I'll Always Be Your Friend!!!

The Projects: Part One


I did not answer the door when the pounding started; it terrified me. I'd been left alone for the night for the very first time, and when the door crashed open, I went into hysterics. A cloud of smoke entered first, tinted with a strange bright light. Dark, cloaked figures followed, and they shouted, but I paid no attention.

I screamed, "Please don't hurt me."

Then one of them picked me up and said, "It's okay, it's okay. I've got you now."

His voice, low and soothing calmed me, and I grasped the danger. My apartment building was on fire. The firefighter carried me to a barrier at least a hundred yards away, but I still felt the heat almost to the point of singeing.

The flames rose as high as I could see. The only home I had ever known, along with the apartments of many of my friends, melted away before an onslaught of bright red, orange and yellow monsters. They seemed almost as tall as the city skyscrapers looming five blocks away.

Hours later, the smell of charred wood, even the taste of it in the air, hammered home the fact the fire consumed everything we owned. Every possession, every bit of clothing save what we wore, became a pile of ash.

I sat in shock. My mom, on an overnight trip with my new stepfather, didn’t know. There was no one to comfort me. A woman, who stepped from a white van with a big red cross, draped a blanket around me. Once the fire was out, the bitter December wind cut right through my pajamas.

“How old are you, honey?” she asked.

“Twelve.”

“What's your name?”

“Lisa Lansing.”

“Did you live there very long?”

“Since I was born, I think. Is all my stuff gone now?”

“I’m afraid so." The woman stared at the ruins and said, “But the important thing is you're safe.”

“Sarah was in there,” I said.

“I’m so sorry, was she a relative?”

“No, a special doll. A gift from my best friend, Benji.”

"Where is the rest of your family?" The woman asked.

"My mom's on a trip."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"Yes, but they don't live here anymore."

A firefighter stepped over endless rows of fire hose and picked up a lost little girl, about eight years old. He returned and handed her to a relieved and sobbing mother.

Half an hour later, I thought I noticed the same little girl standing beside the Red Cross van. She reminded me of Benji, so I walked over to her and she darted behind the van, out of sight. As I reached the van and looked around it, the girl disappeared. I thought she giggled. Her hair, her dress, even the giggle seemed familiar.

I looked at my home, now a blackened heap; but I saw my life instead. I watched my neighbors stare blankly at their own lives. The fire destroyed two buildings of the twenty, which made up the west end housing projects of Fort Worth, Texas. However, there existed in them plenty of stories, many happy, most tragic.

One day, I thought, I’ll tell them all.

Benji’s haunting tale came to mind first.
*************


Les hurried to make hot cocoa while reading a note from Mom under his breath. He wadded it up and tossed it in the trash.

“Get your shoes on, Lisa. We’ll be late, I don’t have all day to wait on you," he said.

It was just before Halloween; the wind whistled as it struggled through the cracks of the kitchen windows, a warning of the winter months ahead.

“I can’t find my other shoe,” I griped after looking under the living room sofa.

“It’s right here under the kitchen table. Now get it on; we’ve got to go.”

Les walked me to school every morning then went to his class, if he went at all. He was twelve; I was eight.

At the bathroom sink, I wet my hands and rubbed them over my dark hair to smooth the cowlick that erupted as I slept. I splashed water over my face and looked in the mirror. A brown-eyed girl curled her nose at my freckles. After drying my face, I grabbed my coat from a closet and rushed back down to the kitchen.

“Les, can I go play on the playground when we get home today?” I asked.

He handed me a brown paper sack with my lunch inside. He pulled the door behind us and jiggled it to make sure it was locked. “Mom told me you can’t play there unless I’m with you; I can’t baby-sit you all the time. I have things to do too, you know.”

We reached the corner nearest our apartment. Trash had built up in the street and blocked the gutter at the curb where we stood. Purple pieces of glass from broken wine bottles covered part of the sidewalk.

We noticed two homeless men asleep under torn cardboard against one of the city buildings located across the street from the projects. A swirling burst of wind lifted the cardboard until it hovered above one of them. Then it fell back just as suddenly and hit him in the head.

He arose, and groggily yelled in our direction, “What the hell?”

Les looked back and said, “Shut-up old man. It was just the wind, go back to sleep.”

Les took my hand and pulled me with him as we crossed the street.

I tried again, “Les, Mom won’t care. You can see the playground from the back door, and I won’t leave. I’ll just play right where you can look out and see me. Please, Les? Please?”

“Okay, but you had better tell Mom I was there with you or you won’t get to play there again. Now leave me alone about it.”

After school, the clouds broke up and allowed the sun to peek out. I anxiously bolted out the back door within minutes of arriving home.

I saw a girl about my age alone on the playground hidden between the stodgy red brick buildings. I walked up and sat beside her on the merry-go-round. I immediately liked her eyes, a sky blue, like my mom’s. The richness of color offset her unkempt strawberry blonde hair.

We sat there for a moment and said nothing. Then she turned to me and said, “I bet I can make you throw up, I’m the best at spinning this thing. My big sister even got sick. I’m the only one that doesn’t.”

I looked at her for a second, then said, “I won’t throw up,” and defiantly crawled to the center.

She smiled, said, “Hang on,” and grabbed the bars. She ran as fast as she could, round-and-round.

I leaned back as the world seemed to fly by like the wind. It was great.

“Go faster,” I yelled.

She pushed on the bars and ran hard along side, then jumped on with me. We laughed until it slowed down enough for us to jump off and do it again.

We played until dusk when my sister Kathy yelled for me to come in.

I turned to my new friend and said, “I have to go home now.”

As I was leaving, she asked, “What’s your name?”

I looked back and said, “Lisa. What’s yours?”

She yelled as I ran towards the back stoop of our door, “My name is Benji, I’ll be here tomorrow. Come play with me, okay?”

“Okay!”

In the kitchen, Kathy took a spoon from a mixing bowl as she read from her recipe book, a birthday gift from a nearby neighbor, Miss Lexey, a big, jovial woman who loved to cook. She brought us all kinds of cookies and pies.

Kathy leaned back over the bowl to taste her new creation. It smelled like cinnamon.

“What are you making?” I asked.

She smiled and almost danced over to me with the spoon and held it in front of my mouth. I tasted a sweet mixture of the cinnamon and another spice I didn’t recognize.

“Mmm. It’s good. What is it?”

“It’s cookie batter. I’m making gingerbread and cinnamon cookies for my favorite sister, so maybe she’ll dress up in different costumes for Halloween and trick-or-treat each door three or four times. More candy for all of us that way.” Kathy hugged me.

I laughed. “But I’m your only sister, and besides, I like trick-or-treating.”

Kathy’s hair, dark-brown and long, stretched to the middle of her back. Her graceful posture and calm personality added to her charm. I thought she was the prettiest girl I had ever seen and was proud we were sisters. Boys came to the door often to ask for her; we didn’t have a phone, no money for things like that. My older brothers David and Les, Kathy, our mom and I lived in the apartment. It was small, nothing fancy, but clean.

As I got ready for school the next day, I couldn’t wait to get home and play with Benji again. I had thought about her as I went to sleep the night before. She was eight, the same as me, and small; but there was a toughness about her I liked.

However, it was two days before I got to see her again. I came home from school that day, ran to the kitchen, made a mustard sandwich and raced to the playground. Benji sat on the swings alone with her head down. I was happy to see her and ran to her, but slowed, as I got closer. She was crying, her face red, swollen and bruised.

I sat on the swing next to her and asked, “Are you okay?”

She looked over at me. “My brother Brian is an asshole, I hate him.”

I didn’t know anything better to say, so I offered, “My brother will beat him up for you if you want him to.”

She stopped crying and chuckled.

“Do you want to come to my house?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Brian said I have to stay here; he’ll hit me again if I don’t.”

We sat there for a while watching some of the other kids play. I thought about how my brothers and sister fought sometimes. We argued with each other but usually made up quickly. Our motto was, “The fighting stays between us.” Let an outsider hurt one of us and they had to face the whole clan. Like me, Benji was the youngest in her family. I just assumed hers was the same as ours and she would be better soon.

By the next Saturday afternoon, her face had healed. We played and laughed until I was forced to go home. I asked Mom if she could spend the night with us.

Mom gave me her best look of worry, but then smiled and said, “I guess its okay, but she needs to make sure her mom approves."

Benji ran home to ask permission. Our moms had never met, and I was afraid Benji’s Mom would say no. She didn’t. Benji’s sister Kay came to the door with her.

We had the best time telling ghost stories and playing board games. She stayed with us almost every Saturday after that.

I suggested once, “Benji, let’s stay at your house tonight.”

“My house is too boring, Lisa. I like yours better.” I didn’t care much, as long as we were together.

We were so close for the rest of the school year and most of the summer that followed. My whole family came to love her; she helped with chores and made us laugh.

On the Fourth of July, the City of Fort Worth held its fireworks show in a park created along the Trinity River bottoms. The projects were less than three blocks from the levee that bordered the park. We sat in the swings that night with Kathy and David and watched the awesome display. Explosions resulting in falling fragments of multi-colored lights kept our faces skyward as particles of blue, green, red and gold drifted lazily to the river.

After the fireworks, we went back to our apartment and played with Benji's dolls while David and Kathy sat outside and smoked.

“Lisa,” Benji whispered. “I know you don’t have a dolly, but I have two. I think my blonde-haired one likes you. Her name is Sarah, do you want her?”

I said, “Thank you, Benji. I’ve never had a doll like this before. Will your mom get mad?”

“She won’t care; she didn’t give them to me anyway. She never gives me anything. She's too busy.”

Kay often came over to tell Benji to go home on weeknights during that summer. Kay, about the same age as David, had long blonde hair and a dark tan. She wore cut-off shorts a lot, and Les would get all weird when she came by.

I heard Kathy tell David, “Les has such a crush on Kay. I don’t think I've seen him act like that before.”

“He’s an idiot. She’s a bitch with a mean attitude. She doesn’t even know he's alive.”

Kathy laughed. “Well, I see you stare out the window every time she goes by. Maybe you’ve got the hots for her, too?”

“Shut up, Kathy. You think you know everything.” David glared at her.

I asked, “Kathy, what’s the hots?”

David yanked Sarah out of my hand and threw her on the couch.

“Stay out of this.” He stalked out of the room.

Kathy put an arm around me. “Don’t worry about him baby, he’s in love and won’t even admit it.”

The next Saturday, Benji came to the back door; it was open. Kathy and I sat at the kitchen table. Saturday was washday. We folded towels Kathy had brought in from the clotheslines out back.

Benji spoke rapidly, “Lisa, Kay said I can’t spend the night tonight, I have to get up and start Sunday school in the morning. Can you go with me? You can sleep over at my house and ride the church bus with us.”

I was so excited. I had never spent the night with anyone. I looked over at Kathy and asked, “Is it okay?”

Kathy pulled more towels from the basket on the floor. “I don’t know, Lisa. You have a lot of chores to do, and we haven’t talked to Mom about it. You know she has to work late on Saturdays.”

“It'll be okay; Mom’s always talking about church and how we need to go.”

I moved the folded towels from the table to the empty basket on the floor.

Kathy looked over to Benji. “Why can’t you just sleep here? Can’t you get ready from here and go?”

Benji leaned against the wall and said, “The church bus comes real early. My sister says it’s too hard for me to come home and get ready to go. I may miss the bus.”

Kathy, quiet for a moment, turned to me and said, “I guess its okay Lisa, but you need to finish your chores before you go so Mom won’t be upset.”

Kathy looked at Benji. “She’ll be over later when she's finished.”

Benji leaned over and hugged her. She said softly, “Thank you, Kathy.”

I cleaned the dirty dishes and picked up all the clutter in the living room. I was so elated; I did it in record time.

We didn’t have many clothes. I had one sundress with a stain on it, but I didn’t care. I felt like a big girl getting to spend the night away from home. I packed my bag, grabbed my black dress shoes and ran down the stairs to the living room.

“I’m ready, Kathy. Can I go now?”

Kathy walked me to Benji’s to make sure they were there. Benji greeted us at the back door. She shared a room with her sisters; there was only one bed so we made a pallet next to it on the floor. We talked most of the night, and then fell asleep.

I awoke once to see Benji step over me, and I saw her brother in the room.

“Shh,” he whispered, his tone was hateful. “Hurry up. Come on.”

I curled up and went back to sleep. I don’t know how long Benji was gone, but she woke me crying. I reached over to comfort her. I thought that she had a nightmare.

“Why are you crying?” I put my hand on her shoulder.

“My stomach hurts real bad, Lisa. I think I’m going to throw up.”

We went to the bathroom where Benji leaned over the toilet and vomited.

“Please don’t tell anybody, okay?” Benji asked.

“Tell what, Benji? What's wrong?” I asked.

“Brian,” she whispered.

Then I saw it.

“Benji, there's blood on your underwear."

Benji looked down. The blood trickled down her legs and she began to sob.

“I'm scared, Lisa. He put it inside me this time. It really hurts.”

I remembered the talks I had with Kathy.

“Benji, let’s tell your mom.”

Then, Benji said. “I did, Lisa. I told my Mom before. She said for me to shut my mouth or she would send me to a home if I said things like that again.”

I was confused, but Benji continued, “My mom says we need the money my brother gives her from his job right now.”

I never saw much of Benji’s mom. When I did, she smelled of liquor and never said much.

Benji stopped and looked at me, her face pale. “Lisa, please help me. You don't think I'm going to die do you? I've never bled this much before." She covered her face with her hands to silence her sobs and sank to the bathroom floor.

I sat beside her. “I won't let you die, Benji. I'll take care of you."

She leaned her head on my shoulder and curled as close to me as she could. I wrapped my arms around her and rocked her gently.

She repeated, “Please don’t tell anyone, Lisa."

“I won't, Benji. I won't say anything. I promise.”

I got a towel and cleaned the blood from the floor. Benji removed her underwear and buried it in the trash. She took the towel from me, used it to wash the blood from her legs, and then hid it in the cabinet below the sink.

We quietly went back to the bedroom and held each other until we fell asleep, exhausted.

We met the church bus the next morning. Somehow, none of it seemed to be as exciting anymore. Benji acted like that day on the playground, crying and quiet. You could see the hurt in her eyes. We sat near the back of the bus. Benji stared out the window as we rode to the church.

I held her hand and said, “Benji, I’ll always be your friend. Thank you for being mine.”

The bus turned into a parking lot filled with more cars than I had ever seen. Towering over it stood a huge white brick building, several stories tall: The First Baptist Church in downtown Fort Worth. We went to Sunday school class, and then attended the services. A man in a dark gray suit pointed to the back of the church for all those who lived in the projects to sit.

I asked him, “Why do we have to sit in the back? I don’t think I can see.”

He was nice, but said, “That’s where y’all always sit.”

The preacher talked of giving yourself to Christ and becoming a true Christian. He spoke of all the things God would do to make your life better if you would just give yourself over to him. He would protect you. I remember the word “protect.” At the end of the services, several people lined up at the front of the audience.

The choir sang, “Just As I Am.”

I thought for a moment.

“Come on Benji, let’s go to the front.”

Several people walked by, and I grabbed Benji by the hand.

“Come on,” I said again. “Let’s go become God’s children.”

She protested, “No!”

I yanked her hand and demanded she go with me. We got up, entered the aisle, and walked to the front where a woman stood with a bible in her hand. She asked us to return to our seats.

I held Benji’s hand tightly and told the woman, “No, we want to be saved.”

Benji stood there white-faced, but I was determined.

The woman knelt down and said gently, “Do you understand what this means?”

I replied, “Yes, we will be God’s children and he will protect us.”

She asked, “Do you want to dedicate your life to Christ?”

I said, “Yes, I do.”

She then asked Benji the same thing. Benji nodded.

We knelt with her and recited a prayer.

The woman stood up and said, “You are saved. God has heard your prayers today.”

A warmth spread over me as we walked back up the aisle. I happily looked everyone we passed in the eye. Suddenly they all seemed friendlier. Their smiles, broad and heartfelt, told me I had done something special. Even Benji lightened up and smiled.

The whole bus ride home I thought of telling David, Les and Kathy about being saved. Mom was at work. She worked Sundays to get the extra money needed to feed us. I hoped to tell her when she came home that night.

I looked over at Benji and she stared out the bus window as she did before. In my mind, I felt like it was all going to be okay for her now. I held her hand.

We stepped off the bus at the entrance to the projects.

Benji turned to me and asked, “Can I come to your house for a while, Lisa?”

I said, “Yes, but I have to get my things from your house first. If I don't, I'll get in trouble.”

“My sister will let you in. I’ll just wait at the playground for you."

When I knocked on the door Kay opened it as she was leaving.

“Kay, I left my toothbrush and PJ’s. I need to get them.”

She pushed me aside and said, “I don’t care.” She left through the door and I realized she didn't even bother to ask where Benji might be.

I went in and up the stairs. I grabbed my bag and headed back down still thinking of telling everyone about church. Brian walked in the door. I froze for a second, and then tried to ignore him and sidle past him. He grabbed my arm and spun me around. I trembled as he looked down at me for a long moment. I struggled to find my breath and began to pant heavily. I felt like passing out. He gripped my arm so tightly it numbed my hand.

“Did you like spending the night last night?” he asked with a leer on his face.

I stared at him. “Yes.”

I looked around to see if anyone else was in the room. We were alone.

“Sit down,” he said and pulled me to the sofa with him.

My blood raced and I could feel my heart beating faster. He leaned over and put his hand on my thigh.

“You’re really pretty. How old are you?” he asked.

I pulled away, and scooted back from him.

“I’m eight, and I have two big brothers that can beat you up. So, you better leave me alone.”

He leaned forward, grabbed the back of my hair and pulled me toward him. The room seemed to spin as I tried to pull free. He smelled like an ashtray; something dead emanated from his mouth as he placed it over mine.

I turned my head and cried out, “Leave me alone.”

I kicked furiously, hit him between the legs, and he let go. I ran to the door and out as fast as I could. He yelled, “You little bitch.”

He chased me to the back of the playground and up the slope to my house. I tripped on the sidewalk and slid, skinning my knees and tearing the palms of my hands on the jagged cement. Les and two friends of David’s, Richard and Danny White, were talking at the back door.

I screamed, “Richard.” He was closest to me.

He turned to look as Les burst out the door. Richard and Danny ran behind Les.

As I stood up, Brian grabbed me from behind and hit me with his fist, knocking me down again. He raised his arm to hit me once more but didn’t notice Les.

Les jumped on Brian’s back and forced him to the ground. Brian was a lot older and stronger than Les and stood back up with him still on his back. However, Les was big for a thirteen-year-old and able to keep his legs wrapped around him. With his left arm around Brian’s neck, he punched him with his right fist on the side of the head. Then Danny walked up, took Brian by the collar and slammed his fist in Brian’s face. I heard something crack.

Les let go long enough for Richard to grab Brian’s arms and pull them behind him.

Danny and Les beat him until he didn’t respond, and he fell to the ground.

Les told Danny, “Don’t let him move.”

Danny stood over six feet, weighed two hundred pounds and loved to fight.

He snickered and assured Les, “He’s not going anywhere.”

Les walked over to me. “What happened, Lisa?”

I tried to tell him through my sobs, and I think he caught only pieces of what I said. However, when I told him where Brian touched me, Les looked over to Danny and Richard and screamed, “That son-of-a bitch.” He charged into our apartment.

He came out with a club that resembled a cane, walked over to Brian and said, “Roll him over, Danny.”

Brian, curled on his side and moaning, looked helpless. Les hit him in the mouth with the cane. Blood went everywhere. I was horrified. Brian screamed out with pain. Then Les reached down and pulled his legs straight side-by-side and cracked the cane across both knees.

He leaned over and grabbed him by the throat.

“I’ll fucking kill you if you ever touch my sister again.”

Danny and Richard were considerably older and a little more street-wise than Les. “Come on man, we need to go,” one of them said. “Leave him; there’s people watching.” They pulled Les off Brian.

Les walked over to me where I was sitting on the sidewalk crying. My right hand dripped with blood from the gashes in my palm. He bent down and picked me up to carry me home.

As I leaned on his shoulder and cried, he held me close and stroked my head gently. “Don’t worry Lisa; I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again.”

I looked back and saw the small crowd that had gathered break up. Brian was still lying on the ground. In the projects, no one said much about what happened there. They were too afraid to get involved.

Once Les got me home, Kathy comforted me and convinced me to tell her everything. I broke down when it came to Benji, and Kathy cried too.

Devastated, that night in bed, I thought about everything: Benji, the night before, her crying and the blood – us trying to wash it all away the church, kneeling to pray, and more.

Benji’s brother spent some real time in the hospital. I don’t remember the details of all his injuries. No one said much to me about it, but I caught bits and pieces of conversations.

I heard Danny say to a group of friends, “When that punk comes home we’re going to mess him up again, right guys?”

For some reason, the question seemed more like a command.

I don’t know if what he said had much to do with me at that point. Maybe they were just mad at all the wrongs that had fallen on them in their lives.

The next week, I heard Kathy ask Mom why she never called the police about Benji.

Mom didn’t look Kathy in the eye like she normally did. “I don’t even know if it’s all true and I don't want the police involved over the beating Les gave Brian. Les could go to a home or something.”

Mom kept looking at a magazine with a frown deep enough to wrinkle her forehead.

Kathy gave her a hard stare. “Mom, Les is only thirteen years old, and Brian is nineteen. I doubt they’d do anything at all. And besides, why didn't Brian ever tell who beat him? It's because they'd find out what he tried with Lisa. And if he's tried that with Lisa, what do you think he's done to Benji? Lisa's not lying, Mom. We need to tell someone.”

Mom didn’t respond, and I never heard anyone talk about it again. All I know is my brother protected me, and I loved him for it.

I missed Benji and tried to find ways to see her, but rarely did.

Six months later, a policeman came to the door and spoke with Kathy. He whispered something to her, and she stepped outside and closed the door behind her.

She returned several minutes later with tears in her eyes.

Frightened, I asked, “Kathy, what’s wrong?“

Kathy looked at me as tenderly as I had ever seen. “Lisa, those cops wanted to question me about Benji. They said her sister told them she stayed with us a lot, and they wanted to know if she ever said much about her brother.“

“But why? And why are you crying?“ I sensed something was terribly wrong.

“Honey, they found Benji in a dumpster. She’s not with us anymore.“

“What do you mean, Kathy? How can she not be with us if they found her? Is she okay?“

“No, baby she’s not. She’s gone to be with Jesus. She’s dead. They’ve arrested her brother.“

Nothing or no one could console me. My mom told me I was only a child, and nothing I could have done would have saved Benji. But, in my mind I felt that God should have looked over her.

I told myself he didn’t protect her as I had been led to believe, and I remained confused; because nothing I saw nor heard seemed to fit what I was told on the day I was “saved.” I felt so guilty, and maybe to avoid that feeling, I convinced myself that God had failed her.

David tucked me in bed that night and held me close. “It’s going to be all right, Lisa.” He placed my doll beside me and gave her a kiss, too.

I asked him, “You wouldn’t hurt me like Brian hurt Benji, would you David?”

David hugged me, and tears formed in his eyes.

He said, “No, never worry about that. And I won’t let anyone else, either. Go to sleep now.”

I rolled over and tried to hold back my tears. It was then I lost trust for boys and men.

As much as I loved them and as much as they protected me, I even lost a little for my brothers.

Sometime during the early morning hours I fell asleep.

I awoke just after dawn to hear Benji‘s voice. I even thought I felt her hold my hand.

She said, “Lisa, I’ll always be your friend. Thank you for being mine.”
************


The clacking sound of a diesel engine increased to a roar as the fire truck nearest me pulled away. It forced Benji from my mind.

A few people still milled around the Red Cross van collecting jugs of water. On the other side of the van, the girl I saw earlier peeked from behind it once more.

“Benji?” I asked, though no one was around.

I hurried to the opposite side of the van. Like before, she was gone. Lights, flashing as fire trucks left the projects, reflected off the side of the van. On the ground, in the odd, rotating red hue lay a doll.