“I’m taking you to a facility for distressed teens that is on 114th and Western Avenue,” Maggie said, interrupting my thoughts. I didn’t want to say anything to her because I didn’t like her.
“Has anyone explained to you what has happened?” she asked. I wanted to answer her by saying, “Duh, no one has said a damn word to me,” but I didn’t. I just gave her the silent treatment.
“Okay, I’ll take that as a no answer.” She made a right turn and then continued. “There is no easy way to put it so I’m just going to tell you like it is. A few days ago, your mother was arrested as part of a police sting to clean up prostitution in poor neighborhoods. When she was picked up, she had illegal drugs in her possession.” I could feel her looking at me, but I continued to look out the window at people who were waiting on the bus. For a brief moment I wondered where they were going, but Maggie continued talking.
“When Justine realized that she wouldn’t be getting out anytime soon, she notified the officials at the jailhouse and informed them of you and your situation. Once it was determined that she was telling the truth, your case was assigned to me. If you allow me to help, we can work together on finding you a good foster home.”
I felt as if I’d been kicked in the chest by a horse when she said the words, foster home. I never thought I’d end up living in a foster or group home for teens at risk.
“The group home I’m taking you to can be as comforting as you make it. You’ll be staying with other teenage girls in a dorm-room setting. You’ll be under constant supervision by the adult staff members. The facility works on trying to create an atmosphere of family so that everyone feels comfortable.”
“How long do I have to stay there?” I asked with a nasty attitude. I didn’t like the sound of the place she was taking me to one bit.
“Well, I’m not sure. I still have to speak with your mother about contacting your father.”
“She doesn’t know who he is,” I said to her. “It could be any one. I could pass him on the street every day and never know it.” I paused in thought. “You know her dumb ass is pregnant, don’t you?” I tossed out the question because I wanted her to know that my mother suddenly meant very little to me. I had a very low opinion of her. If I saw her on the street, I’d turn and walk the other way. I wouldn’t even acknowledge her.
“Yes. I am aware of the pregnancy. That case has been assigned to me, as well.” I didn’t say anything else because I was attempting to calm my nerves. I couldn’t stop my hand from slapping my knee like a superball bouncing around recklessly. Maggie made a left turn and I noticed that we were going past a bookstore. I would have loved to stop so that I could get a few books to get lost in but I knew that wasn’t an option.
“I’m going to be reaching out to a man who may be your biological father,” Maggie continued. “She’s given me the name of a man who she thinks is your dad.”
“Well, how come she’s never told me who he is?” I asked.
“Well, according to her, she didn’t have a strong sense of who he was until recently. Her friend Simon helped her to narrow down the possibilities.”
“Oh, God, please don’t tell me I’m related to him.”
“I don’t know. We’ll have to see if this man is willing to be tested. He may refuse testing or deny any type of relationship with your mother.” I got so angry that I started slapping the dashboard of the car like I’d gone mad. My emotions were out of control. Maggie didn’t say anything. I suppose she was used to sudden emotional outbursts.
“So if this dude takes the test and realizes he’s my father then what?” I asked. “Do I get to go live in his castle and live happily ever after?”
“If he does agree to be tested and he learns that you’re his child, I’m sure it would have an impact on his life,” Maggie said.
“What if I don’t want to go with him? What if he’s some creep who’s just as messed up as my mother? Then what?”
“Well, we’d never put you in a situation where you’re in danger of being harmed. If your biological father has a criminal record or is unable to care for you, then you’d be able to remain at the group home until you turn eighteen years old. At that point, you’d be free to go forward and live your life.”
“It sounds like a real jacked-up deal,” I said as I wiped a tear from my eye. I was trying not to cry.
Maggie pulled into a gas station and turned off the car. She repositioned herself to look directly at me. I refused to make eye contact with her. I continued to look out the window at people who were walking by.
“If you’re thinking about running away from the group home let me give you a few things to consider. The streets are very cold at night. You wouldn’t know where you’d be sleeping or where your next meal would come from. You run the risk of being attacked or taken advantage of by people who don’t have your best interests in mind. All I’m trying to do is help you. If the situation with your biological father doesn’t end with ‘happily ever after’ then you still have the option of finishing your education and even going to college. Hang in there, get your education so that you can locate a good job and support yourself. You seem like a very nice girl who has been dealt a very bad hand, and I’d hate to see you crumble apart. Your situation is bad but I’ve seen worse,” Maggie explained. I still didn’t say anything to her.
“Look. All I’m asking is that you stay at the group home if things don’t work out for the best.”
“It doesn’t matter. If this guy is anything like my mother, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me,” I said sarcastically. “I don’t care what happens to me anymore.”
“Be positive, Keysha. Perhaps he will care once he’s made aware of your situation.” I finally turned and looked her directly in the eyes.
“No one has ever cared about me or loved me, with the exception of my Grandmother Rubylee, who is in jail. I might as well step in front of a bus and kill myself.”
“Well, since you feel that way, maybe I shouldn’t bother trying to contact this man,” Maggie said as she started the motor back up and continued on.
We finally stopped in front of the group home, which was a brown brick bungalow-style structure. The screen door had black burglar bars on it, and the wooden banisters on the front porch needed to be repainted. The brushes around the property were overgrown, and the grass had been completely neglected. All the way at the top of the structure I noticed three small windows, which I assumed was the attic.
Maggie pressed the latch for the trunk and was about to get out of the car when I stopped her by speaking up.
“Contact him,” I said. “Maybe fairy tales do come true.”
“Okay,” said Maggie.
eight
Maggie took me inside the group home and up to the attic, which had been converted to office space for the adult supervisors. I sat in a chair beside a desk and awaited further instructions. There was one girl who was about my age who was standing at the file cabinet filing. When she saw me she stopped working and glared at me.
“Why don’t you take a picture, it lasts longer,” I snapped at her. She continued to study me for a moment longer before continuing on with her work. It was noisy in the office. Old-fashioned typewriters were dinging, drawers were constantly being opened and closed and the phone rang constantly. The desks and equipment up there were very old and appeared to be secondhand. The metal desks and filing cabinets were all pea green. The setup reminded me of a police station. The floor plan was wide open, and you could see exactly what everyone was doing.
“Come sit over here,” Maggie said, directing me to another desk. “Once I get you processed, we’ll go over some general rules and then I’ll give