The Black and White Lady

The Black and White Lady

The moment I arrived at the adoption building I froze from the stomach down, my eyes glazed over in fear, and I think I even soiled myself. I couldn’t move, I wouldn’t move…I thought maybe if I refused, they couldn’t take me away, and I would go back home to my cozy fireplace and eat from that big orange box of chocolate chip cookies that momma baked for me. Well, they weren’t really for me, they were for the people working at the adoption facility, but I pretended they were for me. I wanted to think momma had made them special for me, so I snatched the box before we left and told her daddy had taken them. My mom made a deeply painful sigh. Dad had died several months earlier, but I decided to ignore the facts and used him as a scape goat. She just let it go, knowing full well my wrong doing. After seeing there was no way to get me out of the car, my mom instead brought the staff out to me. They all shuffled out the street to take a good look, wispering to each other as they signed the acception forms. I felt like some circus side show, no, actually I felt like the main event… all I knew was there were people surrounding me, looking at me any which way, asking questions about things I didn’t understand. “Come see the homeless boy!” I thought I could hear in the background.

I immediately squeezed my bear as hard I could, so tight its head was about to burst and all the stuffing would come flying out. At least the bear would feel what I was feeling. It took me to a sort of calm, happy place, to see the bear squeezed so hard. Then with a sudden burst of energy, I sprinted out of the car, pushing my mom out of the way with tears in my eyes. I was so oblivious to my surrounding that I would have hit the glass door if a man hadn’t just opened it for himself. So instead I ran into him and just stuck like glue. I didn’t care what his name was or how old he was, or what he did for a living. I just wanted something to hold on to. And so I did, I held on to him as hard as I knew how. The longer I held on the more I cried, because I knew that this wasn’t ever going to end. I would spend the rest of my childhood searching for a home. Slowly but firmly, I felt a hand touch me back.

Later I learned that his name was Mr. Koner, and he actually worked there finding homes for lost kids. He was so touched from the experience that he volunteered to be my watcher. I have to admit, even if I knew nothing about him, I felt more secure that day in his arms than I had for 3 years in anyone else’s. A couple of weeks after I signed in, they had an old woman calling in for a boy of my age, so Mr. Koner gave me a ride in his truck to her house to see if we had a match. Now, Mr. Koner’s truck was about as ugly and rusty as a truck could be. Its front bumper had seen hard times, and his windshield was cracked in several places, the seats were dirty, and the doors made weird sounds when you opened them. Heck, smoke even came out of hood when he started it. He looked down embarrassingly when he showed me the piece of work, but there was nothing to be scared of… I was in no position to judge. So there I was chugging along in his Chevy looking for the old lady that wanted me, hopefully. Yes, I can still remember the address: 06606 Halt street. It had to be the oddest thing I had ever come across. Her front door seemed so warped that it looked like it had been hinged there for a thousand years. Two trees stood in her yard, both dead. The same went for her grass. I didn’t know grass could get that yellow. But that’s just getting started.

This old loon’s house was covered from chimney to front door in black and white squares, thousands of them. It seemed like a dream, the walls of the house seemed to jump out at you, sucking the car into a world without color. I was so fascinated with it, I didn’t even remember why we came. Mr. Koner seemed just as bewildered as me, dropping his cigarette and whispering “What in Gods name…?” as soon as he got of the truck. When we approached the house he turned to me, licked his lips and nervously told me that she had just left the funny farm last April, and that we better keep an eye on her. Finally we reached her front door, Koner reluctantly knocked ever so lightly, as if so she wouldn’t hear and we could go home happy. But instead we found the door hadn’t been shut fully, so it creaked open after the first knock. It gave me an eerie feeling as if something was hiding behind it. As we started to walk in the room, I stuttered in shock. All the walls inside were as black and white as the outside. Even the floor was chessboard inspired. Koner almost choked on his new cigarette when he saw it. As soon as he regained his composure, he quickly yelled “Anyone home?” He paused for a second, then immediately started for the door pulling me with him. Just then a sound was heard from upstairs, Mr. Koner tightened his grip on my hand and looked up regretfully. "Come on boy." he motioned "She shouldn’t be takin' care of herself, let alone you." Now Koner didn’t care who she was, and if it wasn’t for me, we would have been long gone before she even got to see our faces.

Chapter 2

As Her chairs weren’t very comfortable and the lighting was irritatingly dim. Even in that light there was one thing that set her apart from anyone I had ever seen before. She was as white as a ghost. It freakishly went along with the style of her house making the whole scene look like an old movie.

I started to wonder what it would be like to live in a house like this. As I was thinking, she served me some tea from an old and rusted bean can. And if you don’t think serving British tea out of an old bean can is weird you have problems… what makes it even weirder is that the can came from the Second World War, which could be plainly seen by the propaganda on the sides portraying a skinny drawing of Adolf Hitler, which was curiously scribbled on by a permanent pen in Yiddish. If I hadn’t been so disgusted by the thought of drinking tea from some soldier’s bean dip, I might have even stopped to admire the heritage of it. Before he died, my dad would always talk to me about World War II. It was like his hobby, to learn all he could about it. He would always tell me little tidbit facts that nobody else knew, and quite frankly, didn’t want to know…I remember him telling me once that the marines sometimes took a poop in any container they could find if proper bathroom settings were not convenient. Would a bean can be considered a “container”? I shivered at the thought and pretended to sip it to appease her as I eyed it, having that thought deep in my mind I was going to discover a floaty in my bright yellow concoction.

When my observing was finished, I looked back at the old lady. She was staring at me, waiting for something to happen. There was an awkward silence filling the black and white little room. She just twiddled her little shriveled thumbs looking at me with longing eyes as if to say, “Hurry up here, say something before I croak.” I didn’t know if she was nervous or bored with my being there, sitting in her house on a chair that nobody had sat on for God knows how long. As we had our silent discussion, Koner watched us; I could see him in the corner of my eye, protecting me. It felt good to know I was safe. It made me want to explore things in this odd place, knowing I could be saved at any time. After a while of thinking, I finally made up my mind. She was crazy and I didn’t want to know anything about her. As soon as I gained my conclusion, she creaked out of her chair ever so slowly as if reading my mind and giving me a chance to rethink my decision. She attempted to push her chair in, but got so flustered because the rug was being rebellious that she scowled and spit at it, then waddled towards the kitchen mumbling under her breath. Then just as soon as she had gotten up, she waddled back, and sat back down again, possibly right on her own spit.

I had heard from Koner (I don’t know where the heck he gets this information) that she did an awful lot of spitting when she got mad, also mentioning she would get mad at just about anything. I pondered for a second wondering if she ever got frustrated at the bean can, almost gagging a second time. I tried to focus my attention elsewhere at that point. Her hair looked like a war zone with circumventing scotch tape warning the fleas to stay out. As I sat there, looking at her, I was so fascinated with her odd little habits that I forgot about the tea being full of beans and turd and took a sip. A tenth of a second later my eyes widened as I felt the wet juice slide down my throat. I instantly spewed out all that I had left in my mouth, shattering the silence as well as soaking the poor old women. I could tell no matter how hard he tried, Koner couldn’t help but start to giggle from this sudden change in mood. I, on the other hand was horrified of what I had just done, recalling what she had done to the rebellious chair, I squirmed in my seat awaiting the worst. I left my head limp hoping she would be gone when I looked up. Awaiting my death sentence, I started to remember the tea and finally came to the conclusion that it was actually very tasty. Just then I could hear a noise coming from the other side of the table.

She was laughing! I lifted my head faster then I ever had before. She was smiling and giggling and I didn’t understand why. I started to smile trying to go along with it.