by Fauna Hodel
“I know, and I’ll miss her,” Jimmie slurred.
Dolly stepped back to look at her sister, quickly noticing the glassy red eyes and the slight stagger. Before she could say anything, her brother Willie advanced toward Fauna with a big smile and a warm, enthusiastic greeting. “I can’t believe how much you growed up, and into such a beauty. My, my, you is something else to look at. A pleasure!”
Jimmie got in his face, “I knew you’d say hello to the white bitch before your own kind,” Jimmie’s anger silenced the room. “That’s the way you are—always trying to act high sadity in front of an audience.”
“What?!” said Uncle Willie. “Don’t be givin’ me a hard time; I ain’t seen either of you in years. Can’t I say hello to my niece without you acting jealous of your own daughter?”
“Jealous?” Jimmie shot back. “Of who? Her? Ha! That’s a laugh. I’m still the prettiest one in the whole family and you know it, too!”
“Pretty, shit!” said Willie. “You nothin’ but an old drunk . . .”
Aunt Dolly forced her way between her siblings. “Hold on!” she said. “Stop trying to disgrace the whole family in front of all these people. Ain’t you got no shame? Your sister ain’t even cold and you both fightin’ like you was a couple of six-year-olds!”
It didn’t end there, but Fauna made her way out of the room, not wanting to be associated with either one of them. She was in no mood to listen to a scene that had repeated itself hundreds of times in the past. That no longer upset her; Fauna learned to bury her embarrassment. In spite of the strong emotional grip of the affair at hand, Fauna kept reviewing her conversation with her grandfather.
She was forced back into reality when a familiar voice interrupted her privacy. “Hey, Pat, it’s good you could be here.”
Without hesitation, Fauna put her arms around him. “Johnny, I’m so sorry about your momma, she was like a second mother to me. And you, you’re like a brother. I feel so sad and I know how bad you must feel. I’m sorry.” Tears filled her eyes.
“Thank you, sister,” he responded coarsely by pulling her too close so that her breast was crushed against him. Fauna pushed away and noticed his eyes, half-closed, reddened, and glassy. His gaze was blank, a look with which she was familiar.
She felt uncomfortable as his eyes peered lustfully at her breast.
“Pat,” Aunt Dolly interrupted without warning, “please do me a favor. We need for someone to go run an errand. Would you please go to the corner store for me?”
Fauna was relieved, “Oh, sure.”
The evening air, crisp and cool, was a refreshing change from the smoke-filled house. After taking a few deep breaths while standing on the top step, Fauna noticed a car parked across the street with someone hunched down in the driver’s seat. She stepped down to the sidewalk and saw that he was a white man, highly unusual in this neighborhood. Fauna wondered if perhaps it was her grandfather, wanting to get a glimpse of her before he decided to introduce himself. But on second glance, the man was too young to be anyone’s grandfather and certainly not distinguished enough to be what she imagined.
Going to the store in the black neighborhood was an event for her. She was always self-conscious among the residents. At times like this, she wished she could pin her birth certificate to her forehead. Although she was nervous, she acted indifferent, as if she belonged there. Fauna reflected on her real family, and wondered when George would call, or perhaps he had already. Through all the confusion, perhaps Dolly or Johnny had forgotten to mention it. She made a mental note to ask them as soon as she got back. And poor Johnny, why was he acting so strangely? But these questions would take a back seat to more important matters, particularly George. Meeting him would be the highlight of her young life, and the anticipation was exhilarating. He would be the one to provide all the information about her real mother and answer those questions that plagued her from the beginning.
Fauna wondered what he looked like. She wondered if she bore much resemblance to him, or, more to the point, did she look like the faceless woman of her dreams? But still, there should be something physical that bound them together?! It must be the eyes!
From hearing his refined voice over the phone, Fauna expected him to be at least six feet tall and slightly balding with glasses. Anyone as smart as her grandfather must do a lot of reading. His image remained with her when she returned to the house. At the top of the steps, Fauna turned and noticed that the car with the white man was gone. She brought in the bag of ice and milk for Dolly. “I meant to ask you before,” she asked, “did anyone call for me or leave a message?”
“No, I don’t think so,” said her aunt. “Were you expecting Bobby to call?”
“Oh no, not him. Well yes, him, too. But I was really expecting my grandfather, George, to call me.”
‘Your what?” Dolly asked.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you? I’ve been in contact with my grandfather, George Hodel. He’s a doctor. In fact, he’s coming to meet me here, in LA.”
Fauna told her the entire story about how she had contacted her grandfather. Dolly stared, holding the bag of ice.
“I didn’t know you knew anything about him,” said Dolly. “Jimmie Lee always kept it hush-hush.”
“Momma didn’t tell me much either. I did everything on my own. She’s been telling me that someday she’s gonna give me the whole story, but every time I ask . . .” she paused and shrugged her shoulders.
The next few days Fauna shuttled between the funeral parlor, the house, and the church. Twice she spotted the same car with the white driver sitting in a slouched position and thought it merely curious.
Two days passed without a call from George. On the third day, Fauna ignored his warning and called Marion in a final effort before going home to Reno. He answered the telephone on the fourth ring.
“No, no, I don’t know anything,” his slurred speech was slow.
“What’s wrong Marion? You sound frightened,” she asked.
“Leave me alone. I can’t talk to you. Don’t call here anymore.” And then Fauna heard the dial tone.
She sat down at the end of the couch and put her hands over her ears and gently squeezed her head as if she could force an explanation for his peculiar behavior. But all she came up with was more questions.
She slouched back into the couch, discouraged that as close as she was to finding out who her family was and where she came from, the answers were still beyond her reach. How could anyone do this? How could George be so callous and unfeeling as to let me sit and wonder without even attempting contact? He must understand how important this is and how long I’ve waited. How can they abandon me for the second time in my life? Maybe Jimmie was right; maybe these whiteys didn’t care much for me even though one of them was my grandfather. Her heart was broken, filled with anger.
Bobby began working full-time as an apprentice painting cars at the auto body shop. There was no room for advancement, but he liked what he was doing and the money was adequate. After work, he’d come home to eat, then spend most of his evenings with his friends, gambling at one of the casinos. For a time his luck held steady and he managed to save a bit of money. He was free to do as he pleased. But they were not as close as they once were.
Their life together lacked the excitement she expected. Slowly, she began to drift away. Her aspirations were not compatible with his and she was restless to move on. Her heart was buried in disappointment and gloom over not having heard from George.
The hospital, however, was a far different world. Fauna immersed herself in work, becoming more proficient and undertaking responsibility. She received training as a keypunch operator and later was promoted to work in the mainframe computer department. The pay increase was small, but the training by a bona fide tech person gave her more prestige than anything else up to that point in her life. With the promotion came responsibility and confidence.
As much as she wanted to be free of Jimmie and her meddling style, Fauna’s own comp
lacent nature was easy fodder for Jimmie’s guileful manipulation. Fauna wanted to create an environment that would ease Jimmie’s pain—a comfortable home, a new car, enough money to eliminate the pressures of poverty. And a complete medical examination to free her momma from alcohol addition, a disease which was taking its toll on her frail and aging body. But as the months passed, Fauna knew that Jimmie was getting worse. She coughed up blood and had violent tremors, which were first misdiagnosed as her unruly temper.
“Momma, you’ve got to let Homer take you to the doctors,” Fauna said, “Cause whatever this is, it ain’t right.”
“Never mind that. These doctors only tell me the same thing—it’s a cough I got for years,” Jimmie said. “What do you know about it anyway?” Jimmie turned in the kitchen chair and raised her hand to shoo her daughter away. “Jus’ cause you work in that hospital don’t mean you know nothing. You know even less since you’re with that knucklehead you call a husband.” Jimmie began coughing, “He ain’t getting you nowhere, just feeding off you.”
Fauna reached into the kitchen cabinet and grabbed a glass for water.
“Don’t use those glasses, they for my company.” Jimmie said.
“What company?” Fauna asked.
“Never you mind what company. If you were a right child, you’d know what company.”
“I’m sorry Momma. I can’t help it if I look white, but I know I’m half-black. You think I like having this white skin?” Fauna’s head dropped as she leaned on the sink. She whispered, “I know part of this is my fault for. . . .”
Jimmie interrupted, “I tell what’s a right child, one who respects they momma, that’s a right child, and one who stays with they momma when she needs them the most.” Jimmie started coughing again.
After weeks of urging, Fauna finally forced her momma to the hospital for a checkup to determine the extent and cause of her bleeding. Jimmie protested as they entered Washoe Medical Center.
“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with me,” said Jimmie. “All I got is the flu. A little rest in bed and some aspirin’ll clear that.”
“Aspirin won’t do anything. And you don’t got no flu,” Fauna replied.
“This blood thing,” said Jimmie, “is because I’m worried ’bout you—livin’ with that good-fo’-nothin’ lazy nigger.”
“He ain’t lazy! You always say that. Bobby works very hard.”
Jimmie got louder, “What’s gonna become of you? I wanted the best for you. You should of married that doctor at the hospital who’s been after you for all this time. He’d be the right one! No! Not you. You pick some fool who ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
“Momma, lower your voice. Everyone’s staring at us.”
“Let ’em stare,” rasped Jimmie, her voice rising up to a shout. “They probably never saw no white nigger-lover like you before.”
“Momma, please,” urged Fauna, “You’re embarrassing me . . . again.”
“And you’re making me sick! You’re the cause of this whole thing. It ain’t the drinking. I know what’s wrong with me! I don’t need no doctor to poke and pry and pinch and stick stuff down my throat! It’s you living with that dumb bastard!”
“Momma! Please!” They finally reached the examination room, where the nurse made Fauna wait outside. Jimmie shouted and cursed at Fauna for dragging her to the hospital, insisting that she had the flu.
Fauna sat in a nearby waiting room for more than two hours, watching the nurse and doctor go in and out of the examining room, at first without expression, then with exasperated looks. Fauna suspected Jimmie of giving them a hard time. Finally, a young, pudgy doctor came out and approached her.
“Mrs. Ward?” His voice was high-pitched. “I’m Doctor Edwards. Your mother—she is your mother, right?” He looked at her with a mystified expression.
“Yeah, she adopted me when I was a baby.”
“Well, she’s very ill. We need to do some tests to determine exactly how far the disease has spread and if there is a chance to slow down the progression. She’ll need to be hospitalized.”
“Hospitalized! For how long?”
“A week. Perhaps two. Does she have medical insurance?”
“Insurance? No! Of course not, Momma don’t believe in insurance. Besides, she can’t afford it even if she did. How much is it gonna cost?”
“I’m afraid quite a bit. But if there is no coverage, then I’m afraid there’s not much they can do as far as the testing is concerned. We’ll have to treat her as an outpatient. I’m afraid her chances aren’t very good.”
“Oh, no,” Fauna began to cry, “You can’t let nothing happen to her. She’s my mother. You gotta do something.”
“I’m going to keep her here for a day or two. By the time the hospital finds out about her not having coverage, maybe you’ll be able to raise some money to take care of her bill. I’ll do what I can.”
He walked away leaving her emotions racing in a circle. Fauna didn’t know what to do, but she couldn’t let Jimmie die. She went to the lady’s room to wash her face and dry her swelling eyes. She couldn’t let her Momma see her crying. That would tip her off that it was serious, and who knows what she would do then.
“The doctor said you gotta stay here for a few days,” Fauna told Jimmie. “They need to do some tests.”
“Yeah, I know all about it. That nice young doctor told me—said I gotta stop drinkin’ or it’s gonna kill me.”
“They all told you that for years. Now maybe that you heard it from someone who knows, you’ll stop. Now, you don’t have a choice in the matter.”
“I know it,” said Jimmie, “They ain’t gonna keep me here very long, once they find out I ain’t got no money for these tests.”
“It ain’t right,” said Fauna, “You gotta have those tests. I don’t understand why they just don’t do ’em. Why does it always have to be money? Don’t they care?” Fauna felt her eyes fill up again and turned away from Jimmie, making an excuse why she had to leave so abruptly. “I’ll be back later. And don’t worry, everything will work out.”
Fauna drove to her momma’s home and stayed just long enough to pick up some of her momma’s personal items, praying all the way. She returned to the hospital to find that her momma had been moved into a ward with ten other impoverished patients. She looked tired and frail. She told Fauna they had given her a pill and said no more. Within moments, her momma’s expressionless eyes closed slowly and she went off into a gentle sleep.
Fauna stayed with her for what seemed like hours, contemplating how limited her options were, and praying to God for His guidance and intervention, offering her own soul if it would do any good.
The medicinal odors emanating throughout the ward irritated Fauna. She made her way into the chapel, knelt at a pew in prayer, and stayed there for hours, until her knees became raw. She was forced to put pads over the bruises. Fauna believed that God wanted something in return for the miracle she was asking; aching knees were all she had to offer.
She left the chapel and wandered about the hospital halls, slightly disoriented. She stumbled upon the hospital offices and noticed a door ajar with the title “Administrator” painted on it. Without a second thought, as though the hand of God had guided her there, Fauna walked in and sat down at one of the two leather chairs opposite the desk. She had no plan in mind, nor did she know what she was going to say, but somehow this is where she had to be.
Before Fauna had a chance to make any cohesive plan, a middle-aged man in a western-style shirt and cowboy boots walked in and said rather coarsely, “Who are you?”
Introducing herself, she explained that she was employed at St. Mary’s Hospital in the accounting department.
“So?”
The conversation went downhill from there. Fauna explained her mother’s case and their financial situation and asked for help.
“There is nothing I can do,” the man told her as he picked up a phone call and turned away from her in dismissal. “The hospital has a ver
y strict policy concerning indigent patients.”
Her next call was to the Welfare Office. They politely informed her that what the hospital said was correct. Fauna was desperate and alone. She needed someone to help her—someone like her real mother, who she knew would understand and perhaps find a way. . . . perhaps through George. George! That was it! Suddenly, Fauna was full of enthusiasm. He would help. How could he refuse his long lost granddaughter!
Fauna checked on Jimmie to see if everything was all right. She was still asleep in the same position. Fauna hurried home to find the address that Marion had given her in Tokyo. Fauna thought about writing him to plead her case as strongly as possible, but realized that mail would take too long. And there was little time, according to the doctor. To expedite matters, she sent a telegram. It was more of a complaint about the manner in which her momma was being treated than a plea for help. Fauna didn’t know if he would even get the telegram, much less respond. But it was worth a try. Perhaps he had a way of providing an insurance policy or exercising some loophole in the state laws that would provide for momma. After all, he was a doctor and should know more about it.
The next few days were hectic. Fauna was trying to take care of her household while also spending as much time as possible at the hospital with Jimmie,who was anything but an ideal patient. Even in her weakened condition she abused the nurses, offering advice where it wasn’t needed or even wanted, and in general, causing a ruckus in the ward. The doctor then kept her sedated.
On the fourth morning, Fauna walked to the ward where her momma had been staying, and found her bed empty. She rushed to the nurse’s station just as the administrator stepped off the elevator.
“Oh, Mrs. Ward, I’m so glad I found you,” he said, “I tried to call you this morning, but there was no answer.”