Slow Way Home

by Michael Morris

  “He must be abandoned. His mama was using him to shoplift for her. And she won’t tell us anything. Keeps screaming about suing.”

  The sound of a woman clucking with her tongue followed his words.

  “We had him downtown trying to figure out his name and so forth. And just like I told you about his mama, he won’t say a word. He just sits there rocking back and forth. And, oh yeah, he had that fit that they called you about.”

  The woman clucked with her tongue again. “We’ve got him scheduled for an examination.”

  While I was looking at the photo of a retarded man holding up a straw basket, dread swept over me. I had heard Nana and Poppy talk about this place. The home for feeble-minded they called it. A place shared as a joke whenever Poppy would forget where he put his glasses.

  That policeman was right. Everybody had abandoned me. Any person who cared a thing in the world for me was either in jail or in a state too far away. Sister Delores’s words were like a song you want to forget but just won’t go away. “God will never leave you or forsake you, Brandon.”

  Only then did the image of Jesus settle on my mind. The last time I had seen Him was outside of the duplex. When I looked over at the bulletin board, the bright words and sad pictures seemed to fade. Instead I saw a photo of Brother Bailey’s snake eyes looking down at me. The sun on the bulletin board was now a ball of fire just like the hell I knew I was facing. I had sinned right there at Woolworth’s. I had helped my mama steal in front of everybody.

  Abandoned. The word from the police report clung to me like mildew on the walls. “Jesus,” I moaned.

  The woman turned away from the bulletin board. “What did you say?”

  Sister Delores’s reassuring words kept clinging to me as if I had walked through a spider web. What if she was right? Maybe Jesus was out there somewhere waiting for me. The long hallway lined with big tall doors and topped with high ceilings seemed mazelike. A maze that hid the prize. Every sense of my being told me that the time at hand held my last hope.

  When I got up from the chair, the woman turned to me. “Dave, he’s talking. He’s talking and getting up.” Her fingers brushed the back of my shirt, and I moved faster towards the first door. The knob was sprinkled with rust and seemed weightless when I pulled it open. The smell of musky papers filled my senses, and I yelled louder than I had at Woolworth’s. “Jesus, I’m here. Help me.”

  I fought the policeman’s pull and then felt the arms of another on my back. Kicking, I bent backwards and slammed my head into the chin of the person behind me. Sounds of metal chairs screeched across the floor behind me. The man with porcupine hair had me pinned down on a table that was cold to my face. A prick on my arm made me think his hair had struck me. Soon the room began to spin, and my legs fell limp.

  There was nothing but white. White walls, white floors, and a single white toilet. Heaven, I first thought. Sitting up, I felt like I had been spinning around and around until I had gotten so light-headed I fell down. A door with a square piece of glass at the top was across from me. White nurse hats in different heights drifted past.

  Only the specks of dead bugs on the ceiling broke up the starkness of the place. Then the reality of where I was and what had happened at Woolworth’s slapped me back down. Fighting hard not to let the emptiness overtake me again, I turned my head towards the toilet.

  At first, the darkness of His feet made me jump. Scanning up, I saw the robe and then the outstretched arms. The familiarity of His face allowed me to breathe again. Jesus was standing right next to the toilet just as casually as He had the night outside of our duplex. When He smiled, I felt a vial of peace being poured into every part of my being. Sister Delores’s words once again sang in my mind. “God will never leave you or forsake you. The Lord will be your mama and daddy.” Sitting on that bed in front of Jesus, I felt a sense of place that I thought had been lost the day I left Abbeville. The urge to beg for help was far away, and all I wanted to do was to touch the hand that reached out. To see for once and for all if I was deserving of the feeble-minded hospital.

  Easing off of the bed, I stepped closer while the voices from God’s Hospital sang louder. “Come home. Come home. All who are weary come home.” The floor was cold to the touch, and the paper gown ballooned from my body. But it was His eyes that drew me closer, closer home. Eyes not colored the way they had been on the funeral fan back in Abbeville. They were colorless and filled with a love that drew me closer than my mama had ever been able to do. He was the one I wanted to grip and hold on to until He had taken me up in flight. We’d soar above the hospital, past the duplex, and above the marshes of Abbeville the same way the eagle soared to its nest. Each step became steadier, and just when I had reached the edge of the toilet, a popping sound from the door caused me to look away.

  “Oh, were you about to use the bathroom?” The woman began writing on a pad attached to a steel clipboard.

  I turned to look at the corner, but He had slipped away again.

  “Okay, Mr. Brandon Willard,” she said and rolled her eyes down at me. “Your mama broke down and told them your name.” She pulled a thermometer from her dress pocket and began fanning it back and forth. Her hair was pulled up in a bun, and a yellow pencil kept most of it in place.

  As I got my temperature taken, “regulation” she called it, I heard all about my schedule for that day and the nice doctor who would be checking me out. “He’s just as sweet as he can be. Just a little thing not much bigger than you. He’s from Taiwan. Just a regular genius. Except everybody thinks he’s from Vietnam, so that’s why he can’t get on at the bigger hospitals.”

  When I sat before the balding doctor with red-frame glasses, all he did was point at different cards. “What this?” he kept asking. All I saw were splats of black ink on cards that looked like they should have been used as flash cards for a spelling bee. My mind was still on Jesus. As we sat in the room with steel tables and humming lightbulbs, I kept my focus by looking around the room for another divine sign that help was on the way.

  It was not until the third day that my prayers were answered. It happened right after lunch and just before my afternoon dose of medicine. Through the glass I saw the white nurse’s cap and the gold turban. Standing before me were Nairobi, a pretty woman with long black hair, and a nurse holding a plastic bag. I couldn’t help myself, and before I knew it, I had my arms wrapped around the stiff material of Nairobi’s waist.

  “Well, now aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she said.

  “I need you to get me outta…”

  “The judge placed you into Foster Care, and that’s why we’re here. This is Millicent, your new social worker.” The young woman reached out to shake my hand, but all I could do was stand there frozen, wondering if they were only temporary visitors.

  “I expect you want to take off that dress you’re wearing.” Nairobi handed over the plastic bag with my clothes in it.

  While she waited outside, I changed clothes so fast that I almost tripped over my pants leg. Before I escaped, I made sure to look around the room one last time. Words that Sister Delores planted in my mind blasted louder than Mama’s stereo. “God will never leave you or forsake you.”

  Walking out to the car, I fought from asking about Mama, especially with the social worker standing right there. No telling what she had already heard about Mama. Besides, I knew Nairobi didn’t like Mama and was probably glad she was locked up. But she did like Nana and Poppy.

  “When will Nana and Poppy get outta jail?”

  “Two lawyers who do nothing but take on cases such as theirs are looking into the situation. We’re working on an appeal and…regardless, let’s just…”

  “Let’s just try to think about new beginnings,” Millicent added. She looked down and smiled in a way that made me think of my teacher back in Abbeville.

  “Where are y’all taking me?”

  Nairobi stopped just shy of her car. Moisture glistened on her broad nose, and I shaded my
eyes to get a better read of her expression. “You recall Senator Strickland. The woman we all met back when…” Nairobi glanced away and I saved her from having to dig up the details of our past right in front of Millicent.

  “The lady with hairlike daisies,” I said.

  They laughed at the same time, and I felt even freer.

  Millicent tapped my shoulder. “She’s one of your biggest fans. Senator Strickland just jumped at the chance to have you stay with her.”

  Nairobi cut her eyes towards Millicent. “Brandon, as soon as we learned what had happened, I wanted to take you in myself…”

  “But it was determined…” Millicent raised her eyebrows.

  “But it was determined,” Nairobi continued, “that it would be best if you stayed with another party. I contacted Senator Strickland and, well, that’s when she stepped forward.” Nairobi bent down towards me. Her long necklace of beads twirled around in circles. “I’m sharing these things so that you will know just how many people want you.”

  All the way to the new place, I held on to Nairobi’s words as tight as I’d hold a fistful of lightning bugs.

  Senator Strickland lived in a part of Raleigh that I thought only existed on TV. The cream-colored blocks of her tall house matched the suit she was wearing. She stood by a hedge cut into the shape of a golf ball. The brass lion’s head on the door looked down at her like he would scalp her yellow hair any minute.

  A woman with a black uniform that was filled out at every angle stood in the background wiping her hands on a dishrag.

  Nairobi and Millicent got out of the car at the same time, but all I could do was sit there and look at the fountain in the middle of the driveway. It was only when Nairobi opened the car door that I slinked out.

  “Hello, hello,” Senator Strickland said. “You remember me now, don’t you?” She batted her long eyelashes and bent down so low I could see a mole on her chest. When she hugged me, I felt a roll of fat clinging to the side of her skirt.

  Senator Strickland motioned towards the door and the woman wiping her hands stepped forward. “This is Esther. She’s been with me for, oh Lord, how long now, Esther?”

  “Since time began, I suppose.” Esther’s nasal words made me think she must’ve been swimming in the water fountain. Her chin pointed forward, and she sniffed when she spoke.

  Senator Strickland smiled big enough for both of them. “We’re just a little family. And we’re just pleased as punch to have you with us.”

  When we went inside, I remembered the day my school visited the governor’s mansion. Her house looked even bigger and caused my insides to tense up. I cautioned myself not to touch anything for fear of breaking it and being sent back to the torture of reading ink splashes. Crystal chandeliers sparkled as if they were Senator Strickland’s own private star collection. The front room was filled with white furniture, flowers, and paintings of Chinese people.

  “Welcome to my sanctuary. My sunroom,” she said. The sofa we sat on was covered with some kind of flower print. The material made her hair look so yellow that I figured she was supposed to be the sun part of the room.

  She scooted close and the sweet-smelling perfume helped to melt away the tension. “Now sweetheart, you just make yourself right at home. Now, I thought one thing that might make you feel better about all this is having you call me some pet name. You know a name of endearment. I got to thinking about it this morning and came up with one.” She opened her eyes so big I could see the red lines that zigzagged around blue circles. “Now before I tell you, I just want you to know that I don’t have any use for that Miss business. That’s a name fitting for old ladies, and I’m hardly old. Anyway, the name I came up with is Aunty Gina. Do you like it?”

  By the way she smiled and nodded her head all at the same time, I figured there were no other options. Besides, I was still trying to figure out why she thought she was young. Her hair was bright and the skin on her face was tight, but the brown spots and raised veins on her hands could have fit on Nana easy.

  She hugged me again and this time patted my head. “Oh, you and Aunty Gina are going to have the best time.”

  Walking through the stores with Aunty Gina was like walking in a parade. Every step we made there were people who knew her by name. And she never paid for a single thing. “Just put it on my account will be fine,” was her standard response.

  At Belk’s department store two salesladies tried to help me and Aunty Gina both at the same time. They fluttered around us like birds protecting their young. By the time we had stopped for lunch at the cafeteria, the boxes and bags we carried seemed fitting for a real-life Santa Claus. In the back of my mind, I kept wondering how this would all work. I decided I’d treat the shoes, shirts, and pants with the same extra care I was giving every other item in her house. If Nana and Poppy had to pay her back for my new clothes, we could just return everything to the stores in good condition.

  Between bites of chicken salad, Aunty Gina kept one eye on the people who walked by and one eye on me. Every chance she got, she pulled someone over and introduced me as her new son. After the third time, reading the facial expressions became a game. The eyes of the ladies would widen, and then they’d flash a glance towards me. Aunty Gina would wink at them, and then they’d nod. One lady with bright red hair that flipped up like permanent wings was particularly curious.

  “Brandon, this is one of my oldest friends, Mrs. Raymond McMasters.” Aunty Gina held on to the edge of the woman’s sleeve like she was a misbehaving child.

  “Nice to meet you, young man. Are you a nephew? Oh, is this one of Kenton’s boys? How are they?”

  “No, no, but Kenton’s fine. Brandon is my new son. He arrived yesterday.”

  Mrs. McMasters raised her drawn-on eyebrows to the edge of the red bangs. Her saggy eyes lifted for a second. “Oh, I see. Well, young man, you’re in fine company.” With a smile and a bat of the eye, she turned to Aunty Gina. “Now Gina, with motherhood and all, are you still able to meet for bridge next week.”

  “I’m still planning on it. That governor keeps talking about a special session, but I just hope to goodness he’ll come to his senses.”

  Mrs. McMasters returned to her table. Soon the other three ladies were turning around. They all smiled in that upside-down way that I hated.

  “My gracious, you’re already on your dessert. You’ve got to learn to slow down. Be kinder to your digestive system. By the looks of it, you like banana pudding as much as I do,” Aunty Gina said.

  “It’s pretty good, but I think my Nana makes…” Looking up at her, I tried to gauge whether mentioning the names of my real family was allowed.

  Aunty Gina patted my hand. “It’s hard to be separated from loved ones. My late husband, Preston, was my life for so long. But we have memories now don’t we?”

  I refused to let her think I was counting Nana and Poppy and even Mama for that matter as dead. “I’ve never had nobody in my family die.”

  “It leaves a hole in your heart, but somehow time really is the best medicine. And staying busy helps, of course. Right before Preston passed on, he talked to me about running for his seat in the state Senate.” She kept squeezing the napkin until it became a round circle.

  “He was a senator too?”

  “Oh, was he ever. The best you could know. The party had talked to him about running for governor and then came the cancer. That’s when I knew that if he wanted me to run, I had to do it. I didn’t have any use for politics, and between you and me I still don’t. But if Preston asked me to do anything, I did it.”

  The server appeared out of nowhere. When the ice and tea began to pour into Aunty Gina’s glass, she flinched.

  “Anyway, enough about such dreary subjects. Now, Mr. Brandon, I expect we need to find you a suit fitting for church.”

  Before we went to church the first time, I stood in front of the long mirror in my bedroom and wondered who I was. The bow tie had been tied by Esther, and my new black shoes shined to
the point of sparkling. It’s just like being a guest star on a TV show, I tried to convince myself. Even so, insecurity was my closest companion on that ride to church. Esther drove the big car while Aunty Gina sat in the passenger seat putting on lipstick. She kept chirping about how handsome I looked while fancy homes and big trees drifted by us.

  Looking up, I saw the eyes of judgment. Esther’s gray eyebrows and almond-shaped eyes were framed in the rearview mirror. For a second I thought she was about to ask me a question, but then her eyes darted away.

  When we arrived at the Episcopal church, I played the role and stayed right next to Aunty Gina. It gave her the opportunity to mother me with her introductions, and it gave me an excuse not to sit by Esther. During the service I looked around at the rows of balding heads and wide hats all the while wondering what Sister Delores would say about such a fancy place. I think she might have liked how everybody knelt down on the padded footrest and prayed. We got up and down so many times saying all kind of prayers that I wondered how women as old as Aunty Gina and Esther held out. I could just hear Nana, “All that bending is tearing my knees to pieces.” With my hands clasped and knees bent on the soft pad, I almost laughed right out loud. Then wondering what God would think about me laughing while I was supposed to be talking to Him, I bit my tongue.

  Opening one eye, I looked up at the minister who stood on a special little stage surrounded by winding stairs. A ray of purple light from the stained-glassed window streaked across his bald spot. An air conditioner caused his robe to sway in a way that made me think he could soar above us. He was a powerful giant, and all of the sudden I wanted to stand right up there with him. I’d wave to Aunty Gina and stick my tongue out at Esther. Probably tell her she might go to hell for staring at me all the time. Remembering how Sister Delores talked about Jesus telling people they should visit the prisons, I’d stand up there and ask everybody to help me set Nana and Poppy free. I might even tell them about Mama and ask for a special prayer. But before I could move, it was time to kneel back down and pray again.