Meet your Mother-Memoir COMPLETE

    ONE
"Your mother, Harriet called." The words floated in the air for a full minute then exploded in my mind as a lightening bolt stiking a clear summer sky. What mother, I thought. I had never thought about having a mother. Ma was my mother, wasn't she?

That was the day all the fear started. The fear that I think I’ll always have. Why would this woman, Harriet who claimed to be my mother, come to see me after so many years?

It was a month before my eleventh birthday. As far as I knew, Harriet hadn't seen me since I was three days old and she put me into foster care. Ma said I was luckier than most. Instead of bouncing from foster home to foster home I just stayed in the first one where they brought me. When Harriet called, there was only one other foster kid living there. Patti, she had just turned five. It was a day better than most. It was Patti's birthday.

Papa had died the winter before. It was just the three of us, Ma, Patti and me. Ma had five grown kids of her own and twelve grandchildren, so our house was never quiet.

We had gone to Ma's son, Charlie's house to have cake and ice-cream for Patti's birthday. Patti and I liked going to their house because there were four kids and a pool. Patti spent most her time with Tammi, who was four. I spent most of my time with Lisa, who was almost 14; three years older than me and real cool. She had nice clothes, sometimes wore make-up, and even had a boyfriend, kind of.

Patti was bouncing up and down when Ma gave her a thin package about a foot long, wrapped in birthday paper with a small pink bow. Ma handed her the package, Patti looked at it, turned it over and over until we screamed, "OPEN IT"!

Patti slowly tore the top part of the paper. Once Patti saw the bright pink box, a sixteenth of a second was all it took for her to rip off the rest of the paper. A Barbie doll was just what she'd been asking for those past few months. 

On the way home in the car, Patti sat happily trying to fit a pair of boots onto Barbie's feet. Why Barbie dolls always end up naked, with nothing but boots was beyond me. 

"Careful, you'll lose one, those shoes are small," I said as I pried a tiny pink shoe from between the seats.

"Thanks" Patti took the shoe and put it into the box and then went back to wrestle with the boot.

"I don't want to find those little dresses all over the house" Ma sent warning looks to us through the rearview mirror. She stopped for a red light, turned around in her seat to face Patti with that no-nonsense look, just in case she wasn't listening, as usual. "If you leave the shoes on the floor, the vacuum cleaner will find them," Ma said.

I was trying to figure out how I could get Ma to paint my bedroom pink, not just pink but a real hot electric pink. Lisa had just painted her room purple. Deep royal purple walls, I think she said it was called "majestic royalty." It was a deep dark Purple, with hot pink bedspread, hot pink lamp, hot pink fuzzy rug. I’d kill for a room like that, I thought, imagining my cramped space, hand-me down furniture, and mismatched everything that I had to share with Patti.

I wanted just the opposite of Lisa's room. My wish was for pink walls with purple everything else. At that time, my room was barf green, a grass-like green, BORING! I didn't have a matching bedspread. I always knew my bedroom was dull but I never really noticed the bedspread until I saw Lisa's room. In my mind, my room said loser, with a capital L.

Ma had been talking about having the bedrooms painted but she hadn't decided any colors yet. Why shouldn't my room be any color I wanted? I've been in the same room in the same bed for the past ten years. When Patti moved out of the crib two years earlier, she moved into my room, but still, it was MY room. So why shouldn't it be the color I liked. Besides, Patti liked pink; it was like all that Barbie stuff. Yes, this made sense, I'm gonna try asking, I thought.

"Ma, are we gonna paint the bedrooms soon?" I thought I would jump in with a question.

"Yes, the end of the summer, why?" She looked at me through the mirror.

"What color are you gonna paint my room?" I closed my eyes and waited for the answer.

"What's wrong with the color?"

"Uh, nothin, I just kinda wanted to change it." I closed my eyes and winced.

"Changin’ the color will make it cost more, more coats of paint, probably a primer coat too." She said it as plain as if she said it was Tuesday. Didn't she hear my heart shattering? Why did grown-ups only care what something costs? I knew we didn't have a lot of money. "Money doesn’t grow on trees." If I had a dollar for every time I heard one of those crushing remarks, I could have the money to paint my room. I didn't want to give up.

"Did you see Lisa's room? Her father let her paint it herself." I smiled; I knew she was watching me through the mirror.

"Forget it, you are not painting your room." She stopped for a stop sign and turned to look at me, there was that look again, only this time it was for me. I shut my mouth and sulked the rest of the way home.

                          TWO

As Ma pulled the car into the driveway I tried to think of another strategy.

"Get all Barbie's things out of the backseat." Ma said as she rushed to open the front door. We heard the phone ringing. Ma always kept the phone ringer on high; she spent hours in the front yard tending her rosebushes and carnations. Patti and I spent most of our summers picking mulberries from the tree in the back yard or playing hide n seek, Patti's favorite game. I found that game especially boring and just let her win most of the time but she never knew.

"Harriet who?" Ma was asking into the phone. "What? When? Well I guess so." She was saying. Patti and I put our things down and decided to go down to the basement to find a box for her Barbie clothes. Patti had gone down first and I lingered at the top step just for a moment. “What for?” I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop but Ma was getting a little angry with the person on the phone. "I don't like this one bit. Yes, I guess that's true. Fine then" I heard Ma say. I followed Patti down the stairs. “

The basement was a mixture of finished and unfinished. One side of the basement had a finished den with a working fireplace that we never used. There was a kitchen area with a small countertop, deep washtub sink, and washing machine, which Ma used every Monday and Thursday. There was an old gas stove that Ma used when she was canning tomatoes from her garden. She didn't like using the upstairs stove 'cause she said the tomatoes made too much of a mess. Next to the washer was a clothes dryer that Ma only used in the winter. She didn't want the dryer but her daughter Terri bought it.

"Move into the new century, everyone has a dryer" Terri said. Ma would naturally reply with something like, "It wastes electricity or it cost too much" Remarks like that were mumbled every time Ma used it. The kitchen area of the basement had an old refrigerator and a small-unfinished bathroom with a working toilet but no door. No one ever used that bathroom. I had no idea how it got started and why it was never finished. It's just always been that way.

"Tomorrow, what time?" Ma shouted into the phone. She was upset with someone. "Okay we'll be ready, see you then" Ma slammed down the phone without saying good-bye.

The unfinished side of the basement is where Patti and I headed. Near the oil tank and heat burner where old boxes were stacked up. Some of the filled boxes had labels, "baby 0-6 mo," and "6 month-12 months." Ma always kept extra clothes on hand. We never knew when another foster kid would arrive or what age they would be. So, Old baby clothes never went to waste. There they were, empty boxes that had been flattened to save space. A bit of tape would fix them right up. Patti picked out two boxes and I opened them up to check the sizes. We needed a box big enough to lay Barbie in and small enough for a five-year-old to carry around the house.

"This one's ugly but it's the right size." I estimated.

"Can we paint it?" She squinted at the box.

Sure, if we have enough money "Ya, I guess so," I said. Patti can do that herself. I was saving my skills for my room.

"Maybe Ma will see how good you paint," Patti said. I guess sometimes, kids do listen.

"Okay I'll help," not too eager but at least I offered. I had nothing to do right then anyway. We straightened the pile of broken down boxes and headed upstairs. Ma was in the kitchen as usual. 

We had a large kitchen with a counter that ran through the middle of it. Next to the counter there were three tall stools that we spun around endlessly as our mealtime entertainment. Patti fell off a stool last month, bumped her chin on the countertop and her teeth cut her bottom lip. After that, Ma wasn't too keen on spinning.

The opposite side of the kitchen had a large butcher-block table with chairs and benches upholstered in gold vinyl. We used the table whenever we have company, which was almost every day. Our kitchen was a busy place. Ma had the kitchen painted a bright yellow with flowered curtains. She said that yellow was perfect for a kitchen because it was happy and bright. It reminded her of the warm sunlight that kissed her rose bushes outside the window.

Patti took her box to the table while I went to look for tape and paints.

"Ma, Roxanne is gonna help me paint this box for Barbie. Okay?" Patti asked.

"don't make a mess," Ma continued to stir the pot she had cooking on the stove. Ma was always cooking something. There were only the three of us living there then, but that didn't stop food from disappearing. Between neighbors, and family, no one leaves Ma's kitchen without having something to eat. Someone can refuse ten times but they will always end up sitting down to have something to eat. That was Ma, biggest pasta pusher on the East Coast.

As I came back into the kitchen, Ma was pouring soup into a bowl for me to sample. I spread the tape, poster paint and brushes on the table. Just off the kitchen is a small entryway. That's where Ma kept cases of soda, and two recycle bins. I pulled out a small stack of newspaper from one of the bins and handed it to Patti.

"Spread these out, cover the whole table." I instructed Patti. While she tries doing that, I went over to the soup bowl. It was a thick chicken soup. There were chunks of carrots, celery and chicken but no noodles; Ma always put the noodles in last. It smelled great, hot and steaming.

"Uh, listen" Ma started then stopped. She was standing by the stove not facing me. "I got a call today, uh, a little while ago." She turned and looked at me but I wasn't really listening. I was still trying to work out the whole painting my room thing in my head. Maybe Patti was right; if I show Ma how neat I could be, she would let me try doing my room, I thought.

I guess she could tell I wasn't paying attention; she left the stove and stood across the counter from me to get my attention. That's when she said it, "Harriet, your mother called." I sat there as though someone had turned me off. "Your mother, Harriet called." Ma kept saying it. What was she talking about? I didn't have a mother. I'd never had a mother. What did she say? It wasn't registering. My mother? "Did you hear me?" She finally asked. My spoon had stopped in midsip as my mind went into full gear trying to register what she was saying.

I had always known Ma wasn't my real mother. That became obvious to me when I started school. There was no shortage of kids asking questions. Why my mother was so old or why was I different? It was obvious just looking at me; I didn't belong to Ma.

She was a short plump, fair-skinned blonde Italian from northern Italy. Me, well I wasn't fair skinned or anywhere near blonde. Ma said I should tell anyone who was rude enough to ask, that I was Filipino or Spanish. I had no way of knowing what was true.

There were always foster kids coming and going. Some stayed a week, some stayed a month, and some like me, stayed forever. I have always been here. Ma said I was 3 days old when I came. It just never mattered to me where or who my real mother was.

Ma was my mother. I never thought about being adopted or that I would have to leave like the other kids. I don't know why, but, up till then, I had just never thought about it. No one except an occasional social worker ever called about me. Usually social workers just dealt with the other kids. I was just another paper in their file. 

One time, a new social worker came to the house to see Patti and an older kid named Jason who was living with us at the time. The social worker was surprised to find me there; they didn't even have me listed on the home information sheet. The home information sheet was supposed to list everyone living in the house, Adults and kids, even those who aren’t “state kids.” A screw up at the office she had said. Sometimes, I'm not even a paper in the file. But none of that ever mattered. I was happy where I was. This light blue house covered with aluminum siding with was the only home I had ever known.

"What does she want?" I asked, afraid of the answer.

"She's comin’ to see you," Ma said,

"What for?" I asked, getting angry. "I don't want to see her!"

"She's married, I guess, maybe, she wants you to live with her." Ma went back to stirring her pot.

"NO! I won't see her" I had no reason to see her. I wasn't going to leave, no way, case closed.

"Well, tomorrow morning." Ma said as though I had no say in the matter. I put down the soupspoon and walked over to Patti and her box. She had done a good job covering the table with newspaper. I tried not thinking about Harriet. What kind of a stupid name was Harriet, anyway?

"First we'll paint, then I will tape the bottom of the box"

"Can we use pink?" Patti smiled.

"I'll have to make some I don't have any pink."

"How do we make pink?" Patti said paying close attention.

"Go get a couple of paper cups from the bathroom," I said. Off she went, skipping down the hallway. I continued working with Patti's box. Ma turned off the burners on the stove, walked over and stood in front of me. I just ignored her, I was angry with her. How could she play a terrible joke like that on me? Did she really think that after more than ten years I was gonna believe some made up mother was gonna come see me?

"You don't have a choice. She'll be here at ten thirty, wear the red dress." she made the statement and didn't wait for any reply; she just walked away. I couldn't reply anyway. I couldn't think of anything to say. I knew, I wasn't going to meet  some dumb old woman who thought I was gonna just pack up and go with her. 
                                                                               
                          THREE

I did my best to ignore this crazy idea of a mother calling. I kept my mind on helping Patti. She returned from the bathroom with the paper cups then watched closely as I poured a small amount of white poster paint into a cup.

"That's white not pink" she pouted.

"Just wait" I picked up the red paint, poured a couple of drops into the white, and began stirring it around with the paintbrush.

"Cool, it's all swirly" Patti said.

"Watch," I kept pouring drops of red and stirring.

"It's getting pink, it's working!" She shouted. "Ma look, Roxanne made pink." Patti started waving her hands around when the Barbie pink started to show. "That's it, that's good, stop there, yes, yes my color," Patti squealed. "Ma look, look how pretty this is." Ma gave a nod from the sink where she had started to wash dishes. We didn’t have a dishwasher. Ma said they wasted too much water; she could wash the dishes better by hand.

After getting the color just right, I began covering the flattened box with the pink mixture. Patti went to get Barbie's clothes and shoes and laid them on the table.

"You know you're gonna have to wait for the paint to dry." I said.

"Just gettin' ready," Patti held the original Barbie box close to the paint to compare the colors. "It's gonna be perfect" she beamed. I carefully lifted the painted box and placed it in her hands.

"Carry this outside, lay it in the driveway, it'll dry faster," I walked to the door and held it open. "Be careful," I told her. Patti maneuvered out the door and down the back steps. She laid the box carefully on the tar. "Find a rock to put on the corner so..." I started to say from the open doorway. A stiff breeze came and took the box out of Patti's hands. She ran after it as it bopped around leaving pink splotches on the driveway. I laughed.

"Either in or out" Ma shouted from the sink. "You're gonna’ to let a fly in." Ma hated a fly in the house. I stepped outside to help Patti. We caught the box before it flew too far. I found a rock and she positioned it on the corner of the box. Patti and I went in and I wiped pink paint off her fingers with a paper towel.

"You throw the newspaper back into the bin. I'll put the paints away." I instructed and Patti obeyed. I knew she wouldn’t fold the newspaper. I knew that after she shoved the papers in a heap into the bin, I would have to take them out and fold them to get them back in evenly. I could've just left them messy. Then I thought, I should. Then Ma would have to do it herself. She'll be a little annoyed, but so what.
Why should I have to do everything? I can't even have my room the way I want it.

I put the paints back in their box on the shelf in our bedroom. I looked at the sick green walls that I hated so much. What if I have to leave? My heart started to race and my head started to hurt. Ma wouldn't let them take me. Not after all this time. How could she stop them? What was I going to do? I could be mean to this woman. As terrible as possible, then she wouldn't want me to live with her. I'll show her just how awful I can be, I thought. The green wasn't that bad. I went to the bathroom to help Patti wash her hands.

Why should I be nice to a stranger? Where had she been all this time? Last winter just before Christmas, I was walking home from a Girl Scout meeting. I slipped on a small patch of ice and broke my ankle. Where was this woman? Ma is the one who took me to the hospital. This woman was nothing to me, and I was going to show her that. I spent the rest of that afternoon deciding what horrible things I could do so this woman would just leave.

I'll be sure to look my worst, I thought. That was easy; my hair was usually a black kinky mess. Ma said it was so tangled some days it looked like a birds nest. "Tomorrow will be one of those days," I said looking in the mirror. One day a girl in school told me I should wear my hair in those cornrow braids that black girls wear on TV. Ma didn't know how to make those kinds of braids and she would have freaked if I suggested I was black. Usually Ma had no idea what to do with my hair, so we just kept it in a short poof with a part in the side.

Ma and I didn't speak much the rest of that day. I knew it wasn't her fault, but couldn't she do something? It just seemed like she didn't care if I went or not. She wants me to go. Ma always did like babies. Maybe I'm too old and she just wants to take care of little ones. She always says, "Babies keep me young."

A week before Harriet's call, Ma had been called down to the principal's office at school. I was innocent, but Ma came home and punished me anyway, then said, "You are too old to behave this way and you are making me old." Could that have been it, was I just too old? I wondered. I knew this was not a punishment, Ma wouldn't kick someone out and she did seem surprised by the call. No, this wasn't Ma's fault.

Ma came into my room, sat on my bed, and said, "The social worker didn't say that Harriet wanted you to come live with her."

"Then why is she coming?" I asked. There was a huge lump in my throat. Ma's eyes were wet. That was one of those times when I wished I could cry.

"I guess she is sorry she gave you up, and wants to get to know you." Ma wiped her eyes and calmed down. "It will be good to meet her and see what she's like," Ma smiled. I said nothing. I couldn't think of anything to say. “Let’s not worry until we have to, Okay?” I felt better knowing Ma didn't want me to go. She left the room and went back to her housework. I spent the rest of the evening planning my day of terror.

I spent the night tying to think of a way to stop Harriet from coming. I didn't care if she were sick or decided not to come. I just wanted my life to stay the same. I looked out my bedroom window. There was never a shooting star when you need one.

I wondered if people were like baby birds. Even though they’re born blind, they can tell their mother’s scent and mother birds could always tell their babies the same way. Ma said, “God made them that way.” I knew that it wouldn’t be a smell ‘cause people use perfume, powder and smelly soaps, but maybe there would be something else. Something you couldn’t see, but just feel. I had never heard of that kind of a feeling for humans, but then who would have told me about it? I hoped there would be no connection, no feeling, nothing that would make me leave Ma and Patti. I said my prayers twice that night. Ma always said, "God hears everyone." He had never heard any wishes before, but I had never wanted anything as much as this before.

                    FOUR

I woke to find my red dress laying at the foot of my bed along with my school shoes. I held the dress up in front of me and walked to the mirror. That was my favorite dress; the color looked good on me. The bright red made my dark eyes look black. Nope, that Harriet woman was not getting my red dress, I vowed. I pulled out my yucky green top. The one that had been stained by mulberries and the hem coming loose on one side. I dug into the bottom of my closet for my worst jeans and sneakers. No one was going to make me wear anything else. If Ma was going to play along with this stupid joke then I didn't have to go along with it too.

I took the dress and shoes, crumpled them into a ball and shoved them into the bottom of the dirty clothes hamper. I didn't like crumpling my best dress, but the sacrifice was worth it. After dressing, I went in to breakfast. The kitchen smelled of maple and bacon and the sun was shining through the windows giving the room a blindingly bright glow.

"Buongiorno" Ma sang out over the sound of the vacuum cleaner in the living room. What was she so happy about? I had a restless night and I was in no mood for happy faces. I just grumbled back. There were two places set at the counter. Ma had left three covered plates. I opened the first cover to find a short stack of bacon.
The second and third were filled with scrambled eggs and buttered toast. I began to spoon out some eggs when Patti came down the hallway.

"I don't want any yucky eggs," Patti said as she stifled a yawn. I put a piece of toast on her plate then went to the refrigerator for orange juice. "Oooh my box."

Patti squealed to find the box we had painted sitting on the table. I had painted her name on one side and Barbie's on the other.

"I finished it last night, after you went to bed." I smiled.

"My name too," she was delighted. I finished my eggs and bacon as slowly as I could.

"I put your dress on your bed. I want you to take a bath this morning." Ma said as she came in to the kitchen, picked up her gardening basket of supplies and went outside.

I wondered if Harriet did want me to live with her, how long would I have? When other kids were adopted, they sometimes got notice. Sometimes a few days, sometimes just a few hours, there really was no standard. When kids went back to their parents, I wasn't sure. Dorothy who was here for a while went back to her mother. She had no notice; they just called and said they were coming to get her. I guessed when you went back to your own parents, there were fewer papers to sign. I hoped I wouldn’t have to go that day. I had friends at school, I wanted to say good-bye; I wasn't ready to go.

Ma would expect me to take a bath. I wanted to be dirty and I hoped I was a little smelly too. Patti stuffed her toast into her mouth, jumped off the stool, grabbed her new pink box off the table and skipped down the hallway. I heard Ma coming up the steps. I ran down to the basement and out to the backyard. I was getting anxious; there was nowhere to hide.

I was angry. I couldn't see, hear, or think straight. How could this woman walk back into my life and expect me to like her? Where was she when I was five, fell out of an unfinished building and had to spend the night alone in a hospital? I was going to do my best to be cold to this woman. I was going to be just polite enough and clean enough so I wouldn't get any dirty looks from Ma.

I searched the back lawn for a dandelion fluffy. I finally found one and picked it. I climbed up the mulberry tree, careful not to loosen any dandelion whispies off the stem. The berries weren't ripe yet, but the tree was full of leaves. I settled in the tree  and closed my eyes. "I wish Harriet won't come, "I said, then blew the whispies off the stem as hard as I could. I opened my eyes to watch them carry my wish high into the sky. I just hoped it wasn't too late. I stayed in the tree, I could hide out there a while, I thought. 

"Roxanne, dove siete? Get in here. questo minuto!" Ma was shouting out the window. I waited until she had shouted three times, until her voice started to screech.

"okay, okay, commin’," I shouted back. I took my time climbing out of the tree. I knew I would have to take a bath and get ready for that loser to show up. Ma once said that my mother was a tramp. I don’t know how Ma knew, but once I remember hearing her say that.  "Your mother is a selfish tramp." I didn't want to go through with this meeting but I couldn't think of anything way to get out of it. I was out of time. Ma had the bath running.

                                FIVE          

I took my time in the tub. I sat thinking, if there was no way for me to avoid this meeting, what should I say? I started to imagine Harriet as a larger version of myself. I could ask her if I was Filipino, Spanish, black or what. Would she have a freckle on her nose like I do? I could ask her why she left me. No, I wasn't brave enough for that.

Then I began to wonder what it would be like living with her. Ma said she's married. Was she married to my father? Would I get my own room? Maybe she would let me paint it pink. Did she have money, I could get new clothes instead of hand-me downs. I sat in the tub for a while. I wondered if she had always been living in Massachusetts or if she was here just to see me. The questions flooded faster than the water rushing out of the tap. I couldn’t keep them straight. I was getting excited, this could be good. I was gonna have a real mother, my mother. I scrubbed my hair, my feet and my hands where the dirt from the backyard had settled tightly under my nails. I lay soaking and dreaming of a different life. A life with no tag-along brats, and no snickers from the kids at school.

"You can’t stay in there all day" Ma called out. "Finish up now." Her words splashed in my face, cold reality had returned. “She’ll be here soon, what have you been doing for an hour?”

Ma, how could I leave Ma? What was I thinking? A year earlier when Papa died, Ma told her daughter Terri that she needed me. What was Ma gonna do without me? She would have no one to cook for, except Patti; she won't eat anything but soup and hot dogs. How could I go? I needed Ma. She was the one who took care of me when I was sick. She's my Ma, I thought. The tub water made me start to shiver. I felt ashamed for thinking I would want to leave Ma.

I didn't care what the kids at school said. I didn’t care what color I was or that I didn't fit there. I do fit, I told myself. I am going to be eleven in a month. This is my home. My heart felt heavy. Would I be able to stop them from taking me? Did I want to? No tears fell, just a lump in my throat, no, my whole body was a lump. I was feeling sick. Maybe Ma could call Harriet. I was too sick for company. I didn't know what I wanted. I didn't know where I belonged. I dried off, wrapped myself in a towel and shuffled into my bedroom. God, I wished I could cry.

Ma had found my discarded dress and shoes, funny how I could never put anything over on her. She said it was because she had spent fifty years taking care of kids. First, her brothers when she was a child in Italy, then her own kids, then a revolving door of foster children. Ma said I acted like one sometimes, but she really was a "know it all" when it came to kids.

Ma managed to air out the dress and straighten the wrinkles. I dressed in a blur. I looked in the mirror at the damp poof sitting on top of my head. I didn’t know if I wanted Harriet to like me or not. I just wanted the day to be over. I wanted to stay in this cramped bedroom with the sick green walls. We could stack our beds into bunk beds and then there would be more room for me and Patti. I liked hand me down jeans, they were comfortable, not stiff like new ones.

Ma came in, she didn’t say anything just picked up a comb and went to work on my head. My hair wish had come true, it was a bad hair day. Ma gave up. She took a bobby pin, attached a red ribbon to it and flattened it into the side of my head. As soon as we finished we heard a car horn in the driveway. Ma ran to the kitchen. Harriet had arrived.

I pulled the ribbon out of my hair.


                      SIX

Ma had moved to the living room to look out of the sofa sized picture window. I ran in and stood beside her. Mrs. Walkenstein, the social worker was getting out of her car. She went around to the passenger side and stood at the open window talking with the person inside.

"You be on your best behavior," Ma said.

"Ya, ya," I muttered.

"Don't you make me look bad. You show them you got manners," Ma said. I couldn’t get a good look at the woman. Was she the only one who came? Where is her husband?

"Yes, okay, fine!" I said. I ran through the house to the kitchen and looked out that window to see of I could get a better look at the person inside.

"Remember, you be good!" Ma shouted after me. After a few minutes, a woman got out of the passenger seat and followed the social worker up the stairs. The woman had a big bulky purse and a small paper bag in her hand. She threw a cigarette butt on the ground and put it out with a twist of her foot.

The two women walked up the front walk and paused a moment to admire the beauty of our front yard. It was Ma’s pride and joy.Thick rosebushes produced various shades ranging from a deep blood red to a light blush pink lined the street side. Pink carnations and pansys lined the driveway and a tall hedge of lilacs in three shades obscured our view of the cement block company next door to our house. The front yard was a , a cloistered triumph of floral beauty. Although we lived on a main street and it was very busy, many strangers would stop their cars to take pictures of Ma’s beautiful flowers.

Ma called me into the living room as she opened the front door. She welcomed them into the house. It must have looked silly, I was as tall as Ma but was still trying my best to hide behind her. She pulled me from behind her skirt and pushed me in front to face Harriet. There were hello’s and compliments on Ma’s flowers then the four of us stood there for a few awkward minutes before Ma broke the silence.

"I'll get some coffee, come sit on the couch," Ma said. “make yourself comfortable” Patti came in and sat on my lap. Patti and I were sitting on the big wingback chair. The social worker and Harriet sat on the couch. The four of us just sat there looking at each other.

“You have a wonderful green thumb” Harriet said to Ma as she came into the living room and sat on the gold upolsterd chair facing the two women. Patti crinkled up her nose and reached for Ma’s hand looking for traces of green.

“Thank you,” Ma said beaming.

“They’re not green” patti said. That made us all chuckle before slipping back into an awkward silence. Patti started to squirm. I held onto her tightly so she would not leave. I felt better with her on my lap.

The social worker finally started the conversation, "Roxanne, this is your mother, Harriet Migliano-Piper." She smiled, expecting me to say something I guessed.
I said nothing. I kept staring at this woman wondering what to say and dreading what she would say. My insides were flopping around, I could feel a rumble in my stomach, I wasn't sure if I were just hungry or starting to feel sick again. All I knew was, my stomach was not right. 

"I brought this for you," Harriet said, handing me the little bag. "All little girls like Barbie" She parted her large red lips into a huge smile with big teeth.

"Sure," I said taking the bag, "Thank you." How could she be my mother? I knew then it was a mistake. She didn't look anything like me. This woman had sleek red hair pulled up into a bun. Maybe it was dyed, but it was smooth, not kinky like mine. She was tall, at least a head taller than Ma's, 4 foot 11 inch frame. Harriet was a big woman. Ma was plump, but this lady was fat. Was I gonna be big and fat too? I wasn't any taller than any kids in my class.

How could she think that an eleven year-old would still be playing with Barbie dolls? This can't be my mother.  I didn’t like her one bit and was quite sure Ma didn't care for the globs of paint on this woman's face. This woman was white without even a hint of a tan. I watched her brown eyes. She had flecks of green on each side of her pupils. They didn’t look at all like my eyes. My eyes were so dark, there was no way to see if there were any green flecks in them. She didn't have any freckles, not even one on her nose.

"You sure have grown," she said after a few minutes of looking me over. What did she expect, I would still be three days old? I took a quick glance at the Barbie doll, then put it back into the bag and placed the bag at my feet.

Patti's ears perked up at the sound of Barbie's name. She kept trying to reach down to grab the bag. I pulled her close and whisperd for her to “keep still.” 

“Please excuse me, I’ll be right back,” Ma said as she left us alone with these women. That Harriet kept looking at me and smiling like a fool. She was making me uncomfortable, like I was a new dress she looking over.

"Ya," I said. I wanted to sound different than her. She had a slow exact sound to her words. I used my thick Boston voice trying to leave off all the ends of most of my words. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a dirty look from Ma who had returned with a tray full of  cups, spoons and a pitcher of cream.

"I saw your last report card, I didn't like math much when I was a kid either," Harriet said. Ma had sent her a copy of my report card. How could she when we just got this call yesterday? Had Ma known about this for a while? I didn't know if I should be angry or sad. Had Ma kept this woman a secret?

Ma gave me a nudge prompting me to answer Harriet. "Ya" I squeaked out. I wasn't sure if there was a question. My mind was a mixute of half formed questions and empty answers. I was sure, if I could cry, this would be the time.

There should be some connection. I thought somewhere in my heart, I would be able to tell this was the mother I should have. I felt nothing for this woman.

"I'm married now, my new husband, Vinny Piper, He couldn't come over today, he's working," Harriet said. Big deal , a fake mother and a fake father. There was no way I was going with this woman. I wanted this day to be over, and I never wanted her to visit me again.

Ma was aiming for hostess of the year award. She changed into someone I didn’t know, using a clear, trying- too- hard to speak “good English”  voice. That phoney tone, she only used at office buildings. Hostess Ma was busy pushing coffee, cookies, and smiling like they were friends. But I knew the real Ma, she would not like this woman at all. When real ma returned, she would disapprove of this lady.

“Oh you’re married, How nice,” Ma said. Not the real Ma, it was hostess Ma talking. “Would you like to stay for lunch?” Real Ma was a religious woman and clearly would not care for someone who had changed so many husbands. “It just wasn’t decent”, I was sure she would say when these people left and real Ma returned.

"You look like your father" I vaguely heard Harriet say.
Hostess Ma kept smiling and nodding her head. The three kept talking but I wasn't listening. I had spent the night training myself to listen for certain words and phrases, pack, leave, move, visit, live with me, want her, tomorrow,  next week - those were the only words that were of any interest to me. How long I would have before I would leave. My mind split, half listening for the key words and half planning what to do. I would kick and scream. I knew a few really bad words I could throw around. That would make her not want me. I was sure I could show her a "holy terror" as Ma would say. I know later I would get hell from MA, but it was worth it. I was staying no matter what I had to do.

“Vinny and I moved here from Florida” Harriet said. “I think he’s going to like New England.” Move,  the word triggered my ears into listening. What was she saying, who was moving? "I'm going to be living just two towns over, may be you could come visit sometime." Harriet offered.

What, visit, huh? My ears were in full working mode even if my brain wasn’t. I can come for a visit? She wasn't taking me to live with her? She didn't want me. HORRAY! A large weight lifted off my chest. I felt better knowing she wasn't taking me away. I sat in a happy little cloud for a full minute.

Wasn't taking me? She didn't want me?

WELL, WHY  THE  HELL  NOT?

Five minutes earlier, I was ready to put up a fuss if she tried to take me away. But she doesn't even want me, I thought. What was she doing here? Why didn’t she want me?

"Maybe" was all I could manage. I couldn't imagine why she was here. Did she just come to look me over? Was something wrong with me? Was I too short, too fat? Too black?

I didn't know exactly what it was. Had my mother, Harriet just come to see what I looked like? Could it be that she really didn't want me? Or maybe Ma told them they couldn't have me? Did Ma keep me here because she loved me? Would they allow that without adoption? Could they keep me from my own Mother? But she’s not my mother. She can’t be or she would want me. Wouldn’t she?
                                                 
                                        SEVEN

The rest of my meeting with Harriet was a blur filled with grown up chitchat and coffee cups clanging. I sat in a maze of dead ended feelings and thoughts, why she had come, why she didn't want me? I had lost track of Patti she must have gotten bored and went to her room. I found myself fiddling with the upholstery stiching. I was alone in the chair facing Harriet, Mrs. Walkenstein and Hostess Ma who had betrayed me by being so kind and polite to this demon in a lime green sleeveless dress.

Harriet didn't tell me what color or nationality I was. She just kept looking me over and over commenting on how big I had grown and how time had flown bye. She didn't say she was sorry she left me or any of the things I had imagined she'd say. I was waiting for her to ask if I was happy. "Yes, I love living here with Ma and Patti." That's what I had prepared myself to say. But, the question never came. I didn't want to go with her anyway. I'm glad she doesn't want me. I tried to think of pleasant things, anything other than this woman and all the "why" questions her coming here had started.

They finished their coffee. "I think it's time we get going," Mrs. Walkenstein said. The grown-ups all stood. Ma pulled my hand and nudged me to get off the chair.
Walking to the door, the usual pleasant words were said.

"Thank you for having me," Harriet said.

"Anytime, come again," Ma, returned. I winced. No, don't say that, we don't want her to come back! “You bring your husband next time too.”

"I will call you later in the week." Mrs. Walkenstein said to Hostess Ma.

"Good enough." Just before hostess Ma left she pushed my hand forward to shake hands with Harriet.

"Bye" I said, putting out my hand, "thanks for comin’," I managed.
Harriet then did the most disgusting thing. She took my hand and pulled me toward her. No, but it was too late. She hugged me hard against her massive breasts.

Squashing my face against her, she smelled of flowers and cigarettes. It was probably three or four seconds but at the time it felt like ten minutes of crushing bones and smothering, suffocating scents filling my nose.

"I'm so glad I got to meet you. Ya’ll please come see me some time, Okay?" Harriet said as she released her red painted claws from my shoulders. She planted a sloppy red kiss on the side of my face. I couldn’t wait for them to leave. My face was wet and yucky, I wanted to wipe her slobber off my cheek but I knew Ma would not approve. Still, her spit burned. Ma followed them out to the driveway. I hung back a bit, wiped my cheek onto my sleeve, then followed them out and stood beside Ma.

It was Satan and her driver pulling out of the driveway, but I waved as Ma had taught me. I gave them the, sad to see my best friends fade into the distance smile.

" madre de dio, that's over," Ma said in a whisper.

“You didn’t have to keep smiling like she was a friend or something,” I said.

“Rude is never a good way to be," Ma said. Then she added, “Did you see all the make-up that woman had on? You'll never be wearing any kind of trash like that." I did not agree or disagree. I felt nothing, nothing but relief, that the woman was gone and hopefully never to return.

"When did you send that woman my report card?" I asked as soon as the car was out of sight.

"I send a copy to the social worker twice a year," Ma said. "Mrs. Walkenstein must’ve showed her." Ma started to deadhead her rosebushes, life was going back to normal.

I ran into my room, looked in the mirror. There I was, clean and neat in my favorite red dress. It now had a splotch of face powder on the shoulder. I unzipped it and pulled it over my head. I noticed a distinct smell of Harriet. As I threw it in the trash, I knew I would have to find a new favorite dress. That one had been ruined forever.

I went to the living room and turned on the TV. I opened a window to help get out the stale perfume and cigarette smell. I hadn’t noticed the cigarette smell earlier. As I eased back onto the couch, I saw the brown bag Harriet gave me.
"Patti" I shouted. "I have something for you" I handed Patti the bag as she came running in. She peeked inside.

"For me?" She squealed. "Thanks," she hugged me. I was glad to get rid of the evil thing. I hoped it would soon be naked and it's hair chopped off in wild chunks.

Ma came inside and we had lunch. I was a little surprised, Harriet had stayed only an hour. I wondered what I had done to turn my mother off. I took a bath, I was clean and had my old favorite dress on. What didn’t she like about me? She said, I looked like my father. Was that it? Did she hate him so much she couldn’t look at me? I wished I could find out. I spent hours looking in the mirror trying to figure out what was so awful that my own mother, the woman who gave birth to me didn't want me.

Ma and I didn't talk much about Harriet's visit. I felt guilty for even thinking of leaving Ma. How could I, for one minute think of wanting another mother? Ma was my mother.

I did overhear Ma talking about the visit. "Who did she think she was, coming here and getting that kids hopes up like that?" Ma would say to any adult that would listen. "She's been married four times" Ma never said any of this directly to me. "What right does she have coming here?" I didn’t understand everything she said. "She wasn't married to the father, never said anything about him." Every time I tried to wear a skirt that was a little too short, Ma would tell me, “just like your mother.” Ma never gave any explanations on what she meant when she said things like, “you’d better not end up like that.” I just listened to the comments and tried to piece it all together. "Probably met him on some corner.” I didn’t understand but I’ll never forget the comments. When I get older, I’ll understand.

The part I would never understand was, what was the reason for the visit? Did she just want to look me over? Was there something about me she didn't like? Why didn't she ask me to live with her? I was too black, too skinny, too short, too...something. As days passed, the questions changed into, why didn't she call me again? If she lived a couple of towns away, why didn't she want to see me again? Didn’t she feel any connection? My insides bubbled with… I don’t know what. I just felt quesy, uncomfortable and tired for days.

I couldn’t sleep very well. My dreams were full of crazy images of doors slamming, people laughing, babies crying and bald Barbie dolls. I didn’t want to go, but to know that your real mother had seen you, lived just a few miles away and just didn’t want you. Well, that was…sad. I called her a loser, but now I knew, I was the loser.

It was the mid seventies and the TV was always saying that women should go to college and have a career. Ma permantly stuck in 1950, drilled into me that “a woman wasn’t successful until she got married.” Harriet had a job and had been married four times. There was nothing wrong with her, she was successful.  There had to be something so wrong with me. Something so awful that my own mother, the woman who gave birth to me didn't want me.

I knew I wasn't as pretty as some of the other girls in my class. The girls who were in the school play every year. They were the ones chosen as cheerleaders, hostesses for school functions. Those were the pretty girls and I knew I would never be one of them. Some kids were spelling bee winners and math whizzes, their names and scores proudly posted on the school bulletin board. Then there were the girls so good in sports or dancing that they were in the town newspaper.
I wasn't pretty, wasn't good at sports, didn’t take dance lessons and never got good grades. I guess there wasn't much of anything in me that a mother would want. I simply didn’t have any of those talents or skills. There was just nothing in me that a parent would be proud of. There was no use trying to be…anything.

After meeting Harriet, hearing the phone filled me with fear that it may be for me, jealousy that it was not, and the realization that it never would be. Wonder, hope and fear were feelings I struggled to bury deep in a treasure chest heavy with insecurity, quashed dreams and abandonment. I guess deep down, I always knew I wouldn’t ever be adopted.

After Harriet, I stopped the useless hope, and useless dreams. I realized I can't change things. For now, Ma and Patti are my family. Maybe someday I would have a family of my own, a place where there was no question that I belonged, a place where I fit, a family that felt I was worth having.

Someday is a long way off when you're eleven.

THE END