That Girl Is Poison (14 page)

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Authors: Tia Hines

BOOK: That Girl Is Poison
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Chapter 16
I sat on the park bench for hours. I watched people as they walked by in business suits, some thugged-out, others lost just like me. Yeah, I was sitting looking dumbfounded, confused and scared. I thought, and thought, and thought, but came up with no solution. Then it hit me. My right brain kicked in and lent a hand to the left. I remembered the card my uncle had given me and how he'd laid it out that I should contact my father if I wanted to.
There wasn't a better time to make that contact. Of course, you know, I got happy thinking I had just come up with the most brilliant idea. Puh-lease. I couldn't even find the damn card after I had thought of the solution. I searched my bag like there was no tomorrow and had no luck. I searched my pockets and drew dust. I almost cried looking for that thing, but lo and behold, it surfaced. I didn't find the card, but I remembered my daddy's name.
I searched for the nearest pay phone with a White Pages. I found one after passing what felt like a thousand broken-down pay phones. I turned to the
T
section and looked up the last name Taylor. I got to the
J
's and followed the first name James all the way down. I counted each one, and there were about nineteen of them, if I'm not mistaken.
Like five were James Taylor, and the rest read J. Taylor with different middle initials. I tried to remember the middle initial on the card, but I ran a blank. Frustrated yet determined, I searched for my card again with, of course, no luck. It bugged me out because I knew I had the card somewhere among my stuff.
I remember glancing at it the other day.
Oh well, all I had left to do was call the numbers.
I ripped out the page with the entire listing of James Taylors. I stuffed it in my pocket and walked away like I didn't just sabotage the White Pages. I walked about a block to get away from my misdemeanor, picked up a dirty cup off the ground, and pushed that right hand out to work. Yup, I was on the corner begging for change.
I stood at the bus stop for a while collecting from the people coming off and on. Then, once it slowed down, I moved in front of a Dunkin' Donuts. Within three and a half hours, I had six dollars and fifty-two cents in quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies. Figuring that should do, I went to a pay phone and pulled out my list of James Taylors.
I chose my first number, dialed it, and then quickly hung up. I had no clue what to say. I had no game plan whatsoever. I had to figure out how the hell I was going to know that I had the right James Taylor. I stood at a dead end trying to figure out the not-so-brilliant-anymore idea. Then it hit me.
He owns a company,
I thought.
Yes, that's how I'll know.
What were the odds of every James Taylor on the list owning a company?
I got through about the first seven of the J. Taylors, only to find out their first names weren't James. The
J
stood for something else. I continued to call and got a few people with accents. I wanted to rule them out, seeing that they were foreigners, but I had to remember that I had never met my father a day in my life. He could have been any nationality, for all I knew. Therefore, the key thing was to get info about owning a company.
I got down to the last five Taylors and prayed it was one of them. Another time I was counting on the Lord, hoping my prayers got answered.
“Hello!”
“Hi!”
“Hello!”
“Ah, yes, I'm looking for a James Taylor.”
“I told you to stop calling. James has been dead almost thirteen years now.”
“Oh I'm—”
Click
.
I dialed the next person.
“Hello, Taylor residence.”
“Ah, hi, is a . . . James Taylor there?”
“He's out of town.”
I sat on the phone silent, not knowing what to say next. “Oh, okay,” I answered and just hung up.
I called the next number, and there was no answer. The one after that was disconnected.
Then listening to the so-called right mind I had, I called the other number back for the James Taylor who was out of town. I had this gut feeling to just call back and ask more questions. I felt like the call was unfinished. So I used my last fifty cents and dialed the number.
“Hello, Taylor residence.”
“Hi, ah . . . does the James Taylor that lives there own a company?” I asked.
The guy laughed. “Is this his daughter?”
I paused for a second. You know I was smiling from ear to ear. I was stunned. “Huh?”
“Is that you? He said you might be calling. Come on over.”
“Okay!”
I was ecstatic. I jumped for joy. I had found him. I had found my daddy. I was too happy. I didn't know what to do with myself.
I threw away the list after I memorized the address. There was no need to call the remaining numbers. I had succeeded in my search. I was going home to Papa. Until I thought about how the hell I was going to get there. The skimpy change I had collected was gone. I'd solved one problem, only to be faced with another.
Why was it always like that for me? I never got past having a problem. It made me even more upset too because I kept thinking about the money I did have that I didn't save. And I swear I refused to stand and collect more change. I had to get grimy with it. Hey, a girl had to do what a girl had to do.
I flagged down a cab with no intentions of paying. Yeah, I was dipping on the driver, little did he know. I got in and directed the driver to go toward Mattapan Square. I didn't want to give him an exact address because, for one, I didn't know where I was exactly going. I knew where the street was, but it being so long, I didn't know what end I was going to. There was a Mattapan side, a Hyde Park side, and a Dorchester side. I was going to have to check the numbers on the street to see what direction would be correct. For two, I had to jump out ahead of my destination, 'cause you know I was dipping on him.
The ride was long as ever 'cause there were dumb loads of traffic. By the time we got out of downtown, the sun was down, and a quarter moon was glowing in the sky. With the ride being so long, I lost all enthusiasm of meeting my father. I started thinking, What was he going to say? Was he going to be happy? Was I going to be happy? Then, all in one swoop, as we were approaching Mattapan Square, my spirits got a lift. I was ecstatic again. I almost couldn't control my emotions.
“You getting off in the square?”
“No. I'll tell you when to turn.”
“I need to know now. Where am I exactly going?”
The street I was trying to get to was River Street. “Take a right at the light.”
He made the turn. “Am I going on River or Cummings?”
“River. Keep straight. The house is on this street.”
The number I was looking for was six sixty-three. I looked to see if the numbers were increasing or decreasing. The numbers looked to be increasing, so I was on the right side. My eyes lit up as I spotted the house. Oh, I just knew I was about to be rescued.
I prepped myself for the run by changing the use of my footwear from slippers back to sneakers. I jammed my swollen feet inside my too-small sneakers. I strung them tight and prepared for the aches and pains I was about to experience.
I made the cab driver pull over farther down the street by some brick buildings. He read the price off the meter. I pretended like I was looking for my money, and in the midst of my search, I opened the door, put one foot out, and then asked, “Do you have change for a fifty?”
As soon as he put his head down to look, I hopped out of the car and made a dash for it. The driver got out of the car and started chasing me. That wasn't in the script. I kept running without looking back, repeating the same thing over and over to myself.
Don't let him catch you. Don't let him catch you. You better not let him catch you.
I felt him gaining on me. Then I felt a tug at my bag, and it ripped. Oh, man, I couldn't let that stop me. I kept running while stuff was falling out of my bag. The Lord was on my side that night because that man should have caught my pregnant ass. I wasn't running nearly as fast as I could, especially since my sneakers were a half-size too small. I had outrun him though, and I made it to 663 River Street safe and sound.
Before I rang the doorbell, I tried to pull myself together. It wasn't much to do, but I had to straighten up, at least look a little decent. I had to change my sneakers back to slippers because the pain was unbearable. I had to carry my bag in my hand because it was ripped. I had inspected it first to see what fell out, and it turned out to be some underwear, like I could have afforded to lose that.
Anyway, I did what I could to look presentable. I tried to rehearse what to say, but nothing sounded good. I was feeling stupid when I heard myself talk, so I decided to play it by ear. I rang the doorbell quickly then stood stiff as the door opened.
A tall, hefty-looking white man greeted me at the door. I made a face at his appearance like,
Uh-oh, wrong house.
I had to make sure though.
“Hi, I'm looking for James Taylor.”
“You must be the daughter. I talked to you on the phone, remember?”
“Ah . . . yeah.”
“Well, come on in. Make yourself at home.”
I walked in the house and followed the guy down a long hallway that led to the living room.
“By the way, I'm your daddy's friend, Bubba. I noticed you were looking at me like,
‘Who the hell is he?'
I'm house-sitting for him.” He laughed.
I smiled back, not knowing what to say.
“I would have done the same thing. Don't be embarrassed.”
I smiled again then pranced around the living room glancing at everything in sight. I just knew I was home. The house was decent. The living room was carpeted. It had a love seat and a roundabout couch. I thought there would have been some photos, but the walls were bare. I had no idea what my father looked like, which was sad.
“So your dad is away on business, and I'm house-sitting. He'll back some time in the morning. Are you here on break?”
“Break from what?”
“You know, school.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I went with the flow. “Ah, yeah.”
“You hungry?”
“No. No, thanks.”
I really was, but I didn't want to seem greedy on my first visit.
“Don't be shy now. I got some hot dogs cooking up, and I got some cheese and chili to top it with.”
“Okay.” I left the answer open-ended so, when I did decide to get my grub on, I wouldn't seem desperate.
“You can sit down if you like. Take your jacket off and stay awhile. You're in good hands, trust me. Make yourself at home.”
I took my jacket off and got comfortable on the couch. Surprisingly, I wasn't even scared in this stranger's presence. I don't know if it had something to do with being pregnant, the fact that I had found my father, or that I just didn't care anymore. It's funny to me though, now that I think about it. I was in the presence of some 280-pound guy that I didn't know, and I wasn't scared. It must have been that I was overwhelmed with the anticipation of meeting my father. Yeah, that's what it was. I just knew I was in good hands.
Bubba showed me to the shower after I dug into that bomb chili cheese dog. That dog was out of this world. The bathroom was set up with a separate tub and shower. That was a new sight for me, and I was loving it. My pregnant, smelly behind couldn't wait to utilize the shower. I took a long, hot one too. I was well overdue for it. I couldn't believe I had gone a day without bathing.
I stayed in that sauna for almost an hour. After that, my eyes grew heavy, and it was bedtime. I was in no mood to talk to anyone except a bed. Bubba showed me to the couch, which let out into a bed. He let me see where he was sleeping at too, which was in the spare room two doors down the hall from the living room. The couch bed with no pillow was cool. It didn't bother me none. As long as I had a place to lay my head, I was good to go.
I woke up the next morning to the smell of scrambled eggs and pancakes. Bubba was up bright and early cooking breakfast for himself. My stomach immediately turned sour.
“You can help yourself to some breakfast. There is pancake mix and sausages. I ate the last egg.”
“Thank you, but no thanks.”
I got up and went to the bathroom, where I hurled. My morning sickness was a killer, and the smell of eggs didn't make it any better. On top of that, I didn't really have an appetite in the morning.
I came out of the bathroom refreshed, and I overheard another male voice in the kitchen with Bubba. I walked in slowly, not knowing what to expect, but having in mind that it was possibly my father. The unfamiliar face looked at me, and I gave him a strange look.

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