If You Find Me(10)

Mrs. Haskell’s index finger skims over a shiny plastic placard; then she picks up a rectangular thing—she calls it a “remote control”— pushes a button, and the television crackles to life. She pushes a few more buttons, and the screen flickers with images, coming to rest on a channel with the word sprout popping up at the bottom right-hand corner. Fat creatures with antennas on their heads giggle and waddle across a flowery field studded with bunnies.

Before I can control it, my eyes fill. Teletubbies. The jolt from the past is like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. I remember the Tubbies. The fuzzy memory of a red Po doll fills my mind.

Jenessa’s eyes widen until the whites show. Her bones turn to noodles and she sinks to the rug, only breaking contact with the screen to beam at me in amazement before locking back on the box on the wall.

Mrs. Haskell and I look at each other, her eyes bright. She clears her throat. I turn back to my sister.

“It’s television, Ness. TV, for short. You like it?”

As if communicating from a dream, Nessa nods big, sweeping nods from ceiling to floor while her eyes remain glued to the screen.

“Lift up your foot, okay?”

I untie and remove each sneaker, leaving her wiggling her toes.

“Ewwww,” I tease. “Stink stank stunk, Miss Jenessa.”

She giggles.

I unbutton her coat, smiling at the light pink T-shirt with the word Diva painted across it in silvery, glittery script. When I asked Mama what the word meant, she’d shrugged her shoulders, too high to reply. Ness loved the sparkles too much to care.

“Now your pants.”

I expect her to protest, in front of Mrs. Haskell and all, but she doesn’t, too mesmerized by the giggling Teletubbies making messy Tubby custard.

I lay her clothes neatly over one of the chairs, and take her in, my heart loving her so much, it could explode all over the room. Those blond curls, the knobby knees, the wonder on her face, the girlie white underwear boasting ruffles around the leg holes. Even as skinny as she is, she’s a vision.

I make a vow right then and there that I’ll allow no one to separate us. Whatever I have to endure with the man, I’ll endure, as long as we stay together.

I reach down and scoop her up in my arms and settle her on the bed against two fluffy pillows. Mrs. Haskell turns the television angle to one Nessa can watch without straining. This is her first experience of a bed, and a sigh escapes her lips. It’s the height of luxury for both of us.

“You can borrow this, if you’d like,” Mrs. Haskell offers, nodding that it’s all right to take it, her eyes bobcat large and blinking through the thick glasses she pushes up her nose.

For the first time, I notice Mrs. Haskell’s little suitcase, plucked from her trunk. She tosses me the T-shirt and I catch it, light purple, with the word Chicago stamped across the chest in curving script.

I know Chicago. It’s in Illinois, USA.

“Did you used to live there?” I ask by way of thanks.

“I’ve heard Chicago is lovely, but I’ve never been. It’s a musical group I listened to in college.”

I brush past her into the bathroom to change. I’ve never heard of that Chicago. The only music I know comes from my violin. My stomach clenches as I think about it—about all the things I don’t know, a mile-long list I’m sure will only grow longer as the days pass.

I reappear from the bathroom with my sneakers and clothes in hand, the T-shirt hanging to my knees. I watch Mrs. Haskell smile as Nessa giggles, her little-girl hands reaching toward the cooing baby’s face in the middle of the sun setting over the Teletubbies’ world, just before lines of names roll down the screen.

Nessa pops her thumb in her mouth, her eyelids heavy. I climb in beside her, sliding the blankets out from under her legs to set them billowing over us in a cloud. She moves her leg over until it’s touching mine.

Neither of us can stay awake long enough to eat, but even better than food is how the white-star night flickers and dies like it doesn’t belong here, in the midst of such largess. I imagine being free of it forever, of the sights, sounds, and smells seared into my memory.

But deep down, I know better.

I don’t want to wake up from this dream I’m having, of a feather-soft bed, fluffy covers, and Nessa not half on top of me, the two of us crammed onto the narrow cot where we shared our body heat each night. The fit was easy when she was a baby. But babies never stay babies.

I hear his voice and instantly remember who he is, what happened, where we are. The man and Mrs. Haskell talk quietly. I inhale the strange aroma, note the trails of steam rising from white cups they both sip from at the table, a jumble of papers spread out between them.

“So, we go before the judge at noon, and then what?”

“We submit the paperwork to the court, and the judge releases the girls into your custody. It should be a short hearing, all told.”

“And then they come home with me.”

“Right. We’ll need to get them evaluated by a pediatrician, a court-appointed psychologist, and test them academically, so we know where we’re at. We’ll need them enrolled in school as soon as possible. I feel the longer we wait, the harder it’ll be. As their social worker, I’ll be here for support throughout the process.”

Through slits, I watch the man rake his fingers through his hair. Mrs. Haskell smiles, unruffled. Even I know we have mountains ahead of us.