I
chose a battle of water as an offering to the god of diet and nutrition, and then we sat at an outside table.
We were right at the center of a busy
intersection. There was a constant stream of traffic going by the fast-food restaurant and a continuous flow of traffic and people coming to it and leaving it. This was certainly not the mast romantic or private place to meet someone for the first time, but for some reason, that was what gave it its charm,
"I have this philosophy as far as being creative is concerned." he began, noticing how I was looking at everyone and everything. "I think you have to be in it, to feel the rhythms of real life. You can't hide out behind those high walls and hedges all your life and do anything good.
"In other words," he said.
"I'd
be here even if I didn't have to be. At least, once in a while." he added with a smile.
"The hamburger is as delicious as I've had in fancy places," I said and he laughed.
"How's life at the palace?"
"My mother is still in the hospital.
I
haven't been there yet today:"
"Oh." He thought a moment. "I didn't mean to interfere.
I
guess I could have met you there. I just assumed you had come back from visiting and--"
"No. I was visiting my uncle instead." I said. "Your uncle is in the hospital too?"
"He's in an adult residency near Boca."
"Oh?
Is
he that old?"
"It's not that kind of residency. It's for people who can't live on their own."
"Really? What's wrong with him?"
'He suffers from manic depression. He was in a clinic for years and years and then improved and was placed in the residency. Some day I'm going to get him out of there," I declared.
"Is he your mother's or your father's brother?"
"Mother's."
"Your house is as big as a small hotel, isn't it? Why wouldn't she want him to live with you if he could?"
"She doesn't think he can."
I
said bitterly, "but she's wrong."
"Well, isn't your mother a psychologist? Shouldn't she know better than you?"
No It's--"
"-- complicated," he finished for me. "I know,
I
know." "No, you don't know."
I
flared.
"Why is it all the other students at our school, especially the girls, believe they have a monopoly on emotional and psychological problems? I call it the 'No one has it as bad as
I
do' syndrome,
"Poor Massy Hewlett can't control her weight. She never met a bonbon she didn't like, Poor Brigitte Sklar hasn't found a decent hairdresser. and Tina Olsen? If Tina doesn't get her mother to let her go to Aspen the next spring break, she'll nun away from home. Not to mention Natalie Alexander's crisis over zits,"
I laughed and then, looking critical, said. "So you listen in on our conversations? Everyone thinks you're bared to death most of the time and couldn't care less about anything anyone says."
"That's true. I am bored to death. but I'm not deaf, and to tell you the truth, it gives me some moments of amusement."
"I'm glad you think that's all we are, moments of amusement. My mother is always telling me that rich or poor, emotional and psychological baggage is still
a
serious problem.
If
someone makes a mountain out of a molehill, it's still a mountain to him or to her."
"Very charitable."
"If you can't be compassionate, compassionate with everyone, you can't be a good doctor or a good psychologist or anything that has to do with helping people. Heyden. Don't be so smug just because you have a normal life," I snapped.
"Normal?" He laughed the hardest he had.
"Well. I don't know much about you, except what I've heard on the rumor network."
"And what have you heard exactly? Go on, tell me." he urged, seeing my hesitation. "It's okay. I'm a big boy and I have the skin of an alligator."
"I know your mother's Haitian."
"And practices voodoo," he said,
"Really?"
He laughed at how quickly I believed what he said.
"No. but
I
enjoy fanning the flames of stupid prejudice. My father is a jazz musician. He's away from home twenty or so days a month. I have a sister who is studying to be a terrorist, I think. She's fourteen and goes to public school here. She already has a record some of your hardened urban criminals would envy. Last night I found ecstasy pills in her room. I flushed them down the toilet and didn't tell my mother, not that it would do much good if I did tell her."
"Why not?"
He looked away a moment and was so quiet. I thought he wasn't going to explain. But then he turned back to me, his eyes smaller, darker. "You ever wonder if animals get reincarnated as people? You know, you look at someone and say he or she reminds you of a bird or a hog or something?"'
"Yes,"
I
said smiling.
"My mother is definitely a reincarnated ostrich. Her head is buried so far down..."
"Oh."
"I'm sure there is a psychological term your mother could apply."
I nodded and said. "I'm sorry."
"I'm tired of being my father, know what
I
mean?"
"I think so." I offered. but I really didn't. I had few if any adult responsibilities and was fighting to be given some.
He smirked and then turned it quickly into a smile. "Anyway, why talk about depressing things? All that does is depress you."
I
was happy to agree to that and ate another French fry. We just stared at each other for a long moment. I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. Why was
I
here? How interested in him was I really?
"What?"
I
finally asked.
"I don't know if you have the time, but I'd like you to hear a song I wrote far my guitar.
I
thought of everyone in that school, you'd be someone who might appreciate it. Not that I'm saying I'm that great or anything."
"I don't think I'm any authority on the subject. but I would like to hear it very much," I said.
"Okay. I'm not far. Actually, just a block down and to the left.
I
walked here rather than take my moped."
I
glanced at my watch. By now Miguel and my mother were surely wondering where I was. It was unlike me not to let them know where
I
was going, especially when I had Mommy's car. I thought about calling on my cell phone. but
I
knew they would be upset and would want me to come to the hospital immediately or go home immediately. Better I call them after I hear Heyden's song, I thought.
"I'm ready." I announced, taking my last bite of my hamburger. "Great."
We got into Mommy's car and
I
pulled out of the parking lot. "First time I've ever been in
a
Mercedes," he said.
"It's the only car I've ever driven. It's my mother's car. My parents want me to get a job before they'll get me my own car."
The nerve of them." he quipped.
"Actually," I said. "it's not that important to me."
"As long as you get to use this when you want, huh?"
"I don't, but for some reason, I've lost interest."
"That's just temporary. You're going through something. You'll snap out of it."
"Yes. Dr. Reynolds."
I
said, and he laughed.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm no one to give anyone advice. That's for sure."
"Now who sounds like he's cornered the market on suffering," I said.
He raised his eyebrows. "Wow. You're tougher than I imagined."
I
smiled to myself, thinking, finally a compliment I really appreciate.
-
Here it is." he said, nodding at a duplex. "Joya del street."
"Very funny,"
I
said. Actually,
I
was flattered he knew so much about me already. Obviously. I had been in his line of sight for some time. Was I simply oblivious or was he that good at hiding his intentions?
Before we reached the front door, it flew open and Heyden's sister came charging out. She was almost as tall and lean as he was, but with a darker complexion, short licorice black hair, and what were at the moment blazing coal black eyes.
"You were in my room again!" she screamed at Heyden, stepping right up to him and putting her face into his. "You went through my things again and you took it You're not my father! You have no right to do that!"
"You shouldn't be playing with that stuff?" Heyden yelled back. "And you certainly shouldn't be bringing it into the house."
"I hate you!" she cried, barely taking note of my presence. "I wish you weren't my brother."
"That makes two of us." he said.
"You'll be sorry soon," she threatened, and then she smiled so coldly, it even put a chill in my body. "You'll see," she added and charged past us.
"Elisha!" he screamed after her. She just kept going, her head dawn, her arms tightly crossed tinder her small breasts, crossing the street and gone before he could call out to her again.
"Damn," Heyden muttered. He looked at the front entrance. "Better go inside," he said. "I have a bad feeling,"
It was a small apartment, the living room being the biggest roam, the kitchen not much bigger than our pantry closet. The furniture looked ten years past its retirement, and the rug was worn thin enough to see the wood floor beneath it in the living room. Some dirty dishes were piled next to the sink, and a partially filled coffee cup with what looked to be morning coffee was on the small yellowish table.
"Elisha didn't do her chores again. My mother is still at work," he said. She takes as much overtime as she can get."
"What does she do?" "She's a chambermaid at the Breakers, so we have a lot of hotel soap." he added bitterly.
He walked slowly through the kitchen to the hallway and paused at an open door. I saw him bring his hand to his forehead and then lean against the doorjamb.
"Damn her to hell." he said. "What?"
"Look for yourself."
Slowly I stepped up beside him. There, smashed to pieces on the floor of his bedroom, was his guitar.
3
Parental Concern
.
With his guitar broken. Heyden was unable to
play and sing his song. I offered to listen to it anyway or at least read the lyrics, but he was too despondent. "It won't be the same. Another time," he said, picking up the pieces.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Me, too." He paused and looked at me as if he were first realizing I was there in his room with him. "You're lucky your only brother is so much younger than you. You won't have to go through stupid stuff like this. You'll be out of the house by then. Me. I'm trapped. I'd leave tomorrow. if I could, and I won't hesitate the moment
I
can." he vowed.
"Wouldn't your mother be upset?" I asked.
"She'd just pretend
I
was in school or something. I told you. My mother would do anything to avoid crying or being sad. People don't mind lying to themselves if it will make their lives easier."
He gazed down at the broken guitar.
"But isn't that what you would be doing by running away?" I asked.
He looked up so quickly,
I
thought he was going to be any at me, but instead, he smiled.
"Now you sound like a psychologist's daughter. How come you can be like that with other people but not yourself?"
"Why do you say I'm not?'
"Because you fume and pout and rage just like the rest of us. At least, that's what you were doing in
the
cafeteria when I spoke to you."
I
laughed and nodded, "You're right," I said "But remember what Miss Foggleman always tells us in music appreciation class: Do as
I
teach, not as
I
do."
As far as I'm concerned, that's the oath of
a
hypocrite," he replied.
He threw the pieces of his guitar into a corner roughly, kicking the splinters into a small pile.
"What are you going to do about this?" I asked.
"Strangle her with one of the guitar strings."
"No. seriously?"
He shrugged and sat on his bed, "I've got some money saved." he said after a moment "I had my eye on a JB Player that's in the window of this pawn shop. You know anything about guitars?"
"No."
"This one is mint with the exception of a small surface crack at the heel of the neck. It has a flame photo top, a maple neck, rosewood fingerboard in a cherry finish. It's in the window for three hundred. I was planning on buying it anyway. I'm using money I've earned as a part time waiter. I'm supposed to be saving for college, but I'd rather have the guitar. College can come later, if at all." he said. 'You don't have to go to college to do what
I
want to do."
"What's that?"
"Write and perform my own songs."
"My mother says a good liberal education gives you the background to do most anything. You have to draw on something when you create."
"I draw on real life," he said with a fierce look of pride in his eyes. "My stuff rings with truth. It's all out there on the street." he said, gesturing at his window. "It's authentic. That's what I was trying to tell you before. You've just got to be willing to listen, to not be so uppity and snobby that you miss it."
"I'm not snobby. My half brothers have cornered the market on all that as far as my family goes." I said.
He nodded, "No, you're not or you wouldn't have met me for a hamburger and you certainly wouldn't be here in this house with me. Can you imagine Stacy Kreskin or Natalie Alexander coming to my house? Well?" he demanded when I hesitated.
"No," I admitted.
"So why did you come?" he followed with a little more aggression than I anticipated. "It wasn't just to see how the other side lives, was it?"
I
stared back at him, shooting my own fiery darts at him.
"I came because you invited me. Heyden Reynolds. and I don't consider myself the other side. If anyone is taking sides here, it's you!"
He stared a little longer and then he laughed. 'That's good," he said. "You do that real well."
"It's not an act. Maybe you are so used to phony girls that you can't recognize sincerity when you see it. I feel sorry for you," I said and started out.
"Hey, wait."
"What?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I was just..."
"Just what. Heyden? Amusing yourself with me, seeing how far I would as or how far you could take me before I would act disgusted?"
I stepped toward him.
"I'm sorry your sister is a big brat and your mother won't face up to her responsibilities and your father is away from it all too much. but I think hating the world is only going to hurt you in the end.
"And that,"
I
added. "is from the psychologist's daughter."
I pivoted like
a
military guard and strutted out, my heart thumping so hard, it felt like it was pounding
a
hole through my back. He came after me and stopped me on the front steps.
"Wait. Holy psychosis. You have a worse temper than I do," he said.
"So?"
"So,
I
meant what I said. I'm sorry if I insulted you in any way, shape, or farm.
I
didn't mean it.
I
apologize!" he cried, his arms lifted.
I
relaxed.
"It's all right. I'm not leaving because of what you said. I've got to be going anyway. My mother and my stepfather are probably on the phone with the FBI by now."
He laughed. "Well, when can
I
see you again?" "I'm in school tomorrow."
"You know what I mean." he said.
"No, I don't. Say what you mean," I ordered.
"Okay. How about coming with me to check out the guitar after school tomorrow and then, since it's Friday night, we'll go have something to eat in a slow food restaurant and maybe see a movie or something?"
"So you're asking me on a real date?"
"Yes," he said. laughing. "A real date. only I can only take you on my moped. No car."
"Don't worry about the car. Okay?"
I
said and continued to walk to my car.
"Okay?"
"Yes, okay. We'll discuss the details tomorrow," I added and opened the car door. He hurried to my side.
"Don't you have to check it out with your parents or something?"
"They are very busy at the moment. Stop worrying about it, and thanks for the fast-food dinner."
I got into the car. He stood there holding the door open and looking in at me.
"What?"
I
said.
"You're about the prettiest girl in that school. You know that?"
"No."
"Well, you are. I'm just surprised you're not with one of the rich Palm Beach boys that hover like arrogant roosters over the hens."
"I'm not."
"Why not?"
"Some day I'll tell you," I said.
"Tell me tomorrow. 11aybe I can turn it into a sang." he said, and now
I
laughed.
"I bet you could." I said, inserting the key in the ignition.
He leaned in before closing the door and kissed me quickly on the cheek.
"Bve," he said and closed the door. Then he turned without seeing my look of surprise and walked back to his house, his shoulders slumping as soon as he reached the first step. I waited. He paused, turned back, flashed a smile, held up his hand, and hurried inside,
As I pulled away. I saw his sister walking slowly up the street, her head down. She glanced my way when I reached her, and in that face I saw more pain and fear than the rage she had been wearing before. I felt sorry for her even though she had done a very bad thing to Heyden. I knew he would be upset with me for feeling that way. but I couldn't help it.
I
was my mother's daughter after all. And I couldn't help that. either.
.
Mommy and Miguel had been very concerned about my whereabouts and let me know as soon as I arrived at the hospital.
"You don't call to let us know where you are and you don't show up for dinner? Why?" she asked. "Where have you been. Hannah?"
He stood to the side, his arms folded, staring at me and waiting.
"I met someone for a quick bite, a hamburger, that's all."
"You met someone? Who?" she followed.
She was sitting up. When I had stepped out of the elevator.
I
saw the nurse carrying little Claude back to his nursery. so I knew she had just breast-fed him.
"A boy I met at school."
She looked at Miguel and he shrugged.
"Well, why didn't you tell Miguel anything about that?"
"It all happened so quickly."
"It all happened so quickly?" she parroted.
"Besides, Miguel was gone long before
I
returned from school."
"That's true," he told my mother, but then he turned to me. "Why did it take so long for you to come home? I waited for you so you could go to the hospital with me."
"I went to see Uncle Linden."
They were both silent.
"I would appreciate knowing when you go there. Hannah," Mommy said.
"Nobody told him about Claude. You said we weren't going to leave him out of anything, but no one bothered to call and let him know what was going on. He didn't even know you were in the hospital!" I fired back at her.
"I told you we were going to tell him. I thought I explained how complicated it can be. Hannah. What did you tell him exactly?"
"I told him Claude was barn and that he had to remain in the hospital longer because he was too small,"
"What happened then?" she asked.
I
saw Miguel move closer to the bed in anticipation of my response. I had no idea why, but it put a trickle of ice down my spine.
"He... he got confused. He said things that made no sense, and then he got the way he can be sometimes."
"How?"
"You know, staring at nothing, not listening."
She looked at Miguel, who shook his head slowly.
"What things did he say that made no sense?" she asked.
"I don't know. things. He claimed he gave you books or information on giving birth and that you weren't taking good care of yourself. He mentioned Daddy's name, and when I asked him what he had to do with any
of
this. Uncle Linden said 'Nothing.' It was just confusing."
'What did you do?"
"Mrs. Robinson came out and talked him into going in for a rest and I left."
"Goad." she said. She looked like she relaxed, and Miguel's posture softened as well. 'So where did you meet this boy? Who is he? Where did you go to eat?"
"I met him at school, Mommy. Where else would I meet someone?"
"There's no reason to be irritable. Hannah." Miguel said. "Your mother is asking you a simple question, taking interest in what you do and whom you get to know. There's nothing wrong with her doing that, is there?"
"No," I muttered, even though to me it sounded more like
a
police interrogation.
"So?" she followed, her arms folded under her breasts. "Tell us."
"His name is Heyden Reynolds and he plays guitar and writes his own songs. We went to a fastfood restaurant near his home."
"Where was that?" Miguel asked.
I
told them. Neither spoke for a moment.
"You have to be careful in that neighborhood at night," Miguel said.
"I am careful.
I'm
not
an
idiot," I shot back,
"You don't have to be an idiot to find yourself in a difficult situation." Miguel said softly.
No one wants to attach a ball and chain to you. Hannah." Mommy said. "We're just concerned for your welfare. That's all. Especially now." she added.
"Why especially now?"
I
asked, looking up at them quickly.
"Well, for one thing." Miguel said. smiling. "you've become a rather beautiful young woman. Your mother and I have discussed this many times. We've been anticipating lots of male interest in you, and we want you to have a wonderful social life without any of the problems that can ensue."
I smirked. Sometimes Miguel's calmness was irritating. I thought. Sometimes you need a show of emotion. I hated the feeling that I was being handled. Miguel didn't often resort to what I and my friends called Teacher Talk, words that seemed to come directly out of
a
textbook. but I couldn't help feeling he was doing it now.
"And for another thing
I
am going to be quite a bit busier and more occupied because of little Claude." Mommy added. "I don't want to neglect you and miss something important. honey."
"Right," I said and looked away, tears simmering beneath my lids. You've already missed something important, I thought. I've grown up, and you still think I'm eight years old or something.
"You know, you marched in here without asking how your little brother is doing." Miguel said softly.
No one gave me a chance to ask," I shot back at him,
He nodded. "Maybe so," he said generously. "Well, the doctor was here a little while ago and told us he was doing better than they had expected and he might not have to be here as long as they had anticipated."
"Good," I said.
"Oh honey!" Mommy cried, holding up her arms. "Let's not have any arguments or
unpleasantness now, not now when we've all got so much to be thankful for and happy about. okay?"
I
nodded and went to her. She embraced me, kissed my cheek, and stroked my hair.
"What sort of a young man is this Heyden Reynolds?"
"Mommy, I just met him for a hamburger. We didn't get engaged!"
She laughed.
-
I know. I know.
I
was simply curious, that's all. It reminds me of when I started seeing boys as not just the other species." she said. and Miguel laughed.
I
felt the walls come down, my defensive attitude slip away,
"His mother is Haitian and his father is a jazz musician who is hardly home. He has a fourteen-yearold sister, but she doesn't go to our school. She gets in trouble a lot, and he bears the brunt of it."
"Oh. Sounds like he has to carry a great deal of emotional and social baggage," she said.
"He does, and he doesn't have many friends at school. He transferred in for his senior year. Because of his father's traveling, they have had to move about a great deal."
"Well, be careful about how much you get involved with his problems. Hannah."
"You get involved with other people's problems." I reminded her.
"Yes, but your mother is a professional, trained and schooled in how to do that without it seriously impacting on her own life." Miguel said.
"I thought von wanted me to be a
compassionate person," I told Mommy. "You're always telling me to empathize, to feel the other person's pain so I can understand him or her."
"I just don't want you getting into anything too deeply. Hannah. Sometimes, we get ourselves into trouble even though we have every good intention, and we find ourselves trapped by our own decency and charity. It's all right to feel sorry- for someone, but its not all right to let that burden your own life. It's like someone who can't swim well trying to save someone who can't swim at all... the result is usually both drowning. What good is that?"
"I can swim."