Finding Someplace (10 page)

“Okay, Reesie.” Eritrea smiled. “It's been real. I'm gonna wait around here for Dr
é
to show up.”

She reached out to squeeze Reesie's clenched hands and leaned closer. “Take it from a sister: don't hold this stuff in for too long. You got nothing to beat yourself up about. Promise you'll find somebody to let it all out with, okay?”

Find somebody? Who? Find someplace. Where? Home wasn't even home anymore. Reesie didn't answer.

Daddy got in and started the engine. Reesie looked back and saw Eritrea's skinny figure getting farther and farther away. She was still waving with both hands. Reesie felt odd and lonely—she'd just met Tree, but she missed her already.

Daddy began talking like they were already in the middle of a conversation. Reesie knew he was doing it to cover her unusual silence.

“So, your mama and some of the other nurses left the hospital with the first set of patients they evacuated. She's at a motel in Lafayette. Last I heard from her, you were at Miss Simon's. I've been trying to get back to the Ninth Ward, but I keep getting sent all over. It's chaos everywhere! I'm downtown, where we're supposed to be securing the Quarter, and I get word this morning that Andr
é
Knight is telling every uniform he sees that he's looking for
me
. I figure his only connection is Orlando, and from Orlando to
you
, so I follow up. The trail leads me here.”

He glanced at her. “That Eritrea—says she's his wife now?”

Reesie nodded.

“And she tells me y'all have been through it. But you're good. Are you?”

“I don't know.… Yes, I guess so. Yes.” Reesie knew her police officer daddy might not be satisfied with the way she answered, but it was all she could give.

“Well.” He only paused a minute before continuing his one-sided conversation.

“Listen. New Orleans is in bad shape. Between the wind damage and the flooding, it's the worst I've ever seen. I have to admit, your mama was right after all. We weren't ready. Half the force is AWOL. Communications are out. It's a zoo here, yeah! I'm gonna drop you off by your mama and head back. We gotta contain this madness till we get some help from the Feds.”

“You're not coming?”

Her father glanced at her. “Can't,” he said.

Reesie didn't understand. Why wasn't he joining them so they could be together? Was it her college fund again?

“Okay,” Reesie said, too tired to argue. She pretended to sleep, but her brain kept replaying jumbled pictures of floating trees and dark water, angles of sunlight across a scraggly beard and ugly face. She didn't want sounds, but they came as well, until the voices from her father's radio blocked them out. There were police calls for rescues, fires, looting. One young-sounding cop with a shaky voice said he found a dead body inside a submerged car. Daddy flicked the radio off.

“What about Parraine and Tee Charmaine?” Reesie hoped her own voice would overpower the one she'd just heard.

“He got turned around and went back home. They got spotty phone service over there. All of New Orleans is without power, phones.… It's a bona fide disaster.”

“I hope Miss Martine is all right.”

“Miss Simon? What happened?”

“I'm not sure. We made it to her roof, and some people took us to the bridge, and … and she got sick. The medics from the National Guard took her away.”

They pulled off the highway, and Reesie saw that the shoulder was lined on both sides with stopped and stalled vehicles. Eighteen-wheelers were parked between SUVs. Although some seemed abandoned, people were sitting in and outside of others, apparently camping out because they had nowhere else to go.

“Here we are,” Daddy said. He pulled up behind two marked police cars.

Reesie saw her mother right away, pacing in the circular driveway in front of the motel entrance. Her shoulders were hunched and her hands were shoved deep into the pockets of the same pink uniform she must have worn when she left the house a lifetime ago.

“Oh my God! Reesie!” She ran up to the Humvee, beating on the hood as Daddy shifted into park. “Come here! Oh!” She touched Reesie's cheeks and proceeded to unbuckle the seat belt herself.

“Let her breathe, Jeannie! Let her breathe!” Daddy said.

“Are you all right?”

Reesie was unexpectedly overwhelmed, and tears rushed out again before she could find her words. Her mother stepped back with one hand over her mouth.

“What? What is it?” Mama asked. “Lloyd?” Her mother looked up at Daddy.

He tipped his head to the side, the way he did when he wanted to have a side conversation, but Mama ignored him, turning to Reesie again.

“Teresa, what is it?” she demanded.

Reesie opened her mouth, but her tongue was so dry that it stuck, and she could only clear her throat.

“She went through some stuff,” her father offered.

Mama's eyebrows rose, and she spun on Daddy. “
Stuff?
My child went through
stuff
. Just what does that mean?”

She scanned Reesie from head to toe, looking for signs that might give her the answers no one was willing to share. She fingered Reesie's ripped sleeve, and her lips trembled. Reesie looked down at her right arm and saw a red bruise, just the width of a man's hand, beginning to darken on her skin.

“Lloyd…” Mama's voice dropped.

Reesie said quietly, “I'm really okay, Mama. I—I got mugged. That's all.” Her mother looked at her suspiciously, then spun angrily.

“This is
your
fault!” her mother burst out, and Reesie jumped, shaking all over, before realizing that of course, those words weren't directed at her. They were meant for her father.

“What? Jeannie…”

“Look at her! She's traumatized! She should never have been in harm's way!”

“Jeannie, nobody knew—”

“
You're
supposed to know!” her mother shouted. “Oh, Lloyd, if we'd left town, this would never have happened! If you had retired from the force two years ago, you wouldn't be running to that job! If you weren't so obstinate about the house—”

“Wait, now!” Daddy was losing his cool. “You just never really understood about the house, Jeannie!”

“Like
I
don't know what it is to give up family?”

Daddy dropped his head. Even Reesie thought that was a low blow. “Oh, Jeannie…,” he muttered.

People had come out to stare at them. Reesie could see the veins in her father's temples pulsing; her mother was stomping her feet on the asphalt. Reesie wanted to stop them, but she didn't know how.

“Then let's go!” Mama said. “Let's go right now. I want Reesie somewhere safe.”

“I want Reesie safe too! But I can't leave, Jeannie!”

Reesie's mother stopped ranting. “You can't? Or you
won't
?” Tears sprang up in her eyes.

Reesie looked at her father and saw hurt and surprise in his eyes. She wanted to yell herself,
Stop! Please! It's not either of your faults!
But she couldn't.

“Don't make me do this, Jeannie.”

Mama's voice dropped to a whisper. It was a frightening whisper.

“Why can't you walk away? You've given twenty years. I don't have a hospital anymore. We don't have a house anymore. By the grace of God, we still have our daughter. Katrina has taken almost everything I have, Lloyd. I'm not staying here.”

Daddy's shoulders slumped, and for the first time ever Reesie heard his voice shake.

“Jeannie, please.”

“You're making this decision, not me,” Mama said, but her tone wasn't as angry as it had been. She sounded disappointed. Sad.

“Reesie and I will be on the first flight I can get to New Jersey. I'll let Junior know.” Mama turned away quickly, walking toward the motel.

Reesie reluctantly took two steps to follow, then ran back to hug her father. He held her tight. So tight.

 

P
ART
T
HREE

Staying Strong

 

Chapter Sixteen

D
ECEMBER 20, 2005

“Miss Boone. I would love to add another new piece of technology to my collection,” the sarcastic voice said from the front of the classroom. “Bring it.”

Reesie was more angry than embarrassed as she took her time getting up from her desk. She'd only been shutting her new cell phone off. And it was clear that this Mr. Worthy had it in for her anyway. Every time she'd opened her mouth in his class, he had that smirk on his face like she couldn't speak English or something.

One of the other kids had told her that it wasn't her New Orleans accent, really—that he was just mean—but she didn't believe it. She eased out from her chair, and low-level whispers and a few snickers followed her to the front of the room.

Nothing had gone quite right in the three months since she'd come to Montclair, New Jersey. Sure, this middle school was pretty cool, and it was actually fun living with her aunt, uncle, and little cousins. Jazz, the six-year-old, even called Reesie her “big sister.” But her father was still in New Orleans, her mother was still barely speaking to him, Junior was in college, and their home had drowned along with everything they owned.

Sometimes, like now, she wanted to scream to the world,
Do you know what I'm dealing with?
But that seemed so unlike her real Reesie self. Sometimes, like now, she didn't even know if that Reesie existed anymore. So she went through the motions.

Worthy gave her his famous withering stare when she made eye contact with him at his desk. Annoyed, she dropped her phone with a clatter, just out of reach of his open hand. She knew he would take points off her already low algebra grade, but it was hard to care.

“Well, we don't tolerate that attitude here, Miss Boone. See me for detention this afternoon.”

Reesie kept cool as she walked back to her seat and slouched in it, but her conscience was screaming and hollering. Another detention! Her mother would lose it. And who was supposed to pick up Jazz from school now?

Reesie violently flipped open her notebook, telling her righteous self that she might get away with it, since Mama and Daddy weren't exactly standing together on very much these days
.
She sighed and began to copy the freakishly long equation from the chalkboard, frowning with forced concentration. The bell rang before she could get everything down. On cue, Mr. Worthy turned and wiped the dry-erase board clean.
Just for spite,
she thought, scrambling to gather her things so she could make it to Art I on time.

The art class was a welcoming world for her. It was the one place where she most remembered her old life—the best parts. They were drawing still lifes for this unit, and when her pencil touched paper, she was in the moment. Lemons in a silver bowl, a blue glass vase beside it, a red cloth draped behind. There was nothing before or after, only what her eyes saw and what her brain created in the moment.

The period was over before she knew it.

Heat was blasting in the hallway, which seemed to have shrunk as it filled with preteen bodies, voices, and smells. She got a momentary dizzy, stomach-tightening feeling that took her back to the Superdome on that awful day. This was almost too much for her to handle. She quickly squeezed through to the staircase, hurrying to her locker. It was practically empty. She stood for a moment, mentally ticking off the textbooks she was using as a side table in her room: history, earth science … and yes, algebra. At least she could make an attempt at the homework.

Was she going to the detention?
Not
.

She heard two or three hi's from girls she passed, and got four or five what's-up nods from boys as she hustled her way toward the side doors. There was no sign of Felicidad, Dadi, the only girl she'd met on her first day who'd actually
not
asked her a question about New Orleans. Reesie was willing to be friends with her for that reason alone. She remembered that Dadi, a fierce dancer, had a tap class after school on Tuesdays.

Maybe she should call Ayanna, or Orlando.… One touch of her jacket pocket reminded her that one, she didn't have a phone, and two, they were hundreds of miles away. Orlando was still in Houston, but they were closer friends than ever, even if they hadn't ever talked about that kiss. Ayanna, on the other hand, was getting slower and slower on picking up now that her family had decided to stay in Atlanta.

Reesie sucked her teeth in disgust.

She pushed out of the heavy steel doors, and her foot sank into snow. She hated snow. She lifted her face to the gray-blue sky, feeling the big wet flakes on her eyelashes and lips, almost like rain.

Almost like water,
she thought, as she slogged her lime green, fleece-lined boots through it. In one movement, she tugged at the straps of the stiff purple backpack that she despised, and hunched her shoulders to wade through the soft ankle-deep snow. Almost like water.

And then, predictable as always, everything came back to her. Those memories that hid in the shadows when she tried to sleep. Those vivid thoughts that hung like bats in the back of her mind during algebra. Those memories that kept her distant from nearly all these supposedly
good
kids in this
good
school in this
good
New Jersey town.

She stomped along the unshoveled sidewalks. The trees arching over her hung heavy with icicles from a freeze and then a thaw a few days before. The different-colored houses she passed all wore holiday decorations, wreaths and lights strung across Victorian porches. Some even had stupid-looking inflated snowmen or reindeer in the middle of their front yards.

It was supposed to be the happiest time of the year, right?