Mama B - A Time to Mend (Book 4) (14 page)

His face reddened even more.
“I’ve got people coming to throw it all out.”

Instantly, the thought of the
ministry at Frank’s church came to mind. “You think me and some of the ladies
from my church could come over during the clean-up and gather some things that
might be useful to the homeless and the food pantry outreach over in Peasner?”

“Have at it. Everything’s
junk, as far as I’m concerned.”

I ventured, “You think Julia
might give your marriage another chance once you get things in order?”

He smirked as though I was
out of my mind. “Julia and I aren’t married.”

Here, all this time I’ve been thinking I
was doing right, puttin’ a strain on my marriage, by trying to save this
“family” when they hadn’t even united as a family yet.
Lord, I repent. I got
to start listenin’ to Frank for real ‘cause You done made up Your mind to lead
the marriage through husbands.
“Oh. I see. I just assumed, with y’all
livin’ together and all, she was your wife. You ain’t ever thought about
marryin’
her?”

Anyhow, Michael laughed at my
suggestion. “I see why Jeffrey calls you ‘Mama B’.”

“I’m just saying,” I said.

“Michael pouted his lips in
thought. “I don’t know how your husband did it, but he must have cleaned
himself up because he’s certainly got himself a saint.”

“You ain’t too bad yourself,
Michael. We all got something to clean up in our lives.”

“If he ever messes up, you’ve
got a league of lawyers in your corner.” He winked at me.

I suppose in his mind, that
was a kind gesture. Guess I was gonna have to meet him at his level, too. “I’ll
keep that in mind, Michael.”

Chapter 19

Michael wasted no time taking
me up on my offer to help with Jeffrey. And the school didn’t waste no time
calling me to come see about Jeffrey. Seems that on the second day of class,
Jeffrey and another student didn't see eye-to-eye on exactly which one of them
was in line first in the cafeteria. They got into a shoving match, which
somebody broke up before any blows were thrown, thank God. Now, knowing
Jeffrey, I’m sure he was in line first because Jeffrey got a strong sense of
things being out of order. After I learned all that about his condition on the
internet, I was all the more determined to get in there and help Michael clean
up because I know for a fact that house had to be driving Jeffrey insane.

Anyhow, Jeffrey’s teacher’s
name was Mrs. Highway, and she had the right name ‘cause I could tell from the
way she walked into the conference room with her nose stuck up in the air, it
was gonna be her way or no way at all. I started praying silently right away.

The vice principal, Mr.
Golding, started off the meeting by introducing everybody, which included me,
Mrs. Highway, the counselor, and two people from the special education
department. The conference room could have held up to twelve people or so, but
I was glad there wasn’t too many more people present.

Mr. Golding informed them
that I was representing Mr. Allen in the meeting. Then he handed me the
referral paper on Jeffrey and gave me another chance to read through the issue.

“Mrs. Wilson, we need to make
sure we’re clear on a couple things about Jeffrey,” Mr. Golding said. He
twisted his wedding band as though it hurt, and it probably did, tight as it
was on his plump finger.

I was sitting there waiting
for Mrs. Wilson to speak up—I couldn’t remember the names of
everybody—when it hit me that
I
was Mrs. Wilson. “Oh, yes. Go
ahead.”

One of the special education
ladies spoke up, “We understand that Jeffrey has special needs, and of course
we welcome
all
children into the walls of this school. But often, children
like Jeffrey need extra guidelines in place to help them succeed.”

I nodded in agreement.

“Well, if he’s having trouble
in large crowds, maybe Jeffrey might be to eat in isolation,” Mrs. Highway
suggested.

“Oh no, I don’t think so,” I
countered before the special education lady could talk. I think she was about
to agree with me, but I finished my train of thought first. “Jeffrey is
perfectly capable of getting along with other people, so long as they don't try
to do stuff like skip the line.”

Mrs. Highway’s eyes got real
big, like she wasn’t expectin’ me to speak up for Jeffrey. Now, I ain’t got
nothin’ against teachers or schools, but one thing I do know: Teachers and
principals and the likes are people, too, and most people like to make they job
as easy as possible. I know Jeffrey was going to be a challenge, but I wasn’t
gonna let them stick my neighbor in no isolation closet, even if it meant she
might have to work a little harder with him. I got plenty practice with being
an advocate or my children, especially with that hot-headed Son.

The counselor intervened.
“Well, until we’ve done our testing, we can’t really say what exactly would be
in Jeffrey’s best interest.”

I sat back in my seat, glad
to know that they knew I meant business.

Mr. Golding asked when they
thought the testing would be complete, and the counselor said they was waiting
on some papers from Mr. Allen to sign.

“I’ll make sure he gets them
back to you tomorrow,” I said.

The second lady from the
special education department asked me, “Mrs. Wilson, what have you noticed
about Jeffrey’s behavior?”

“Well, he gets frustrated
when things are out of place. He doesn’t like loud noises. But one thing you
probably don’t know, he’s got an excellent memory! He knows the license plate
of every car on our street!”

“Wow. Sounds like he has
savant qualities,” the counselor remarked.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“When an autistic person has
superior memory ability or some other amazing gift, whether mathematical or
artistic,” she explained.

“That’s definitely Jeffrey,”
I said. “And if you all give him a chance to settle in, I’m sure he will be a
great student. He’s a sweetheart, really.” I grinned, patting the top of my
purse. “He’s been through a lot with his home life. And the last person who was
supposed to be homeschooling him, well, she had some problems of her own to
deal with. I’m glad he’s here with people who care about him and want the best
for him. And I’m retired, so I can come up here any time to drop in and check
on him if need be.”

By this time, everybody at
the table was smiling ear-to-ear except Mrs. Highway. Her brown eyebrows were
in a pinch, and I could tell this was not music to her ears.

“But one thing he might need
is a smaller class, at least until he gets into the routine of school again,” I
added.

“I think we can arrange
that,” Mr. Golding said.

And just like that, Jeffrey
had favor with the vice principal, the counselors, and everybody else at that
school in a position to make decisions for him. With the reassurance that I’d
get the ball rolling with Jeffrey’s father, we all decided to hold off on
another meeting until after testing. Until then, Mr. Golding and the special
education teachers would work with Jeffrey’s new teacher to help keep a stable
environment.

Since it was almost lunch
time when we ended our discussion, I asked Mrs. Highway if it would be possible
for me to eat with Jeffrey. She said that would be perfectly fine with her.

They had placed Jeffrey in
the sixth grade because middle school would be too much, we all agreed. So he
was still in an elementary school, and I knew it wouldn’t be completely out of
place for me to eat lunch with him.

There he was, standing in the
cafeteria line minding his own business when just about every kid in the
cafeteria momentarily stared at me as I walked into the noisy room. Smelled
like they were having something with beef, which I knew wasn’t Jeffrey’s
favorite. I made a mental note to get a menu and tell his Nanny to try and pack
his lunch on the days they were serving red meat.

As soon as Jeffrey looked up
and saw me, his face turned up and he waved ecstatically. “Mama B! I’m here!”

Some of the kids around him
giggled, but he was oblivious.

“Hi, Jeffrey,” I said,
hugging his shoulder while he grasped my waist like there was no tomorrow.

“Why are you here?”

“I came to eat lunch with
you,” I said. “You hungry?”

He bopped his head up and
down. “Yes.”

No sooner than Jeffrey
answered my question, I felt somebody bump against my hind parts. I turned
around to see the back side of a little boy’s messy blonde head. He was too
busy laughing and pointing at somebody to realize he’d invaded my personal
space.

I tapped him on the shoulder.
“Excuse me.”

He twirled around. “Huh?”

No manners.
“Young man, you bumped into
me just a second ago.”

His face was blank. “Oh.
Sorry.”

“Uh huh.”

Jeffrey blurted out, “He cuts
in line.”

So, he’s the one.

“Shut up, you idiot,” the boy
snapped back at Jeffrey.

“Wait just a minute here.” I
put a hand on both boys’ shoulders. “You two don’t even know each other, and
you
certainly don’t know
me
, young man. What is your name?”

“Caleb.”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful name.
Caleb was a great man in the Bible.”

“He was?” Caleb asked,
astonished.

“Yes! He had great faith. He
was one of the few people who actually got some of the promises God made. So,
I’m gonna make a promise to you, Caleb. When’s your birthday?”

“Cool! April twentieth.” He
suddenly looked like a little boy sitting on Santa’s lap.

“Well, for your birthday,
because you are named after such a great person, I’m going to give you a
birthday gift.”

The other kids in line had
started listening to me on account of we were holding up the line a bit.

“And I’m gonna send if
through my neighbor, Jeffrey. Now, he’s gonna give you this gift whether you
treat him right or not, but I prefer you treat him right, you hear?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“April twentieth. I won’t
forget,” I said to Caleb.

“Okay. Thank you, Ma’am.”

Now, I know that came pretty
close to bribing Caleb to lay off Jeffrey, but I know the bullyin’ type kids. A
lot of times, they just need someone to believe in ‘em, someone to speak nice
words over them and give them something to look forward to in life, even if it
wasn’t much.

Me and Jeffrey turned around
and went on through the line. We got our little Styrofoam trays with spaghetti,
corn, and peaches. We picked up the plastic utensils and boxed juices and took
a seat next to a group of kids who wasn’t payin’ us no mind, really, so I took
the liberty of introducing them to Jeffrey. They all said “Hi” and Jeffrey followed
suit.

I don’t think none of them
wanted to be his friend right away, but that was fine for now. In the smaller
class, and maybe once he met some other kids in the special program, he’d make
friends. Or else I’d pray him up some friends. Either way, he was gonna be
alright.

At the end of the
thirty-minute lunch period, I told Jeffrey I was going home. “I’ll see you
after school.”

He pulled my jacket when I
stood. “Thank you for coming Mama B.”

“Any time, Jeffrey.”

He winked at me.

Like father like son.

Chapter 20

Since Ida Mae was feelin’
quite beholden to me, she helped me convince the rest of the Mother’s Board and
the young women to at least come help sort through the stuff in the Allen
household for the sake of the less fortunate.

“Is the less fortunate people
at Frank’s church black?” Henrietta wanted to know.

I shook my head and let
Ophelia answer that question in the meeting. She must have been at her wit’s
end with Henrietta, too, because she simply replied, “Yes. Some of them are
black.”

“Okay, then,” Henrietta
agreed.

We started the cleanup early
one Saturday morning. The professional organizers—I didn’t even know
there was such an occupation!—told us how we was gonna do it. They had an
area of the yard for broken and destroyed stuff that needed to be throwed away.
Another area for stuff to keep, which Michael and Jeffrey had to go through.
And whatever they didn’t want, got sent over to our area, stuff to give away. Shoot,
I had been doing the same thing with Libby. Maybe I should have had somebody
paying me to organize!

Anyhow, watching Jeffrey and
Michael talk through their part did my heart good. First time I ever seen them
communicating, which is something I gather they had been doing more since
Jeffrey had started back going to school, and also since I’d insisted on
Michael coming to get Jeffrey from my house as soon as possible after work. I’d
send them on their way with something to eat more often than not ‘cause,
according to Jeffrey, Michael “burns all the food”.