After my mother died when I was just a little girl, I’d learned that people that claim to care about you can disappear forever. And as I grew older, it kept happening to me repeatedly. A new foster family would take me in and I’d feel like one of theirs, and then pow—I’d be sent off to live somewhere else. Granted, there were several foster families I was thrilled never to lay eyes on again, but I’d had a few that were awesome. But when someone in the “system” decided that I should move on, it was always the same. No matter how much they promised to stay in touch with me, or I promised to stay in touch with them, once I walked out that door it was over.
The phone rang, startling me.
“Hello, Jeannette? How close are you?”
“Sabrina, is that you? You all set and at the ferry, I hope?”
“Uh…” I said, suddenly wishing I hadn’t answered the phone.
A noise erupted from her car.
“Hang on a minute, Sabrina,” she said. A second later I had to jerk the phone away from my ear as Jeannette yelled at her kids. “Tyler Samuel Hawkins, what have I told you about not torturing your brother? Give Jerrod’s turtle back right now!”
A second later Jeannette came back on the phone. She seemed almost calm, but my heart was thumping. “You already on the boat, then?” she pressed.
I gulped, knowing she could turn that temper on me. I tried to put her in the hot seat. “How long till you get here?” I asked, with a little more snot in my voice than I’d intended.
“What do you mean, till I get there? Sabrina?”
I didn’t respond. Her voice rose a notch. “Sabrina, don’t tell me you’re still at the damn house.”
She had no right to yell at me. I tightened up. “You said you’d be here before I had to go—”
She cut me off. “I said I might be there before you left. What the hell? I can’t believe you’re screwing this up, after everything I did to get you this gig.”
Now that was going too far. Even for Jeannette. My jaws clenched and I scrunched my shoulders around my neck while heat rushed into my face. “I interviewed with the lady, I got the gig. All you did was take a message.”
“Yeah, and if I hadn’t,” Jeanette retorted, “Cerise would have taken the damn message and then thrown it straight into the trash.”
I let out a breath.
“You don’t know that.”
“And you don’t know Cerise.”
We let our tempers cool for a few moments, then Jeannette said in a diplomatic, pleading tone, “Sabrina, look, it’s not too late. You still have time if you leave right now and if you don’t drive like an old lady.”
“All right,” I said. I was about to hang up and get going when I heard her voice.
“Wait, Sabrina, wait.”
“What?”
“It’s a long drive to Diversion,” she reminded me, as if the last of my money for a full tank of gas hadn’t sunk that bit of news right into my brain. She continued. “Promise me you’ll call after you get there, before you go to bed.”
“I promise.”
Instead of just taking off right then and there, I went back into the kitchen to say goodbye and check on Ellis again, just in case he’d heard me talking at the front door. He was in the same spot at the kitchen table.
Ellis had been a jazz musician apparently, and though he hadn’t told me the whole story yet for some reason, it was his music career that had caused him to meet my mother. Furthermore, it was their brief encounter roughly twenty-three years and nine months ago that was the reason I existed.
He had his eyes closed while he listed to music on his headphones, and even though I couldn’t hear the music he was listening to, the whole kitchen was filled with a rhythmic and disturbing group of sounds. Once again it made me reconsider the wisdom of leaving, especially for as long as two weeks.
Ellis suffered from lung cancer and COPD, double trouble in the breathing and long-life department. Each breath he took, every inhale and exhale, created a tortured kind of music, a kind of prelude to death which was coming sooner rather than later. As his chest rose and fell, there was a symphonic ocean of noises, waves that seemed to be filled with gravel which crashed then receded on a shore made of tin. But despite his poor health and the scary noises he was making, Ellis gave no indications that he was suffering in any way. His face was relaxed, his eyes closed and soft, a picture of contentment, serenity, and bliss.
I envied him.
I thought about just leaving since he obviously didn’t know I was still there, but as soon as I turned around he spoke. “Ah, daughter, so glad you’re still here.”
He had his eyes open, and he was smiling at me in that way that made my heart melt every time.
As he rested the headphones around his skinny neck and onto his bony shoulders, he looked at me as if I were the most precious thing he’d ever seen. He waved me over and I stepped closer toward him. “There’s something I meant to give you for the trip.”
I was close enough to him to catch faint sounds of a Charlie Parker riff under the wheezing. I waited to hear more, even though in the back of my mind I was thinking about the long trip to the ferry and how Jeannette would be royally pissed if I missed it. “Uh, Ellis, I actually need to get going—”
“This will only take a second,” he said.
I shrugged. “All right, what is it?”
“See that cabinet over there?” He pointed to some cabinets to the right of the stove. “Inside, there’s a box. Bring it here.”
In a place where most people would have pots and pans, I found a cardboard box. I brought it to Ellis, who opened the lid and spent a few moments digging around inside. Finally, he pulled out an object and handed it to me.
I drew my hand back as an unexpected static shock went through my fingers. “Ouch.” I shook out my fingers as my eyes open wide. Ellis’s pupils dilated with glee like a mischievous child. “What is it?” I asked, still getting over the painful shock.
“Try again,” he said.
I rubbed my feet back and forth to ground myself and made another attempt to take the bag. I didn’t get a shock that time, but my breath quickened.
“What is it?” I asked as I turned it over in my hand. The fabric was old and faded, but there were places where some of the bolder colors remained, mostly hidden under some beads. Deep oranges, greens, and reds were dyed onto the animal skin cloth as bold designs which look vaguely African zigzagged around it. Macraméd into the embroidery were stunning beads, some made of metal, or bone, or stone. But it was the fringe at the bottom of the bag that intrigued me almost as much as what was hiding inside it. Tiny brass bells in the shapes of human skulls hung from each strip of leather fringe, and as I moved the bag they seemed to sing to me.
“Wow, it’s beautiful,” I said, at last, remembering that Ellis was sitting there, as I pulled hard with my fingers trying to undo the knot that kept the mysterious contents out of my reach.
A cool hand grasped my wrist, pulling my fingers away from the drawstring. “Don’t open it now, Sabrina,” Ellis said. “Wait till you got time to appreciate what’s inside.” I saw him glance over my head at the clock. “You best be going.”