married.”
Rachael shook her head. “Was your mother a Negro?”
“No. She was white.”
“This is so crazy.”
“Let’s go in before our food gets cold. We can talk more about it over dinner.”
Walter was waiting for them when they got back to Marie’s apartment after breakfast the next morning. Karen was in the car. The three girls talked the entire way to St. Charles. They talked about Marie’s background, how Karen and Marie met, Marie’s estranged husband, and Karen’s current friend who happened to be a man (she refused to call him her boyfriend). Rachael followed suit and talked about herself.
“Mom and I lived on the south side of Chicago, always in some piss-poor neighborhood.”
“Rachael!”
“What?”
“Your language.”
“Sorry. Anyway, I didn’t like where we lived much, but I never really complained. We couldn’t afford anything better.”
“Was it just you and your mother?”
“Not usually.” Rachael rolled her eyes. “I remember when I was pretty small, maybe four or five, being curled up in the corner of my mother’s bedroom—a lot. I would cover my ears with my hands so I wouldn’t hear Uncle somebody-or-other beating up on her. There was always someone I was told to call Uncle in our house. Every one of ‘em drank, and they all had bad tempers.”
Marie cringed at Rachael’s story. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, sweetheart. What did your mom do?”
“Oh, she would get through the beating and just go in the bathroom, clean herself up, and then act like nothing happened. Just like always.”
“Did your mom have a job?”
“She said she did, but I don’t know what it was. She said it was a waitress job, but I don’t…sometimes she would leave late at night sayin’ she was going to work. And she wasn’t always home when I got up. And if she came home and I wasn’t in school, she’d get mad. Well, sometimes. Other times she would say it was nice to come home to someone else in the house. She was pretty messed up. Still is, I guess.”
Marie wanted to show support for Rachael’s mother without condoning or minimizing her seemingly bad behavior. On the surface it appeared once Judy found a place to dump her child, she took off, which Marie couldn’t understand any parent doing. “I’m sure she would have done better if she were able.”
Rachael shrugged. “The worst part was never knowing where we were going to live or if there would be any food in the house.”
“You moved around?”
“All the time. We’d go from one dirty apartment to another, until the landlord kicked us out.”
“Do you have any good memories of your childhood?”
“Nope. Well, there was this one time my mom came into a pile of money. I mean a pile of it. And we moved into this nice apartment in a neighborhood where I could actually go outside and play. She bought me all new clothes. We had food in the fridge. And no grease-ball guy in the house.” A slow smile formed across Rachael’s face. “Mom told me things would be different from now on. And they were—for about a month. Best month we ever had.”
“I’m so glad your mom had the good sense to remove you from all of that,” Karen said.
“She didn’t fit in at Ben’s, you know. Ha! Maybe that’s why she left. To go back to her old shitty ways.”
“Rachael. Watch your language,” Marie warned.
“Sorry.”
Marie tried desperately to find the good in Rachael’s mother. “If that’s why she left, at least she didn’t drag you with her. Maybe she thought you deserved better.”
Rachael twisted up her mouth. “I doubt it.”
“And school, how was school in Chicago?”
“Not like St. Charles. The classrooms were dirty, and so were most of the kids. Some days the teacher wouldn’t even show up, and we had to sit there and twiddle our thumbs until they found someone to babysit us.”
“Not fun, I would think,” Marie acknowledged.
“Nope. Most kids flew the coop every chance they
Rachael shook her head. “Was your mother a Negro?”
“No. She was white.”
“This is so crazy.”
“Let’s go in before our food gets cold. We can talk more about it over dinner.”
Walter was waiting for them when they got back to Marie’s apartment after breakfast the next morning. Karen was in the car. The three girls talked the entire way to St. Charles. They talked about Marie’s background, how Karen and Marie met, Marie’s estranged husband, and Karen’s current friend who happened to be a man (she refused to call him her boyfriend). Rachael followed suit and talked about herself.
“Mom and I lived on the south side of Chicago, always in some piss-poor neighborhood.”
“Rachael!”
“What?”
“Your language.”
“Sorry. Anyway, I didn’t like where we lived much, but I never really complained. We couldn’t afford anything better.”
“Was it just you and your mother?”
“Not usually.” Rachael rolled her eyes. “I remember when I was pretty small, maybe four or five, being curled up in the corner of my mother’s bedroom—a lot. I would cover my ears with my hands so I wouldn’t hear Uncle somebody-or-other beating up on her. There was always someone I was told to call Uncle in our house. Every one of ‘em drank, and they all had bad tempers.”
Marie cringed at Rachael’s story. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, sweetheart. What did your mom do?”
“Oh, she would get through the beating and just go in the bathroom, clean herself up, and then act like nothing happened. Just like always.”
“Did your mom have a job?”
“She said she did, but I don’t know what it was. She said it was a waitress job, but I don’t…sometimes she would leave late at night sayin’ she was going to work. And she wasn’t always home when I got up. And if she came home and I wasn’t in school, she’d get mad. Well, sometimes. Other times she would say it was nice to come home to someone else in the house. She was pretty messed up. Still is, I guess.”
Marie wanted to show support for Rachael’s mother without condoning or minimizing her seemingly bad behavior. On the surface it appeared once Judy found a place to dump her child, she took off, which Marie couldn’t understand any parent doing. “I’m sure she would have done better if she were able.”
Rachael shrugged. “The worst part was never knowing where we were going to live or if there would be any food in the house.”
“You moved around?”
“All the time. We’d go from one dirty apartment to another, until the landlord kicked us out.”
“Do you have any good memories of your childhood?”
“Nope. Well, there was this one time my mom came into a pile of money. I mean a pile of it. And we moved into this nice apartment in a neighborhood where I could actually go outside and play. She bought me all new clothes. We had food in the fridge. And no grease-ball guy in the house.” A slow smile formed across Rachael’s face. “Mom told me things would be different from now on. And they were—for about a month. Best month we ever had.”
“I’m so glad your mom had the good sense to remove you from all of that,” Karen said.
“She didn’t fit in at Ben’s, you know. Ha! Maybe that’s why she left. To go back to her old shitty ways.”
“Rachael. Watch your language,” Marie warned.
“Sorry.”
Marie tried desperately to find the good in Rachael’s mother. “If that’s why she left, at least she didn’t drag you with her. Maybe she thought you deserved better.”
Rachael twisted up her mouth. “I doubt it.”
“And school, how was school in Chicago?”
“Not like St. Charles. The classrooms were dirty, and so were most of the kids. Some days the teacher wouldn’t even show up, and we had to sit there and twiddle our thumbs until they found someone to babysit us.”
“Not fun, I would think,” Marie acknowledged.
“Nope. Most kids flew the coop every chance they
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