For Black Girls Like Me: Part II

When the song starts we take turns singing and pretending we are the nuns. We shake our heads and act very concerned about all the mischief that Maria is causing in the abbey.

When I enter the rec room I beeline to the craft table and pull out my songbook to work on some lyrics that have been bouncing around in my head...

I never thought you’d say something so insensitive. You know that New Mexico used to be Mexico right? We don’t tease people because they speak another language.

This is a country of immigrants. We are not bigots.

They tell me all about Atlanta. How the light leans crooked off of rooftops at sunset how peach cobbler is supposed to taste.

The questions make an intricate web on the walls.

Your mama told me you looked like a prune when you were born. A shriveled black prune and that’s why she gave you away.

Huck Andrew Peterson
Age: 12
Hair: Black
Skin: Tan
Eyes: Light brown with flecks of gold
Muscles: Kinda

But Fireball is a rooster and he is the worst of them all. He is a miniature terror with mean eyes and feathers the color of burning embers and I secretly hope the wild dogs will eat him alive.

We put on thick jeans and big rubber galoshes and puffy winter coats for protection (even though it is July) and then for extra dramatics I strap on Papa’s racquetball goggles.

The two of us scramble around the yard arms outstretched trying to herd Fireball back into the pen or into a corner so that we can grab him by the plume as he squawks and bites.

“We’ve got this under control.” But she bites her lip and furrows her brow when she says this.

Not even Lena’s posts or thoughts of Huck or the feeling of the wind trailing its fingers on my back will make me feel better. So I thrash and thrash and thrash. And ache and ache and ache.

And I curse my body for being so difficult. For being a piece of crumbling char that does not know how to light itself.

We grab our purses and sunglasses and march out the door in a parade of excitement and I sit in the back seat of the minivan feeling just like Eliza Doolittle from My Fair Lady. Ready to make my public debut.

I fill my arms with puffed sleeves and velvet bodices and skirts dotted with sequins and head to the dressing room.

I fill my arms with puffed sleeves and velvet bodices and skirts dotted with sequins and head to the dressing room.

“Mama. Calm down. That lady is ignorant. Don’t get upset ok? We’re fine. Keda’s fine. Right?”

“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth.

Just outside of the city Mama turns down a dirt path and winds the van up a steep road.

Mama laughs. “Yes! There’s a loft above the main room with bunks. That’s where you’ll be sleeping. Last time you were too young to climb the ladder to the loft. You slept in the bedroom with me and Papa.”

And Eve and I spin and slide around the floor in our socks as fast and as gracefully as we can. Bumping into one another. Our tongues sticking out of the corners of our mouths in concentration. Until we are so dizzy and out of breath we fall to the ground giggling and panting as Mama gives us a standing ovation.

I pull out my flashlight and a flat speckled rock I found on our hike from under my pillow.

The cabin is dark and seems to quiver with the noise of Mama’s and Eve’s snoring.

Mama bounds inside and instantly starts pulling hand-dyed yarns and wooden needles off the shelves.

“My word it’s divine!” Mama’s eyes light up. “Girls. Come feel this.”

By the time Mama is finished she’s filled two additional baskets full of yarn and supplies and has picked us all an artisan crochet pouch to keep our needles in.

I know I can book some gigs if I just focus and practice. And also if I look good! No more sweatpants and frumpy shirts.

Mama doesn’t wait for an answer. She plops herself into a chair at the vanity station.

“Can you do all of us?” Mama says pointing to Eve and me standing bashfully in the doorway.

“But it’s not even tuned!” I protest. Motioning to the upright piano in the corner of the cabin that looks like it hasn’t been touched in a hundred years.

I set out down the dirt road and then veer off to the right into a thicket of spruce and aspen trees.

After Mama’s stomach was pumped and she was tucked away in her room in the psych ward. After Aunt Sarah filled out all the paperwork while Eve and I tried to eat grilled cheeses in the cafeteria. We were released into Aunt Sarah’s care until Papa could make it back to the States.

"EVE!" Papa bellows after her. “Get back here right now. You will not disrespect your aunt like that. Unbelievable.”

The plane shakes and dips a little as we climb over the mountains. I close my eyes and try to feel happy that we are all going home. But as the turbulence continues all I can feel is my gut flipping.