Take My Hand(14)

She shook her head ever so slightly. I’d done it again. Embarrassed myself and probably them, too. There were clothes all over that house, but they all appeared to be hand-me-downs. And not the good kind, neither. The moth-bitten, faded, worn-out kind. And since they weren’t doing laundry properly I knew anything I bought would end up on the floor with everything else.

“We’re going to Kmart and then I’m taking you to my house. You can take a bath in my tub and I’ll fix your hair. Feed you. How does that sound?”

Erica half smiled for the first time since I’d met her, and I could see that one of her teeth was brown. I would start by buying her a toothbrush, and once I found the social worker, I would find out if the girls had ever been to see a dentist. It was only a matter of time before their teeth decayed.

I steered the car into the parking lot and the girls leaped out. I peeked inside my purse. I’d stuck some money in the inside zipper that morning but hadn’t bothered to count it.

“Is you rich, Miss Civil?” Erica peered at me through the car window. India stayed off to the side, bouncing on one foot.

“No, course not,” I said, snapping my purse shut and getting out of the car. “Child, if I was rich I’d be hanging out with Billy Dee Williams.”

“Who?”

“You don’t know who Billy Dee Williams is?”

She shook her head as we walked into the white building. I’d decided on Kmart instead of Loveman’s over in the Normandale Shopping Center because the Kmart was newer. At almost one hundred thousand square feet, it was also the largest store in the city. Inside everything was white and clean, and the aisles were so wide they never got crowded. Overhead, rows of fluorescent lights lined the ceiling from one end to the other. Furniture, beauty products, electronics, toys, clothes, shoes, even a pharmacy. All under one roof. If a fairy with wings had appeared in that store, I don’t believe those girls would have been surprised.

“Alright.” I pointed to the red and white sign hanging from the ceiling that indicated the kids’ section. “Let’s start with underwear. Y’all got bras?” I hadn’t noticed either of them wearing one although Erica was well past being ready.

Instead of following me, Erica walked over to the food counter. I had eaten there once. Hot dogs. Nacho chips with cheese. India walked in the opposite direction toward a miniature horse carousel. She started vocalizing, a cross between a grunt and a cry. It was loud and startling. She slapped the metal horse’s flank.

“You want to ride it?”

I knew India could hear, but I wasn’t sure how much she comprehended.

“Girl, that thang too small for you,” Erica said, wandering back over to us.

“Climb on.” I put a quarter in the machine and India swung her leg over the horse. The lights came on, and out of the speakers came a staticky tinkle of music like an ice cream truck. The horse rose. India made a clicking noise in the back of her throat that was so loud people stopped and gaped. Some of the passersby steered clear of us and the girls’ body odor. I tried not to make eye contact with the strangers. When the ride finished, I put another quarter in and watched as India threw her head back. I added another quarter. And another, until I ran out. The more she squealed, the more people stared. I went to the customer service counter and asked for a dollar’s worth of quarters. Erica laughed at her sister’s delight, while I hoped no one said anything to me.

“Eeeee! Yee eeeeee!!”



* * *



? ? ?

AFTER WE FINISHED shopping, I took them back to my house. Although the policy didn’t speak on it, I knew it would be frowned upon if Mrs. Seager found out. I promised myself that I wasn’t going to do this ever again. I parked Mama’s car behind my Colt in the driveway and took the girls into the house through the side door.

As they walked through the kitchen, staring, I became painfully aware of every hiccup of mechanical noise. The buzzing fan of the window unit. The hum of the refrigerator. They didn’t say anything, but I watched them hungrily taking it all in. Mama kept all her curtains open. She hated darkness more than anything, so our one-story house was always full of daytime light. The girls looked around, their voices hushed, as if we had sneaked into a stranger’s house.

“This look like white folks’ house,” Erica declared when we were in my room. “You live here with your husband?”

“I don’t have a husband. I didn’t tell you that?”

She shook her head. I realized I hadn’t shared much about myself with them, though I knew so much about their family and background. Everything was lopsided. Volunteering their personal information was part of the bargain of public assistance. Tell us everything about yourself and, in return, we’ll hand you a sliver of a slice of American pie. In the meantime, we won’t tell you anything, not even what we’re going to do for you. Suddenly I didn’t feel so bad about bringing them home with me.

“I live here with my parents. I’m an only child.” I reached under my bed and took out a photo album. “Y’all sit here and take a look at this while I go draw the bathwater.”

I brought in one of the dining room chairs so they could both sit at my desk. It was the same desk where I’d studied for my high school exams, and when I looked back at the two of them sitting there poring through that album, something surged within me. I cannot explain it other than to say I was filled with determination. I would get them back in school. I would get them that apartment. I would do everything I could to help them.