  “I know Omar isn’t talking to a real girl?”

  “You know Arlene can’t let on she knows what he’s up to but I think it’s exciting and what she needs because can you imagine what her life will be like if Omar were ever to move out and get married?”

  “No, I can’t. Anyway . . .”

  “Wait. Talk to me. You are always so quick to get off the phone and I wanted to ask you a couple of things about the boys.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, for one, school’s almost out and I was wondering how they were going to be spending the summer.”

  “I’m working on that.”

  “Well, BB, I just wanted you to know that if they’re interested in going to one of those sleepover summer camps for a week or two where my kids always cried when I picked them up I’d be more than happy to pay for it and if there are day camps they can attend while you’re at work I’d be more than happy to cover that and pick them up and take them.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Why in the world would you be willing to do all this, Vennie?”

  “Because I want to and because I care and because I can and those kids deserve to do things they may not have the chance to do because it costs money and I have a lot of it and I know you don’t and it would make me feel good. Plus, my kids have complained about not being able to drive since they’ve had their licenses, and without telling me, Rodney bought them both cars so my services have already started to diminish.”

  “Well, it’s time, don’t you think?”

  “Time passes too fast. Anyway, that’s one thing.”

  “What else?”

  “Those boys need to go to church. At least a couple of times a month. I don’t think I need to explain the obvious, but I would be more than happy to take them with me and the kids.”

  “This is very thoughtful of you, Vennie. And let me say this: I agree with you about church and it’s been bothering me every night they say their prayers, but I can’t afford to have someone watch Lee David on Sundays. So thank you. I’ll go to Sears to get them a few nice things to wear.”

  “They don’t have to wear suits, you know.”

  “Good. And as far as camp goes, I know the boys would love it. I admit I was just starting to worry about what I was going to do about them this summer. Ricky just asked me the other day if he could go to swim camp, too.”

  “Great. So take this off your worry chart. Before you go, how’s Lee David hanging in there these days?”

  “He’s not doing any better but not doing any worse either, although I had to get him a wheelchair.”

  “Poor fella. I give you credit for not putting him in one of those dreadful places and it’s a good thing you have Nurse Kim there. I’m sure she’s a big help.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “It also helps to put a little more faith in the Lord.”

  “Don’t start, Vennie. We were doing fine.”

  “Just one more question. Do you have any idea where Trinetta might be or if and when she’s planning on coming back to get the boys?”

  “No to both of your questions.”

  “That child has been lost too long. She definitely needs Jesus in her life.”

  “Maybe one day she’ll let him in. Anyway, before I say goodbye, how’s everybody in your house doing?”

  “Everybody’s doing just fine.”

  “And Rodney?”

  “He’s good. He’s been in Thailand for two weeks, and might not make it home for Lauren’s performance which I’m sure you know nothing about but she’s singing in a school play that I cannot remember the name of right this second.”

  “I thought you said he was in Hong Kong?”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes, you did, Vennie. Is something going on you don’t want to talk about?”

  “Not really. Well, maybe. Rodney and I have been going through a rough patch and I believe it’s because he’s never at home and I feel more like a single parent than anything and when he is home he doesn’t seem to appreciate how much work it takes to make our home run as smoothly as a successful business but he seems to take it for granted and he doesn’t seem to take prayer all that seriously anymore and were I to check his cell phone I am worried that I might find out information that could threaten our marriage so I prefer not to look at all. I will be honest with you, BB, and say this: I’m worried I might end up in this big house alone by the time the kids graduate, and because I never planned for nor anticipated a future without my husband in it, I don’t know what I would do by myself.”

  “Vennie?”

  “Yes,” I say, because it’s obvious she can hear these tears rolling down my face, and I’m a little upset because I usually do such a great job of pretending like everything is just perfect around here and inside me. I only do it because I don’t want BB or Arlene to worry about me and I truly believe in my heart that God will do His will and fix this or show me a new path. “I apologize for being overly dramatic, BB, and worrying about something that hasn’t even happened yet.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay, though, Vennie? I haven’t heard you sound like this before.”

  “I’m fine. The kids are hanging out with their friends and I think since I’ve missed four periods that I’m just getting super-emotional and overly sensitive. But please don’t say a thing about this to Arlene, okay?”

  “I won’t.”

  “Promise.”

  “I promise.”

  “Wait! You know what, BB? I’m curious about something that you may not think is urgent, which it isn’t, but I was just wondering since you don’t go to church anymore, do you ever re
ad your Bible?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I already know the whole story.”

  “Do you hear what you’re saying, BB?”

  “All I’m saying is I don’t believe a lot of the stuff in the Bible because too many people have altered it and put their spin on it, and of course I believe in God, but I prefer reading novels since I don’t know how they end.”

  “But what about Jesus?”

  “What about Him?”

  “He died for our sins.”

  “And I’ll always be grateful for it, which is why I try not to commit any. That’s my other line and it looks like the boys’ school. I’ll call you back in a few days.”

  And she hangs up.

  Principal Daniels

  Is that you, Betty Jean?”

  It doesn’t look like I’m registering in her memory bank, so I decide to go ahead and let her off the hook.

  “Warren Daniels? I was your sons’ seventh grade science teacher. I also doubled as a basketball coach, which is why we never won any games.”

  It’s probably this bald spot and gray hair and perhaps a little bit of a belly that might be throwing her off.

  “It’s nice to see you after all these years, Mr. Daniels. I’m here to find out why I was called and asked to come in to see you.”

  “Well, first of all, we tried phoning their mother but the phone was disconnected and you were listed to call in case of an emergency.”

  “Is there an emergency? Did something happen to one of my grandsons?”

  “No. Nothing has happened to either one of them. But Ms. Jenkins has been complaining about Ricky’s behavior. He’s being disruptive and rude, making it difficult for her to conduct her class. Is everything all right in their home?”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Is their mother having the same type of problems she’s had in the past?”

  “That would be a yes.”

  “So, does this mean the boys are in your care?”

  “They are.”

  “How long have they been living with you?”

  “A few months.”

  I push my chair away from the desk and shake my foot a little because it’s fallen asleep. This is how it usually starts. The grandparents are put in a position where they are often forced, mostly out of concern for the well-being of their grandchildren, into substitute parenting, and it’s usually because the parent has fallen prey to the lure of drugs. It’s sad to watch grandparents, who should be preparing for retirement, take on this burden, which is exactly what it is, but they do it so that their grandchildren don’t have to be raised by strangers.

  “Well,” I say, pushing my chair back, “Luther, as you probably know, is an excellent student and he doesn’t appear to be displaying any negative behavior. Ricky, on the other hand, has been quite a handful and our counselor, Mrs. Barlow, has done her best to work with him but to no avail. Which is why she asked that I reach out to you.”

  “Exactly how is he being disruptive?”

  “Well, when Ms. Jenkins calls on another student, Ricky interrupts and yells out the answer. He likes to clown. Do things to get attention. He’s also not being very polite. He told Ms. Jenkins to kiss his you-know-what.”

  “He said what?”

  “I wouldn’t make this up. He seems to be having a hard time sitting still. We see this kind of behavior all the time in children whose parents were drug users. Have you been able to maintain his medication regimen?”

  “Well, Luther has been handling it since it appeared that this was just one of his responsibilities. But I’m not sure if he’s run out. He hasn’t said anything.”

  “Although Luther is a very bright little boy, Betty Jean—forgive me, may I call you Betty Jean?”

  “Well, it’s my name.” She chuckles a little bit, which helps make this easier.

  “Good. As I was saying, Luther is only in second grade, and notwithstanding how bright he is, this is still quite a lot of responsibility for a child his age.”

  “I agree. I’ll start giving it to him myself. I did refill the prescription.”

  “Then perhaps Ricky’s dosage might need to be reevaluated. After all, he is a growing boy. Our school psychologist thinks it would be in his and everyone’s best interest if he were retested.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you have temporary custody of your grandchildren?”

  “You mean have I been to court or something?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “So, are you aware what this means?”

  “It means I’m taking care of my grandchildren until I can figure out what else to do.”

  “Have you been in touch with anyone from the Department of Social Services?”

  “No. I’ve been thinking about it. But I wanted to wait until I had a better idea when my daughter might be coming back.”

  “Do you have any idea when that might happen?”

  “No.”

  “Well, let me tell you a few things you might want to do, but this is strictly outside of my professional role, do you understand what I’m saying here?”

  “I think so.”

  “Let me close my door first.”

  “I’ll close it,” she says, and gets up and does just that. She may be thicker but she’s still a good-looking woman, and a good woman to take on this burden like too many women her age are being forced to do. She sits back down and moves her chair closer to the edge of my desk. I wish it were more impressive. Like oak or mahogany, something besides this maple veneer that’s peeling at the corners.

  “For starters, as the grandparent, without temporary custody, you have no legal right to make decisions for your grandsons. Were they to get sick, you don’t have legal authority to take them to the doctor or a hospital. You can’t register them for school, though of course you are authorized to pick them up and drop them off, but until you go through the expense and the legal maze of getting temporary custody, you’re in for a bumpy ride.”

  “So what exactly are you saying?”

  “Let me put it to you this way, Betty Jean. You have to learn how to play a game with the folks who work in these state agencies, especially those who are supposed to be there to help you. They can often feel like your worst enemy. And don’t be fooled just because they’re black. Which is why . . .”

  Betty Jean is looking at me like we’re on a game show and I’m about to give her the answer.

  “First, let me ask you this. Are you a God-fearing woman?”

  “Well, I’m a Christian if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Would you be willing to exaggerate or stretch the truth or lie if that’s what it would take in order to get some kind of help for your grandsons?”

  “I suppose I would.”

  “Well, for starters, I’m going to get the nurse to give you the form that will allow us to have Ricky retested, as long as you make sure his mother’s signature is on it, do you understand me?”

  “I don’t see that as being a problem.”

  “Good,” I say, and stand up to shake her hand. I notice there’s no ring on her left finger and I don’t like being too forward or presumptuous, so I simply ask, “Are you a widow or divorced?”

  “Neither,” she says. “He’s got Alzheimer’s. Not doing so well now.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. You might not want to let those folks down at SS know this. Do you work?”

  “I do. I was considering taking a short leave but I need the money more than ever. I’ll figure things out. I don’t have the same level of energy and patience I used to have, and Lord knows they need attention, and right now I’ll do whatever I have to do to prevent them from going into foster care.”

  “I understand. It’s like star
ting all over. Some grandparents don’t have it in them.”

  “I don’t have a choice. They didn’t ask for this life.”

  “Ain’t that the truth? I mean, well, just keep us apprised of how things go, when your status changes, and we’ll do our best to help Ricky.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Daniels.”

  “It’s Warren,” I say, and stand up and walk around the desk to open the door for her. “Your sons should be in their midthirties if memory serves me right?”

  “It’s serving you right, Warren.”

  “How are they doing?”

  “They’re both doing just fine. And thank you for asking.”

  “You’re quite welcome. And it’s so nice to see you after all these years. You look wonderful. Time is definitely on your side. Now, don’t be shy about calling should you have any problems or questions about any of this. Here’s my card. I’m here to help.”

  Social Worker

  Sorry to have kept you waiting so long. It’s a madhouse around here as you can see. Go ahead and have a seat while I review your preliminary chart, Mrs. Butler.”

  “You can call me Betty Jean.”

  “I prefer Mrs. Butler, if you don’t mind.”

  She nods. Why is it just because I’m black and female they think they can act like we’re automatically connected? We are not friends. This is my job. I work for the State of California, and I don’t want to be their friend. I can’t wait to hear this one’s story. After twenty-three years working in Child Services, I’ve heard it all. I glance up at Betty Jean. She’s dressed like she could have a credit card at a department store. Her daughter’s most likely a drug addict. Either crack or heroin. I’ll bet myself a chocolate chip cookie with walnuts it’s crack. She’s nowhere to be found. Or maybe comes and goes. Regardless, she’s probably out there on the streets, giving blowjobs to pay for her disgusting habit and Grandma here probably got tired of watching everybody she loves be destroyed and took the kids or her daughter abandoned them. From the looks of this one, I’ll bet a latte the daughter bailed. Betty here doesn’t look like a happy camper, but she also doesn’t look like she’s ready for what we call our “second shift.”