Plenty Good Room Page 4

  Joan’s large diamond ring glittered in the office light as she opened the file folder that was lying on her desk. Then she looked up at Tamara, smiled quickly again, and said in an almost saccharine-sweet tone that she often affected when talking to the employees, “Now, Tamara, I just want you to know that I think you are one of our most valuable employees. You work so well with foster families, and your training and coordination of services have helped a number of them to keep their kids and not lose them to the system.”

  “Thank you, Joan,” said Tamara, but the woman’s uncharacteristic solicitousness made her more and more concerned about just what the real purpose of this impromptu meeting was.

  “I do have a small favor to ask of you, though,” said Joan. “As you know, as an agency we require all of our employees to take foster parent training so that if we are ever in an emergency situation, we can become the example for the community by helping kids who are without homes.”

  “Right,” Tamara said. “I’ve finished my classes, and I’m licensed at all three levels: Regular, Specialized, and Intensive Services.”

  “I am aware of that, and I think it is great that you showed the initiative to take all three classes—that was not required.” Joan smiled, actually showing her small, even teeth this time before adding, “That is truly going the extra mile, Tam, and you should pat yourself on the back for that.”

  Tamara’s own smile was bright and earnest then, since compliments that seemed genuine, like that one, were few and far between from her boss.

  “Thank you, Joan,” she replied gratefully.

  Joan’s face became serious again. “Now, Tam, I am calling on you to use the skills that you have been trained in. We have an emergency situation. We have tried many options, but right now they have not worked, and I’m turning to you for help because I truly believe you possess what it takes to do the job.”

  Her confidence high from the earlier praise, Tamara nodded her head, smiled again, and said, “Okay, Joan. I will do what I can to help out.”

  “Thank you, Tam. I knew I could count on you.”

  “You can, Joan.”

  Joan’s hazel eyes then locked on Tamara’s. “Here’s the rub, though. We have a child that we are unable to place right now. We know that because of the difficulties she has encountered in previous placements and because of her issues, we will have to select the next home for her in a very careful and measured way for it to be successful.”

  Tamara crossed her legs and smoothed her pant leg down with her hand. “That’s understandable. While I have worked more closely with the parents than with the youth who are placed in foster care, I do realize that many of the kids have lots of baggage, and it’s difficult for them to transition easily into homes.”

  “Exactly,” said Joan. You are one of two employees here who are trained at the Intensive level, and that is exactly the type of services that she will need; and we would like to place her with you—temporarily, of course.”

  Tamara began to think quickly, asking herself, What problems can one little girl present? Then, in her typical manner, she began to reassure herself mentally, I can do this. After all, it won’t be for long. Having made up her mind, she gave her boss a direct gaze and replied confidently, “Okay, Joan, I can accept a temporary placement, until you can find a permanent home for her.”

  “Oh, excellent, Tam! I knew we could count on you! You are well prepared to deal with her issues through your training. Tamara, you can have a tremendous impact on her with your professionalism and work ethic. Most importantly, you and the girl share cultural similarities. Like you, she is African-American—at least partly.”

  All of a sudden, Tamara got a strange feeling in her stomach. Could the placement be Sienna? “Partly?”

  “Yes, she is biracial.”

  Attempting to stay composed, she asked, “Just how old is this ‘little’ girl?”

  Joan opened the folder and put the glasses hanging around her neck on her nose before running one pink-manicured finger down the page and looking at Tamara over the reading spectacles. “I’ve seen her, and she is quite a petite little thing, but it says here she is fourteen.”

  Tamara’s lips tightened. She was getting the strong impression that she had been hoodwinked, bamboozled, and tricked. Still carefully hiding her rising emotions, she replied, “Oh, really; fourteen, huh? That’s not really a ‘little’ girl, now, is it?”

  Forcing a smile, Joan said, “Well, that is a matter of opinion, right, Tam? She’s such a tiny little thing, I actually thought that she was younger myself. But I tell you what, she is as cute as a button, too.”

  Now sure that her suspicion was correct, she asked, with more tension in her voice than she intended, “What’s her name, Joan?”

  “Sienna Larson.”

  Tamara had to use all her reserves at that moment to keep herself in check. “Sienna Larson?” Oh, my God, she thought, it is the girl! This had to be some sort of cruel joke. If Lynn was behind this, she would not forgive her this time for setting her up with the girl again. It’s simple, she surmised, I cannot do it, because I just cannot deal with her. The weekend’s events flickered through her mind rapidly.

  “Tamara? Is something the matter?” asked Joan as she looked with concern at the girl’s stricken expression.

  The sound of Joan’s voice cut through Tamara’s musings and brought her abruptly back to the present. “I’m fine, Joan. Fine.”

  “So, it’s all settled, right?” Joan asked as she dropped her glasses from her nose to let them land on her beige silk blouse.

  Hesitantly Tamara cleared her throat and asked, “And just why is it she can’t stay with a regular foster family, again?”

  Joan flashed her another quick, closed-mouth smile and said, “Well, from what I hear, her oppositional disorder makes her a bit difficult to get along with.” Dropping her voice to a whisper, she crinkled her nose as she added, “I think she can be a bit mouthy at times.”

  Before she could stop herself, Tamara replied in an incredulous tone, “A bit?”

  “Did you say something?” her boss asked.

  “Yes,” said Tamara, and before she knew what she had done, she heard herself say, “I said, I’ll do it.”

  “Good! Good!” said Joan. “I knew I could count on you!” She reached out her freckled hand to shake Tamara’s deep brown one. “We’ve got her in a short-term placement right now, and we should be able to give you about a week to prepare for her to move in.”

  Dazed now, Tamara stood up from her seat, turned from Joan’s bright, shiny smile that seemed to reveal all her teeth, and walked to the door. She turned the doorknob, stepped outside, and closed the door behind her. There she paused a moment, and as she began to walk to her cubicle, all she could do was say over and over, under her breath, “What did I do? What did I do?”

  6.

  Ridin’ Duo

  Jayson looked away from the road toward Tamara and, with the same incredulous tone in his voice, asked again, “Why, Tam? Why didn’t you just say no?”

  Tamara refused even to look at Jayson this time, though. Asking the same question over and over was not going to change what she’d already agreed to do, and besides, his repetitive inquiries were really beginning to annoy her. So, ignoring him totally, Tamara stared out the window, contentedly watching the colorful trees as she enjoyed the passing fall scenery while thinking quietly.

  The two of them had been asked, or rather required, by Joan to drop off some information to the State Agency. The implication by their boss had been that the fat manila envelope contained documents that she’d not known were to be included in an initial funding request she’d sent earlier in the week. They’d said nothing then, but later she and Jayson reasoned that the new director probably had forgotten some crucial part of the paperwork and just did not want to admit her mistake to them.

  Nonetheless, today was the deadline for the package to be in Springfield, and for very different reasons she and J
ayson were glad to be the couriers selected to drop it off.

  “Tam . . . Tam?”

  Shaken from her musings, Tamara whipped her head around. “What, Jayson? What?”

  “I don’t know why you are just trying to ignore me and what I’m saying to you. I’m only telling you what you already know. There’s no way that you could’ve wanted that smart-alecky, foulmouthed little girl to stay with you!”

  Tamara acquiesced reluctantly. “Okay, Jayson, you’re right. No, I did not want her to stay with me. And the truth is, I really don’t know if I’ll be able to deal with her. She is very angry,” Tamara added, recalling how the girl’s pretty features were distorted throughout the weekend by her ire.

  Jayson lifted his Kangol cap a bit, scratched the front of his head, and replied matter-of-factly, “You know, Tam, I’m old-school. In other words, when I grew up, whether I was angry or not did not matter. My parents didn’t care. See, my mama and daddy used to break me off a little piece, if you know what I mean, when I acted like a fool. The way you described how she was talking to y’all, it’s obvious that this little girl ain’t had no parenting. Ain’t nobody broke her off a piece, not no time lately anyway. Sounds like to me, this little girl is used to doing what she wants, saying what she wants, whenever she wants, and, sistah-girl, that’s gonna be rough for you!”

  Tamara agreed quietly, “You’re right, Jay. Sienna has been on her own quite a lot from what I’ve read in the information we do have on her. She’s lived more on her own than in a home with anyone. So, you see, there’s no way she could have gotten much ‘home training,’ as you say, because she’s never had a home.”

  Jayson’s concern shifted, and he asked, “But, Tam, what do you know about her really? Did they give you all of her information from her past placements? Did you get information about her early history?”

  Tamara replied calmly, “Jay, all I know is that she is a transfer case from the Chicago area. Joan had only a small amount of information, and she gave that to me, but much of her background documentation hasn’t come into the agency yet. Right now the agency’s and my knowledge is limited about Sienna’s past.”

  Jayson turned his gaze from the road just long enough to give her a quick but clearly worried glance. Whistling between his teeth, he asked, “Chicago? Whew! It can be rough in the Windy City, and if that girl has been on her own for any period of time, there’s no tellin’ what she’s been through there. Tamara, she could be violent or something.”

  “Oh, Jay, stop it! I’m sure she’s not a violent person.”

  His tone became even more serious, and he added, “For real, Tam, that girl could be an ax murderer or something. You don’t know what you’re getting into.” He stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “And anyway, are you sure that Lynnette didn’t have something to do with this? I love that girl, but you know how good she is at twisting folks around her little manicured pinky finger.”

  “I don’t think so, Jayson, and anyway, I can’t get out of it now—I’ve already said I’d do it.” Then, in a small voice, she added, “Plus, she might just need a chance, huh?”

  Jayson gave her a skeptical glance before drawling sarcastically, “Riiiight . . .”

  Glancing out the window, Tamara saw the sign indicating their exit. With one leather-gloved finger, she pointed to it and said, “Jayson, don’t miss the exit. It’s this one.”

  He twisted his lips, demonstrating his frustration while quickly pulling his car over into the exit ramp. “Now, see, Tam, I’m thinking about you and Little Miss Sienna so much that I’ve lost focus on what I’m supposed to be doing.”

  Tam patted Jayson’s arm awkwardly and said, “Don’t worry, Jay—it’ll be all right. Sienna will probably calm down once she’s been with me a while. I’m sure I just saw her at her worst the other day.”

  Quiet ensued in the car as Tamara watched the road and Jayson concentrated on maneuvering in and out of the early afternoon traffic. While Springfield was not an extremely large city, especially in comparison to urban areas like Chicago or St. Louis, traffic was typically congested during the day as commuters made their way to work from smaller towns.

  Tamara, no longer worried about her new housemate, was inwardly enmeshed in plotting a strategy that would allow her to use this unexpected trip to her advantage this afternoon. During the past year or so, Tamara had embarked on her own escapade of sorts, delving into the master state files and computer information data whenever she could manage on to these trips.

  “Jay-Jay?” she said innocently.

  “Huh, Tam?”

  Tamara gave Jayson a sideways glance from under her eyelashes. “You know, after we pick up the information packages and touch base with the area caseworker, I have a friend I need to do a favor for.”

  “A friend? I didn’t know you were from Springfield. I thought you were from Ohio or somewhere—and not Springfield, Ohio, either.”

  “Oh, I’m not from Springfield. I met this friend back when I was at college.”

  Jayson’s attention was immediately piqued now, since in his mind any female could be a potential love match for him. A friend of Tamara’s would be a good bet, too; since she was pretty, that made it a strong possibility that any acquaintance of hers would be fine, too.

  Jayson glanced at his friend, raised his eyebrows, and asked, “So, what’s your friend’s name?” With a smile he asked flirtatiously, “Does she know that you have a handsome, single, male coworker?”

  “Her name is Yvette,” Tamara replied, ignoring Jayson’s attempts to gain more information.

  He said the name aloud: “Yvette? Nice name . . . so what’s sistah girl look like?”

  Anxious about her afternoon plans, Tamara replied a bit snippily, “Must you always be concerned about how a girl looks, and whether you might get a date with her?”

  Tamara’s snappish reply was out of character for her, and Jayson gave his friend a quizzical glance before saying, “Okay, Tam. I apologize—it’s all good. I’ll keep myself busy for about an hour or two, ’cause I think that’s what you’re asking me to do, right?”

  Glad to have discouraged any more questioning from him, Tamara did not notice his curious gaze as she exhaled gratefully and replied, “Thank you, Jayson.”

  Now, she thought to herself, I’ve got at least an hour, maybe more, and if I work fast, I can make a lot of headway in that amount of time—I have to!

  7.

  Mission Accomplished

  It was ninety minutes later when Tamara finally settled in front of one of the data computers located in the back of the State Child Welfare building. Tamara glanced at her watch and, noting the time, thought disappointedly, only forty-five minutes—that’s all I have left. It had not taken long to drop off the envelope for their boss, but it seemed to have taken forever for her to lose Jayson. Still certain Tamara was holding out on him about this friend of hers, he’d seemed determined to stay with her until she told him exactly who the girl was.

  Out of desperation she finally said to him, “Jay, I need about an hour, remember?”

  Finally realizing Tamara wasn’t going to let him in on whatever secret he was certain she was hiding, Jayson dropped his shoulders dramatically and stuck his hands deep into his pockets before walking away, mumbling, “I guess I’ll go get some lunch.”

  Tamara’s adrenaline ran high now, for she had so much to accomplish in such a short time. With trembling hands she reached into her briefcase and pulled out the familiar manila folder, forcing herself to ignore her apprehensions and focus on the job at hand.

  “Yvette Bailey” was handwritten on the worn tab of the folder, and opening it, she quickly scanned through the loose pages of information she had painstakingly researched and gathered over time.

  “Sissie Bailey, today is the day that I’m gonna find you. I can just feel it,” she said under her breath while entering her state password ID and waiting impatiently for the computer to allow her access to the files. “Bingo,” she whis
pered when the large state logo appeared, indicating she was in the system. Tamara’s fingers flew across the keys as she began to retrace the now familiar data pathway that she knew would lead to the cluster of files she was searching for.

  Even though it seemed that only seconds had gone by since she’d sat down in front of the computer, glancing at her watch, Tamara was shocked to see that almost thirty minutes had passed already.

  “C’mon, c’mon . . . where are you, Sissie?” she asked as her eyes scanned the small print on the page, searching for that one name in particular.

  Finally spying the woman’s name, Tamara pressed the key and brought the woman’s background information file to the screen. “‘Celestine Bailey, also known as Sissie,’” she read aloud.

  Her eyes began to follow the words on the screen carefully as she read to herself:

  Celestine Bailey (aka) Sissie Bailey, has a long criminal history precipitated by her addiction to drugs. She is the mother of four girls, now ages 12, 11, 10, and 8. Repeated attempts on the part of the state to reunite the mother (Sissie) with her children have not proved effective to date.

  Silently, Tamara skimmed over several more pages of information documenting the various interventions, treatments, and services given to Sissie Bailey by the State of Illinois in an effort to keep her family intact.

  While not a drug user, Sissie has had a procession of men in and out of her home. Her pursuit of these relationships has resulted in the girls’ suffering from neglect and physical abuse. She has left them alone for hours at a time or with neighbors and near strangers.

  Unfortunately, the scenario she was reading about was not uncommon to her. In her role as a Stabilization worker, she had many clients who were parents who had neglected their children, leaving them alone in similar situations. Yet no matter how many times she came across this type of abuse, Tamara always asked herself the same questions, and she asked them again while reading about Sissie Bailey’s obvious neglect of her kids: Why would they have children if they did not want to care for them? How could they leave children alone? Her eyes swept over the information again as she wondered, didn’t Sissie realize that her children were not old enough to be left alone, or didn’t she even care?