The Sometimes Daughter Page 5

  8

  Daddy and I moved out of our little attic apartment and into Grandma and Grandpa’s house on Ohmer Avenue. It was directly across from the Missions Building, an old, vine-covered brick building that housed the denominational offices of the Disciples of Christ. Lots of my friends’ parents worked at the Missions Building. It seemed like half the kids in my class were ministers’ kids, PKs we called them. Daddy worked full-time at the guitar store and still took classes for law school at night, so Grandma took care of me most of the time.

  When I returned to School 57, my friends all asked where I had been. And for once, I didn’t lie. I told them about the farm and Liberty and Glen and Mama.

  “Your mama is crazy,” Carol said.

  I nodded mutely. I wasn’t sure if Mama was crazy, but it seemed best to agree.

  “It’s okay,” Lee Ann said, taking my hand. “We still like you.”

  And so another phase of life began—life without Mama. I missed her so much sometimes it took my breath away. Grandma loved me and fussed over me and fed me and read me stories. But she didn’t make brownies like Mama’s. And she didn’t get in the bathtub with me. And she didn’t read the stories using funny voices like Mama did. And every night I slept alone in my bed in the room Grandma had decorated for me with ballerinas and butterflies.

  One day in May, I sat at the table in Grandma’s kitchen, coloring with crayons while she cooked dinner. The doorbell rang and Grandma walked into the living room, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She opened the door and I heard Mama’s voice.

  “Anne, where is she? Where’s my Sweet Judy?”

  I ran to the living room, where Grandma stood blocking the doorway, her sturdy frame between Mama and me.

  “Mama!” I ran to her, but Grandma put her hand out to stop me. Holding me tight by the arm, she never looked away from Mama’s face.

  “Cassandra,” she said firmly, “you can’t be here. You can’t see Judy without a court order.”

  “Please, Anne!” Tears streamed down Mama’s face, her beautiful green eyes never leaving mine. “I have to see her. I have to! Please.”

  “I can’t let you in,” Grandma said, her voice quavering. I tore my eyes from Mama’s to look up at Grandma. I was surprised to see tears on her cheeks.

  “She’s mine,” Mama said softly. “She’s my baby. I have to see her. Please, Anne, just for a minute.”

  Grandma stepped back from the doorway and Mama rushed in, dropping to her knees and pulling me into a tight hug.

  “Oh, baby! Oh, my Sweet Judy. I have missed you. Oh, God, I’ve missed you so much.”

  I heard the door close behind us and the deadbolt latch. Over Mama’s head, I watched as Grandma moved cautiously toward the telephone, her eyes never leaving Mama.

  “You’re hugging too tight,” I said, squirming.

  Mama smiled then and plopped onto the floor, pulling me into her lap.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I’ve just missed you so much. Are you okay? Did you miss me, too?”

  I curled into her lap and nodded. “I missed you, Mama. I missed you so much. Why didn’t you come back?”

  “I’m here now, baby. And I promise I won’t ever leave you again.”

  Grandma’s voice was wavering on the phone. “Kirk, you need to come home. Cassie’s here.”

  Mama looked up at her with pleading eyes. “Anne, please. I need Judy with me. You can’t keep her away from me. You can’t.”

  Grandma moved in front of the door again, standing between Mama and escape.

  “You can’t take her, Cassie,” she said, her voice firm again. “You can see her here, but you can’t leave with her. I won’t let you.”

  We sat like that for a while, Mama and me on the floor. Grandma never left her post by the door.

  “How are you, baby? Are you okay? Is school okay? Are you sad without me?”

  I didn’t answer the barrage of questions, just clung to her, smelling her skin, feeling her tears drip onto my face.

  “I’m so sorry,” Mama crooned again and again. “Oh, Sweet Judy, I’m so sorry I let them take you away from me. But I’ll fix it. I promise I’ll fix it. I won’t let them keep you from me. I promise.”

  I heard tires crunching on the gravel driveway. A minute later, Daddy’s key was in the lock. He nearly shoved Grandma over as he burst into the room.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice was angry, his face grim.

  “I had to see her,” Mama said, holding me more tightly. “You can’t keep her away from me, Kirk. She’s my daughter.”

  Daddy stood staring down at her, his fists clenched, his eyes wide. He took several deep breaths.

  “Okay,” he said finally. “So you can visit with her here, for a little while. And then we’ll talk.... Not now,” he said, as Mama started to say something. “Not here. First you visit, then we’ll talk in private.”

  He dropped into the chair by the door and nodded at Grandma, who walked back into the kitchen.

  Mama held me in her lap and talked about the farm.

  “Everyone misses you,” she said, stroking my hair. “Liberty misses you a lot. She wants you to come back. And I want you back, baby. I’ve missed you so much. Don’t you want to come back to the farm with me?”

  I dropped my head, not wanting to see her tears. I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to say yes, that I would go back to the farm. My heart beat fast inside my chest. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Finally, I shook my head.

  “I don’t want to go to the farm,” I whispered. “I want you to come home and live with us.”

  “Oh, baby,” Mama said. “I can’t do that. This place, it was killing me.”

  “Stop, Cassie,” Daddy said. “Don’t do this to her.”

  “Damn it, Kirk!”

  Her voice, loud and sharp, startled me. I pulled away from her, staring from her to Daddy and back again.

  Immediately, she was shushing me, reaching for me. “I’m sorry, Judy. I didn’t mean to yell. It’s okay.”

  But it wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. I crawled to Daddy and held on to his leg.

  “I don’t want to go to the farm,” I repeated. “I want you to come home!”

  Mama sat in silence for a long minute, not even wiping away the tears that dripped from her chin. She stared at me sadly. I wavered, clinging to Daddy’s leg. I knew I could make her happy again. It would be so simple. But then I looked up at Daddy and saw he was crying, too. There was no way I could make them both happy. Daddy reached down to pull me into his lap as I began to sob, heaving so hard I shook all over.

  “I think you’d better go,” he said softly over my head.

  Mama rose and reached out to stroke my forehead. “It’s okay, baby. I promise you, Mama will make it okay.”

  She looked at Daddy, her mouth set in a straight, tight line.

  “This isn’t over,” she hissed. “I’m her mother. She belongs with me.”

  She kissed the top of my head. “I’ll be back, Sweet Judy. Don’t you worry, I’ll be back.”

  Then she left, slamming the door behind her.

  I sat in Daddy’s lap and cried for a long time, his arms tight around me.

  “Daddy?” I finally sputtered.

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  “I don’t want to go to the farm.”

  “Don’t worry, Judy. I won’t let that happen.”

  “Daddy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Make her come home, okay?”

  “I’m sorry, baby. I can’t do that. I can’t make her come back if she doesn’t want to.”

  I cried until my stomach hurt while Daddy held me and patted my back. After a while, Grandpa came home. He kissed my head and disappeared into the kitchen. Then Grandma appeared in the doorway. “Come on, now,” she said, smiling at me. “It’s time for dinner. I made spaghetti.”

  A few days later, sitting on the playground with Susan, Carol, and Lee Ann, I saw Mama, standing just outside the
fence, watching me. When she saw I was looking at her, she motioned me to come over. I sat still.

  “What’s wrong?” Susan asked. “You look sick.”

  “My mama is here,” I whispered.

  My friends looked over at Mama, who smiled brightly and waved. Then she walked around the fence and onto the playground.

  She came straight to where we four sat on the ground, stopping in front of me.

  “Hello, girls. I’m Sweet Judy’s mama.” She smiled down at them. Her eyes were glassy bright.

  Carol, Susan, and Lee Ann simply stared at her. Lee Ann reached over to take my hand.

  “Come on, Sweet Judy.” Mama reached her hand out to me. “I’m taking you home now.”

  “It’s not three o’clock,” I said, holding tight to Lee Ann.

  “I know, honey. But Grandma asked me to come get you early. We’re taking you out for ice cream.”

  She reached down to take my shoulder.

  “Mrs. Landon!” Carol was shouting. “Mrs. Landon, come here!”

  “Hush,” Mama spat at her, pulling me up. “Just hush now. This has nothing to do with you.”

  She held tight to my arm as Mrs. Landon walked swiftly toward us, panting slightly.

  “Hello,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I’m taking Judy home now.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Webster,” Mrs. Landon said, frowning. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “The hell you can’t!” Mama’s voice was sharp. “I’m her mother and I’m taking her home.”

  “Girls,” Mrs. Landon said, reaching for my hand. “You take Judy inside now. I need to speak with Mrs. Webster.”

  Carol, Susan, and Lee Ann rose. Lee Ann reached for my hand again and held it tightly. She pulled at me, but Mama held firm onto my shoulder.

  “Please, Mrs. Webster. You can’t do this. Let go of her.”

  By now, all the kids on the playground were watching us. Another teacher walked toward us, motioning for kids to move away.

  “You can’t keep her from me,” Mama was yelling now. “She’s my daughter. I am taking her home now!”

  From inside the school, the principal came running. He was a big man, balding and paunchy. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.

  “I am taking my daughter home right now!” Mama repeated, staring from him to Mrs. Landon.

  “I can’t let you do that,” the principal said firmly. He reached for her arm, the one clutching my shoulder.

  “Don’t you dare!” Mama shrieked. “Don’t you touch me, you fascist pig!”

  The principal took Mama firmly by the arm and pulled her away from me. When her grasp on my shoulder released, Lee Ann pulled me toward the school building, past the other kids who stood staring.

  “No!” I heard Mama screaming. “You can’t take her. She’s my daughter. She’s mine!”

  Mrs. Landon was behind us now, hurrying us back into the school building. We walked to the classroom, where she closed and locked the door behind us.

  “Are you all right, Judy?” She knelt beside me and pulled me into a hug. “Are you all right?”

  I shook so hard I thought I might fall over. Leaning into my teacher’s embrace, I let myself cry. Carol and Susan and Lee Ann simply stared.

  “She is crazy,” Carol whispered. And this time I knew she was right.

  After a little while, Daddy arrived. He spoke for a few minutes with Mrs. Landon and the principal, then took my hand and led me to the car.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie.” His voice sounded sad.

  “Is she crazy, Daddy?”

  “What?”

  “Is Mama crazy?”

  He stroked my hair and tilted my chin up so I had to look him in the eyes.

  “No, honey, your mama’s not crazy. But she is ... sick. I think she’s taking some medicine that makes her sick. That’s why she’s acting this way.”

  “But why does medicine make her sick? Why does she take it?”

  Daddy sighed deeply. “It’s complicated, honey. She feels like she has to take it, I guess.”

  He started the car’s engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

  “But I promise you, I will take care of you,” he said, glancing toward me. “I will keep you safe, Judy. I promise.”

  Over the next few weeks, I caught glimpses of her sometimes, standing across the street from Grandma’s house or following behind us as we walked to school. Once I saw her across from the school playground. I bent my head and pretended not to see her.

  I didn’t know then about the courtroom battles that were happening. Mama tried to convince a judge she was a good mother. Daddy and my grandparents argued she wasn’t. Mama’s friend Amy told the judge that I’d be better off with Daddy. Even Mama’s parents testified that Mama was unfit. I learned all about it later. I wondered then how Mama must have felt, hearing her husband and friend and parents talk about her like that.

  In the end, the judge said I should live with Daddy. He said Mama could have supervised visitation once a week. And so, once a week, Daddy drove me to a big building downtown, where we rode the elevator to the fourth floor and walked down a long hallway to a room filled with toys. There, Mama sat waiting. An older man with glasses sat silently by the door, paging through a magazine.

  Mama and I played with blocks and colored pictures. Sometimes she read to me. She asked lots of questions. She sang to me. And every week, she cried when it was time to go.

  “What does your grandma cook for your dinner?” she asked as we colored in a book.

  “Lots of things,” I said, concentrating on the red crayon in my hand. “Last night we had Hamburger Helper.”

  Mama made a strangled noise. I looked up, and her face was grim. “She’s poisoning you,” she spat. “Feeding you crap like that.”

  The man in the corner turned a page and cleared his throat. Mama glared in his direction.

  “Don’t you worry, Sweet Judy. When we get this all straightened out, I’ll cook you lentils and rice ... or stir-fry. Would you like that?” She looked anxiously into my face. Mama always seemed anxious in the little room.

  “I wish you would make bread,” I said.

  “Next week, I’ll bring you some bread. And I’ll bring some granola for you, too. You can take that back to Grandma’s to have for breakfast.”

  She hugged me too tightly. “It’s just for a little while, baby. Just till we get it all straightened out. Then we’ll go back to the farm.”

  The man in the corner cleared his throat again, glancing at us over the top of his magazine.

  “I don’t want to go to the farm,” I said softly.

  “Oh, baby, sure you do.” She stroked my hair. “Only next time, you can sleep in the house with me, just like we used to do. Would you like that?”

  I scribbled hard with the red crayon, making a mess of my picture.

  “And you can see Liberty again and play in the tree house.”

  I shook my head, refusing to look at her.

  “You’ll love it, baby. I promise you will.”

  “No!” My voice was loud in the small room. Mama sat back, startled.

  “No! I won’t love it. I want you to come home, Mama. When are you coming home?”

  The man in the corner put the magazine on a table and leaned forward, watching us.

  “Oh, Sweet Judy, I can’t come back,” Mama said, her eyes sparkling wet. “Your daddy won’t let me.”

  “I think that’s all for today,” the man in the corner said sharply, rising from his chair. “Come along, Judy. It’s time to go home now. You’ll see your mother next week.”

  “It’s not time,” Mama yelled. “I’ve still got ten minutes. No!” She screamed as the man reached for my hand. “No! You are not taking her yet. She’s mine!” She slapped the man squarely across the face.

  Deftly and silently, the man took her wrist. “Ma’am, you’re upsetting your child now. Don’t do this,” he said softly.

  I sat on the floor, shrinking into a corn
er, watching as Mama struggled against the man, crying and repeating, “She’s mine. She’s mine.” Then with her free hand, she dragged her fingernails down his cheek, leaving long red welts.

  At that, the man pulled her arm behind her back and held her tightly against him. She was shrieking now. “No! You can’t do this. I still have ten minutes. Take your hands off me, you Nazi!”

  The door to the room swung open and Daddy appeared, followed by another man in a policeman’s uniform. Daddy picked me up from where I crouched on the floor and carried me out of the room, down the long hallway, and into the elevator, shushing me softly while I cried. As the elevator doors closed, I could hear Mama still screaming.

  After that, I didn’t see Mama for a long time.

  PART 2

  LIFE WITH DADDY

  9

  In the spring of 1978, Daddy and I moved out of Grandma and Grandpa’s house and into our own house on University Avenue. Daddy had graduated from law school and was working as a public defender. The house was just a block from Grandma’s, and I still walked to her house every day after school and stayed until Daddy got home from work.

  I liked the new house. It was two stories, with a big front porch and lots of trees in the yard. Daddy had hung a swing from one of the trees, and in the summer we were going to build a tree house out back.

  Lee Ann’s family lived just up the block, and we played records on her record player, drew chalk pictures on the sidewalk, and sometimes rode our bikes to the fountain at Audubon Circle. Some nights I slept at Lee Ann’s house. Her mother made spaghetti and meatballs or tuna noodle casserole. Some nights Lee Ann slept at my house, and Daddy ordered pizza or brought home Chinese food.

  Irvington was a tightly knit community, like a small town surrounded by the city of Indianapolis. Tree-lined streets curved past Victorian houses and post-war bungalows. There were lots of churches and just one bar, a dingy-looking place on Washington Street next to the ten-cent store. People tended not to lock their doors during the day, even when they weren’t home. I could ride my bike to the grocery or the movie theater, the park or the library.

  I was happy in our new house and happy that we had stayed in Irvington, close to Grandma and Grandpa. Some of my friends had moved away after the city of Indianapolis desegregated its public schools. Our lily white grade school was now home to black kids, too. Some kids were afraid of the newcomers, but I remembered Derrick and the birthday bike, so I wasn’t afraid. Daddy said it was about time the schools were integrated. Sometimes he argued about it with Carol’s father, before Carol’s family moved out of town. Lee Ann’s dad thought integration was a good thing, too. He had served in the army in Vietnam with lots of black soldiers. So Lee Ann and I tried to be nice to the new kids. One new girl in our class, Vernita Combs, was especially nice. She was small and quiet, wore glasses, and loved to read. She quickly came to fill the hole left in our group after Carol left.