Plenty Good Room Page 2

  With a slight raising of her eyebrows, Tamara wordlessly slid to the side of the doorway while gesturing with one hand for them to come inside. “Housepitality?” she mouthed to Lynnette as the young girl came forward.

  “Go ’head, Miss Thang,” said Lynnette to the girl, who then rolled her eyes at both of them, turned her head dramatically, and sauntered into the house. Once inside, she ignored them and immediately began to check out Tamara’s house thoroughly. Turning, Lynnette stared at Tamara meaningfully, shook her head, and then breathed out heavily through flared nostrils.

  Stepping close to Tamara, she said in a low voice, “She’s my new case—just got dropped off tonight . . . runaway.”

  She had already figured that the young girl was a new case of Lynnette’s, since she knew that field agents sometimes had children placed temporarily with them until a more permanent home with a foster family could be located. These kids had usually just been removed from their families’ homes or were runaways and had been brought in by the police, which could explain the young girl’s foul mood.

  Tamara closed the door, and together she and Lynnette watched the girl as she slowly proceeded through the house, stopping at tables to pick up small knickknacks, examine them carefully, and then, with a twist of her lips, put them back down. Finally, when she seemed to have finished scrutinizing Tamara’s home, she walked over to the couch and, with a loud plop, sat down hard.

  It was only then that she noticed the two women looking at her. “What y’all looking at? Y’all act like you ain’t never seen a person befo!” she said haughtily. Then she closed her eyes for a long moment and rolled her neck. Clearly angry, she propped her head up on one hand, and with a deep scowl on her young features, she avoided their gaze.

  Lynnette looked at Tamara and rolled her eyes, made a face, and then said with feigned sweetness, “Sienna, honey, this is Tamara. Remember, I told you about her.”

  The girl turned her glare to Tamara and looked her slowly up and down from her head to her feet and back again. “So? I don’t care nothin’ ’bout no Tamara.”

  Lynnette made another face and, ignoring the girl’s rude comment, continued cheerfully, “Tamara, this is Miss Sienna Larson.”

  Tamara said nothing as she really looked at the young girl closely for the first time. To have such a bad attitude, the girl was actually a pretty little thing, small-boned and petite, with reddish, naturally curly hair that was pulled into a tight, curly ponytail high on her head. A spattering of freckles covered her nose and cheekbones. Long black eyelashes framed her small, dark eyes that turned upward on the ends, and her small pink lips were bud-shaped but tightly drawn in anger.

  Noticing Tamara’s curious stare, the girl snapped, “Look, I don’t know who you think you lookin’ at, but I am not the one!”

  Surprised by the girl’s unexpected anger, Tamara turned away quickly and silently but gave Lynnette a long, questioning glance.

  Seething now and unable to hold her temper any longer with the teen, Lynnette, who was not short on sassiness herself, held one hand up to Tamara as if to forestall her comment and said angrily, “Girl, I don’t care where you been and who did what to you, but you do not talk to grown folks like this. I have had all I’m gonna take of your smart mouth tonight! Now, what you do is sit there and shut your mouth while I talk with Tamara in the kitchen.”

  The teen’s face reddened, and she appeared ready to retaliate verbally, but then wisely she seemed to reckon within herself that Lynnette was in no mood to be trifled with. Through turned-up lips she made the loud clicking noise with her tongue again, and then mumbled under her breath as she set her head in her hand hard and turned her eyes away from the two of them.

  “Come on, Tamara, let’s go talk where we can have some privacy,” Lynnette said as she gently pulled her coworker by the arm toward the kitchen. It frustrated her that her coworker was not more assertive in standing her ground when people disrespected her or made her angry. Actually, sometimes Lynnette thought it was a little strange that Tamara was so reserved all the time. It wasn’t as if Tamara was actually afraid, but instead it was almost as if she were powerless to respond when people pushed her around, as the girl was doing. Not me, Lynnette thought spiritedly. I’m not taking any crap from anybody!

  After one more furtive glance over her shoulder at the young girl perched petulantly on her couch, Tamara sighed and followed her friend into the kitchen.

  Lynnette was already seated at the table in Tamara’s small kitchen area, with a bright smile plastered on her face. Helpfully pulling out the chair next to her and patting the seat with her hand, she said to Tamara in a voice laced with sweetness, “C’mon, girl, sit down. I know you tired, and I know that it’s late and I woke you up. I’m so sorry.”

  Tamara glanced at her coworker skeptically now. During the several years they had worked together, she’d grown to know Lynnette well, and she was aware that once that sugary tone was in her voice, she wanted something. By now she’d seen her use that tactic enough times on other people to recognize it for the manipulative strategy that it was. In fact, it was becoming clearer by the moment that tonight Lynnette wanted a favor from her. Thinking about the pouty-faced young girl sitting on her couch in her living room, she was quite certain Lynnette’s request was going to be something that she did not want to do.

  Lynnette raised one French-manicured finger to push her microbraided hair away from her face as she fixed her wide-eyed stare on Tamara. She batted her eyes dramatically several times before speaking, another clear indicator to Tamara that she was about to ask for something. She said breathlessly, “Now, Tam, girl, I know that you are wondering why I came here this late at night and stuff.”

  Tamara shook her head in mute agreement, with her eyes locked on her friend’s. As she noticed Lynnette’s attire, it began to dawn on her that her friend was quite overdressed for the errand of accompanying this young girl. In fact, it did appear to her that Lynnette had been out on the town, perhaps on a date or maybe even “shaking her booty” somewhere.

  Now quite sure that Lynnette wanted something, Tamara was ready to dispense with this preliminary buttering-up tactic and get to the point. In a low, firm tone she asked, “Lynn, what is it? Is there something you need from me? Please, Lynn, tell me what you want!”

  Lynnette seemed to realize then that Tamara was growing impatient with her delaying tactics, and breathed out heavily, saying in a rush, “Okay, Tamara, I’m gonna stop beating around the bush . . . here’s the deal. You know how it is. As a field caseworker, I’ve got to find a placement when a child comes to me in an emergency, like Miss Sienna out there—or I have to keep her with me.”

  “Right . . .”

  “Well, they dropped little Miss Thang off tonight, and I have plans that I’m in the middle of, and, girl, these plans might continue into tomorrow, if you know what I mean.” Her large eyes seemed even wider than usual as she pleaded with her friend and coworker for understanding. “Tam, I just can’t have her with me this weekend.”

  Tamara asked with a small smile,“You have a date, huh?”

  Lynnette batted her eyes and shook her head energetically. “Yeah, girl. Actually I was in the middle of a date when I got beeped, and it’s been a long time—well, maybe not that long, but a sistah got to have some male companionship now and again, if you know what I mean.”

  Tamara knew what she meant, and although she wasn’t sure that it was true, she still tried to understand Lynnette’s perspective.

  Lynnette kept her wide-eyed stare steadily fixed on Tamara as she added quickly in a low tone, “So, I was wondering if she could stay with you, just till tomorrow, and then I promise I’ll come get her and work on finding her a placement.”

  “Lynn, I don’t know,” said Tamara hesitantly as she thought once again about the young girl’s foul demeanor. “She’s a little wild, it seems, and she appears to dislike me.”

  Lynnette threw her hand out in a dismissive gesture and said
, “Girl, that child don’t like nobody.” She snickered as she continued, “She’s a little hellcat, and her mouth should be declared a lethal weapon—that’s why she can’t keep a placement. She’s snappin’ and cussin’ out folks and stuff. Believe me, Tam, what she said here is mild compared with some of the stuff she’s said at other folks’ houses. It’s going to be a challenge to place her, I know. I’m sorry I can’t tell you much else about her, ’cause I don’t have all the paperwork; but I do know that she’s not violent or anything like that.”

  Tamara sat and quietly looked down at her hands. “I didn’t think she was violent or anything. It’s just . . . oh, Lynn, I’m ashamed to say, I don’t know if I can handle someone so ‘outspoken,’ even for a day or two.”

  Lynnette reached over and squeezed Tamara’s hand gently. “C’mon, Tam, you really gotta stop letting everyone run over you. In fact, I think Sienna will be good for you, because eventually, girl, she’ll make you so mad, you will have to say something back,” she said with a chuckle.

  Tamara’s heart was beating really fast, and she did not want to do this favor for Lynnette, but instead of saying no as she wanted, she acquiesced, albeit reluctantly, responding hesitantly, “O-okay, Lynn, but you need to leave me a number where I can get in touch with you—j-just in case.”

  Lynnette rose from the table quickly, obviously preparing to make a hasty escape before her friend could change her mind. She smoothed down the jacket of the close-fitting deep turquoise knit pantsuit she wore, and her silver bracelets jangled jauntily as she waved her hand at her friend and said, “Girl, no problem. Just call my cell or beeper—you got the numbers—and if she acts up, girl, I promise you I’ll drop whatever I’m doing and come get her.”

  Tamara rose slowly from the table and followed her friend into the hallway. She was relieved to see that Sienna had laid her head on the arm of the couch and now slept deeply, her small chest rising and falling rhythmically.

  “See, girl, she’s tired, and she’ll probably sleep late tomorrow, too. She’s been running the streets for days now, so the child probably ain’t had no rest. Shoot, I bet she’ll sleep all day, and you won’t have to deal with her very much at all,” Lynnette added as she made her way toward the front door.

  “We’ll be okay, I’m sure,” said Tamara, although she certainly did not feel the confidence that her comment suggested.

  Lynnette’s eyes were on Tamara’s as she said, “C’mere, girl,” and hugged her close. “Thank you, Tam, I can always count on you. You are the sweetest person I know, and I will pay you back for this one day soon.”

  Tamara said shyly, “That’s okay; we’ve worked together a long time, haven’t we?” and opened the door for Lynnette.

  Lynnette tossed her hair over her shoulder and replied, “Yeah, girl, and you are really a friend, ’cause you’ve been there for me a million times.”

  Tamara opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Lynnette’s back was to her and the woman was off, leaving the night air fragrant with her Elizabeth Arden Splendor perfume.

  Tamara watched her walk away, then sighed loudly, closed the door quietly, and locked it. For a moment she stood there, unmoving, her back stiff against the door, and then, with another small sigh, she padded quickly down the hallway. Moments later, she returned to the living room with some extra bedding, gently laid the young girl’s head on a pillow, then covered her with a blanket.

  She walked over to the recliner. Covering herself with another blanket, she lay listening to the young girl’s quiet breathing until she fell asleep.

  3.

  Rude Awakening

  “Dang! Don’t you have nothin’ in this house to eat?”

  Tamara opened her eyes and sat up with a start, catching herself just before she fell out of the easy chair, where she’d spent the night. Sleepily she attempted to shake the grogginess away, and when she found herself gazing into the almond-eyed stare of her new temporary roommate, the events from the previous evening flooded back to her.

  “I’m hungry and you don’t have nothin’ in your kitchen to eat,” the girl repeated even more loudly, this time in a tone laced with rudeness.

  Although not fully awake yet, Tamara got up from the chair and walked into the kitchen. She reached up into the cabinet over the refrigerator, took out three boxes of cold cereal, and put them on the counter. Next she opened the fridge, removed the gallon container of milk, and placed it on the table.

  By rote she began to follow her morning routine: she scooped coffee into a new filter and, after pouring in enough water for her daily allotment of caffeine, turned on the pot to brew. Then, without looking at the young girl even once, she left the kitchen area, went into the bathroom, and closed the door behind her.

  Tamara walked over to the shower, pulled the curtain closed, and started the water. She shed her clothes and entered the shower, where she stood very still for blissful seconds, letting the briskness of the welcoming, warm spray wash over her. Finally feeling fully awakened by the steady stream, she washed, and then stepped out of the shower. After drying herself, she tied a large towel around her so that it covered her like a bright pink terry cloth sarong.

  With a face towel she wiped off the steamy mirror and then stood thinking as she watched her reflection. She was surprised that although several minutes had passed, her heart was still beating fast from this morning’s rude awakening by the girl. Just thinking of Sienna’s unpleasant words again, her breathing became shallow and she felt much more uncomfortable than she had in a long, long time.

  Calm down, Tamara, she told herself. She’s only a little girl. Don’t let her get to you.

  There in front of the large bathroom mirror, she stared unseeingly into her own upturned dark eyes as she attempted to relax herself. Her rich coffee-brown skin was smooth, and her face, though a bit wide, was offset with high cheekbones that provided it with balance. She had an almost pertly small nose, a full mouth with small white teeth, and deep dimples that appeared in her cheeks when she smiled. A gold, shiny silk scarf that she wore during the night covered her finely textured hair, which was cut stylishly short. With one hand she slipped the scarf from her head and, still watching her reflection, absentmindedly began to use her slim fingertips to push her hair into its regular style.

  Thankfully Tamara noticed that her heart was not beating quite as fast now. In her head she began to will herself calm, repeating the mantra she used to compose herself whenever she was upset: everything is going to be just fine, Tam . . . everything is going to be just fine. Inhaling once more deeply, she felt relaxed again and continued her morning grooming, brushing her teeth next before washing her face and applying a thick, creamy moisturizer to her skin.

  Without warning, a loud knocking shook the bathroom door and too quickly interrupted her moments of silence.

  The girl yelled into the closed door, “I hate to tell you, but that milk you took out ain’t no good! Shoot! I guess you tryin’ to poison me or somethin’, huh?”

  Tamara rolled her eyes but kept her irritation to herself as she said, her own voice oversweet now, “Could you please wait and talk to me when I get out of the bathroom? You know, it is not polite to bother people when they are using the bathroom.”

  There was a momentary silence, and then to her relief the girl replied, “Well, excu-u-use, me!” But just when Tamara thought she was gone, the girl added spitefully, “I’m leavin’, but your stupid milk still is rotten!”

  “I cannot believe her!” Tamara said aloud in a voice brittle with anger. “Who does she think she is, talking to people like that?” Her dark eyes were flashing with annoyance now, something else out of the norm for her. In fact, this entire situation with this girl is making me feel totally off-balance, she thought before flinching in pain and saying peevishly, “Ow!” Distractedly thinking about the girl, she’d wiped off the moisturizer a bit too briskly with the cotton pad, scraping the tender skin on her face.

  Tamara was irritated that
she was feeling reccurring discomfort following each unpleasant interaction with the girl. But still she was unable to stifle her frustration with the teen and continued her one-woman discourse, chattering to herself angrily in a low voice, “Why, I bet she’s not even ninety pounds wet, and she’s talking like she’s a grown woman or something.” Lifting her head, Tamara suddenly caught sight of her angry reflection in the mirror, and feeling ashamed at her obvious loss of control, she willed herself quiet. In an instant she was silent. During the next few minutes of stillness, her heightened emotions subsided, and once again feeling composed, she opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

  “Dang! It’s about time! What was you doing in there anyway?” the young girl said as she looked her up and down from where she stood leaning against the wall, with one tiny hand placed on her small hip.

  Tamara glared at her without speaking, then walked past her into the kitchen. Picking up the container of milk, she twisted off the cap and wrinkled her nose when she smelled the foul odor that came from the plastic jug.

  “Empty it into the sink, please,” she said to the teen, who was now standing next to her.

  The young girl looked at her incredulously. “Are you talkin’ to me? I’m not throwin’ nothin’ away. I didn’t come to your house to work. You the one supposed to be workin’ here, takin’ care of me!”

  Tamara’s jaw dropped, and her calm demeanor evaporated so quickly that without even thinking, she almost retorted, but something inside caused her to bite her tongue and say nothing. She clamped her jaw so tightly it hurt as she emptied the rancid milk down the drain, opened the refrigerator door, and peered inside, searching for food.

  Seated at the table behind her now, the girl talked loudly. “Anyway, I was just minding my own business last night and somebody had to go call the police. I told them I was eighteen, but for some reason they didn’t believe me.”