Portia divided the rest of January between school, work, and Penny. For the most part, however, her mind was consumed with Penny.
She took her laptop to work and spent every spare moment researching the adoption process. She called adoption agencies, but they dealt mostly in simple adoptions, not child transfers. She even dropped by a law firm, but they requested a retainer before she even sat down.
Time was running out. The hearing was coming in a week and Portia did not know what to do, so she went to the prison and paid Ramona a visit.
“What do you want?’ asked Ramona.
“I have a really important favor to ask.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“What do you mean, what’s in it for you? It’s about Penny.
“What about her?”
“My mom wants to adopt her.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I mean…I want to adopt Penny, but my mom has to get custody for legal reasons.”
“There’s no way I’m letting that bitch near my kid now.”
“You want her in a foster home?”
“I don’t care where she goes, as long as she’s nowhere near your family.”
Ramona hung up the phone and walked away. Portia sat there until a sheriff escorted her to the door. On the way out, she passed Ramona’s older sister Janelle, but didn’t say hello. However, Janelle didn’t notice Portia. It would be forty more minutes before Janelle reached the front of the line. It would be forty minutes until she found out Ramona already had her one visitor for the day. Janelle’s trip was in vain.
Meanwhile, Portia returned home, anxious about her conversation with Ramona. She made a phone call to Family Services, only to be sent through endless phone queues. Finally, she got Ms. Jaygo’s extension, but had to leave a voicemail message. She was thoroughly defeated.
She went home to Darren and suggested they take a road trip.
"Where do you want to go."
"Anywhere. I just don't want to be here right now."
"Are you hungry?"
Portia nodded.
Darren drove east, catching the Ohio River innerbelt to old U.S. 22. Old 22 was now I-376, the Penn-Lincoln Parkway. It curled through Pittsburgh, headed indirectly out of town. Old steel girder bridges passed overhead as the car sped through the steel city and into the Squirrel Hill Tunnel. The tunnel passed under the city. Its orange halogen lights pulsed to the beat of the music as Portia daydreamed. Maybe Pittsburgh was a city of romance after all.
As soon as they left city limits, the surroundings went from light to dark. The dim light of passing trucks and cars was a welcome escape for Portia. The farther they went, the more curiosity consumed her.
"Where are we going?"
"Someplace special."
"Special? Is this one of your 'Paris in Pennsylvania' moments?"
"Heck no. I got a plan."
Rather than ask questions and get empty answers, Portia watched the world pass by outside. Although he piqued her interest, she figured she'd find out sooner or later anyway. Instead, she occupied her thoughts with Penny.
"I don't know what to do."
"About what?'
"I visited Ramona today."
"That can't be good."
"It wasn't. She doesn't want to have anything to do with any of us."
"What did the social worker say?"
"I got her voicemail, so I just left a message."
"Don't worry, it'll all work out in the end."
"I hope so."
A bright green road sign loomed at the side of the road, signaling the next offramp. Darren piloted the car down the curve. A small gathering of gas stations, restaurants, and hotels sat at the corner. Darren drove by them and headed down the back road.
"Do you know where you're going?"
Darren nodded.
"Hmph."
"Hmm indeed."
A small motel stood by the roadside. It wasn’t very much at all. In fact, it reminded Portia of the Bates Motel. Not exactly what she pictured when Darren said "Someplace special". Still, it was better than nothing.
“Here we are.”
They went inside. A tiny restaurant sat connected to cramped lobby. Tiny glass-topped tables, perched upon imitation brass tubing, were arranged in a small 3x3 grid. Mirrors covered one wall. Bamboo trees sat in each corner, their narrow leaves flicking out into the room. An old black man came out and greeted them.
“Good evening, folks. Are you hungry?”
“More now than ever,” replied Portia.
“Then come with me.”
He placed them smack dab in the center of the room and then went to the back. He returned with a glass pitcher and filled their plastic cups with ice water.
Portia took the folded paper napkin and placed it on her lap as the waiter handed her a menu.
“What do you have?”
“All we do is chicken. We grill it. We bake it. We fry it. If you like chicken, we got that covered.”
Portia nodded eagerly. The waiter went to the corner and sat in a stool, waiting for Portia and Darren to make their decision.
“This is it? This is someplace special?”
“You like fried chicken so I thought I’d bring you here.”
Portia shrugged. “Where did you get that?”
“You said it one night when I first met you.”
“I did? Are you sure?”
“I could’ve sworn I heard you say you liked fried chicken.”
“Maybe you’ve got me confused with one of your other girlfriends.”
“You’re my girlfriend? When did that happen?”
Portia and Darren shared a laugh as they looked over the menu. Finally, they got a fried chicken platter, complete with biscuits and gravy and waffles. Whether it was Portia’s favorite or not, the little restaurant was indeed someplace special. They had the waiter to themselves and he was eager to please.
On the way home, Portia turned the car heater on high and eased her seat back, reclining next to Darren. She reached her hand out to Darren. He held it every spare moment, only leaving her grasp to change gears on the stick shift.
When they got home, Portia plucked little Alex from his living room crib and took him downstairs. She reclined on the couch while Alex lay on her chest. He rested his head against the side of her face. Darren sat next to her, looking on while Alex’s soft forehead pressed into her cheek. She could not help but smile. Life was good.
Portia got out of bed early the next morning, fed Alex and sat in the kitchen with a steamy bowl of oatmeal. Energized by her road trip with Darren, Portia decided she’d make a trip downtown to Family Services.
She waited in line for her turn at the counter. This time, the wait was only thirty minutes. That was a mixed blessing.
“Ms. Jaygo is in the field today. She won’t be back until tomorrow.”
“I have to work tomorrow.”
“Here, let me give you her cell number.”
Without waiting, Portia dialed her cell. The clerk pointed to the sign on the wall that read “No Cell Phones Allowed”. Portia nodded, headed out into the cold and made the call. It went straight to voicemail.
“Hello, this is Aldene Jaygo, I am out of the office today, January twenty-first, but will be in tomorrow the twenty-second….”
Portia left a message. The call was returned in only minutes.
“Hello, Portia? I’m sorry about that, but I always screen calls. What can I do for you?”
“I went to see the birth mother. She doesn’t want to sign the papers.”
“Don’t worry, we can still go to a hearing without her consent. It just makes it easier. Let me call you from the office and we’ll set up a new hearing date, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Great, I’ll talk to you this afternoon.”
Portia’s heart warmed at the thought of a hearing. She could not wait to hold Penny again. Portia missed her so much. She immediately went home to spread the good news. Phoebe was there, dressed in her Sunday best.
“Phoebe, what are you doing here?”
“I invited her for dinner,” said mother.
“That’s right,” chimed Phoebe, “I’m leading choir practice tonight and we’re celebrating.”
“Again?”
“You only have one first time to lead the choir practice,” said mother.
“So we’re celebrating this now?”
“Portia, why can’t you be happy for your sister just once?”
Portia heaved a sigh and went downstairs. She decided, after all, not to share the news of the day’s events. She did, however, join everyone for dinner. Phoebe continued to brag throughout dinner while Portia remained silent and stewed inside. She almost boiled over when Phoebe asked Darren for a favor.
“Darren, do you know anyone who could fix my car?”
“I know all kinds of people. What’s wrong with it?”
“It sputters when I’m at stop lights.”
“That sounds like a simple carburetor problem. I could take a look at it right now.”
“I don’t have any money…”
“You’re family, it’s free.”
As Darren got up, Portia exhaled loudly. Darren shot her a glance, but continued outside with Phoebe. Portia watched from inside as Phoebe leaned over Darren, pressing her body against his. When they returned, Portia returned to her seat at the dining room table.
“Is everything alright?”
Darren shook his head.
“It needs more than just a tune-up. It needs to go to the shop.”
“Could we take it in tonight?” asked Phoebe.
“I guess. You want me to follow you to 27th Street and we could drop it off there?”
“That would be just peachy,” replied Phoebe in a gloating tone..
“Why don’t you have Tracie take you?”
“She’s at work. I need my car fixed now.”
“Yes, dear,” interrupted mother, “Darren’s just trying to help. He’s family now.”
“Whatever.”
“Come with us,” said Darren.
Portia stared at him flatly.
“Come on, sis.”
Portia tagged along with Darren as they took the car to the shop so Jimmy could look under the hood.
“You’re right, Darren. It’s the carburetor, but it’s shot. I’ll need to replace it.”
“How long will that take?”
“Maybe a day or two.”
“I need the car tomorrow. I have to visit my parole officer downtown.”
“I can take you,” offered Darren.
Portia shot him a glance.
“Or Portia can take you, Right P?”
Portia nodded reluctantly.
“It’s settled. I’ll leave it here.”
They returned home, with Portia in the front seat and Phoebe in the back. Phoebe leaned between the seats and butted into the conversation.
“Darren, you’re so great. Portia really doesn’t appreciate you enough.”
“Shut up, Phoebe.”
“You don’t. He’s always there for you, no matter what you do to him.”
“I said ‘shut up’.”
“You need to relax.”
“I am relaxed. Just be quiet.”
Phoebe did quiet down, but it was just as they dropped her off at church. Portia opened the door and let Phoebe out. When Phoebe pushed on the seat back, Portia pushed against her the slightest bit, giving a subtle amount of resistance., Still, Phoebe managed to squeeze through the opening between Portia’s seat, the door, and seat belt harness.
“Do you need someone to pick you up?” asked Darren.
“She can get a ride from one of the choir members.”
“I think I’ll be fine, but I’ll call you if I can’t find a ride. Thank you, Darren.”
“No problem.”
Portia pulled on the car door, shutting Phoebe out in the cold. Phoebe waved to Darren and headed gleefully inside.
“You have some nerve,” said Portia.
“What?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t see that.”
“Oh, that. It was no big deal.”
Portia simmered throughout the night and into the next morning. Still, she fulfilled her obligation to her sister, arriving at Phoebe’s place just before 8 A.M. When she rang the doorbell, there was no answer. She knocked repeatedly until Tracie finally answered the door.
“Where’s Phoebe?”
“She’s in bed.”
“Wake her up. She’s got an appointment with her parole officer today.”
“You wake her up.”
Tracie returned to bed, leaving the door open. Portia invited herself in and headed to Phoebe’s room.
“Get up.”
Phoebe grumbled.
“You said you needed a ride to court. Here I am. Let’s go.”
Portia pulled on Phoebe’s blankets, dragging her out of the bed. Phoebe rose to her feet and stumbled into the bathroom. As usual, Phoebe took her own sweet time in the bathroom. Portia knocked, but Phoebe was busy. Finally Portia barged in.
“Get out!” shouted Phoebe.
“You’ve been in here for a half hour.”
Portia squeezed between Phoebe and the wall, making her way to the toilet. As she went to the restroom, Phoebe continued to preen in front of the mirror.
“I’m not like you. I take the time to look good.”
Phoebe fidgeted with her purse as she bent over the sink to apply her eyeliner. Portia finished up, flushed the toilet and stood up. As Portia shimmied around the sink, she bumped into Phoebe’s purse. Its contents fell onto the tile floor.
“Shit,” said Portia. She bent down and picked up a small vial of white powder as she cleaned up the mess, Phoebe attempted to snatch the vial from Portia’s grasp, to no avail.
“Is this what I think it is?”
“It belongs to Tracie,” said Phoebe.
“No it doesn’t. This is yours.”
“No it isn’t.”
“Then you won’t mind…”
Portia unscrewed the lid and tapped the vial with her fingernail, emptying the white powder into the commode. Phoebe’s eyes grew wide with anxiety.”
“I knew it,” spat Portia.
With a flush, the powder was gone.
“You should come with me and Darren to one of his N.A. meetings. They’ve got people to help you with your problem.”
“I don’t have a problem.”
Phoebe shoved the remaining things back into her purse and rushed out the door. Portia followed her to the car.
“Yes, you do need help.”
“You go to a few meetings and suddenly you’re the expert? I really don’t need an amateur’s opinion.”
“You just started a new job…at a church.”
“Let it go, Portia.”
“At a church, Phoebe.”
Phoebe slammed the door as she got into the car. They rode to the courthouse without saying another word to each other. However, Portia did go inside with her sister and waited quietly outside the Parole Office during Phoebe’s meeting. As noon approached, Portia knocked on the door. The P.O. answered.
“I’m Phoebe’s sister Can you let her know I have to be at work at noon?”
Phoebe poked her head around the corner.
“Give me the keys.”
“What?”
“Give me your keys. You can take the bus.”
“Why don’t you take the bus?”
“I have errands to run. I’ll pick you up after work.”
Portia deposited her car keys into Phoebe’s outstretched hand and went to work. When Portia’s shift ended, Phoebe was nowhere to be found. Portia walked home. Her car sat in front of the house. A long mud stripe and matching scratch ran down the length of the passenger’s side door. Portia stormed into the house.
“Where in the hell is Phoebe?”
“How should I know?”
“Wasn’t she here earlier today?”
“Yeah, she left the keys on the kitchen table and took off with Tracie.”
“She wrecked my car.”
“She couldn’t have. She would have said something.”
Portia marched to the window and pointed outside. Her mother put her hands on her hips and paused thoughtfully for a moment. Then, she casually pointed to the damage.
“That could have happened any time.”
“It wasn’t there this morning.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mom…I’m positive. Quit taking her side.”
When Phoebe finally did show her face, she admitted her guilt, but offered no solution. Instead, she told Portia how her license had been suspended and she didn’t have insurance.
“You should pay for this.”
“I’m not paying for anything.”
“Damn it, Phoebe. I should turn you in.”
“Your insurance will just skyrocket if you do. It’s your car.”
“You’re paying or I’m calling the cops.”
“What if I loan you my car while they fix it?”
“And you’ll pay for the repairs?”
“I’ll arrange something with Jimmy.”
No matter how reluctant Portia was to lose sight of her car again, it was her only real option. She followed Phoebe to the Body Shop and they left Portia’s car with Jimmy. Phoebe gave her own car keys to Portia and Portia dropped Phoebe off at home. Portia returned home and immediately hid her keys in a vase on the shelf next to her bed in the basement. She decided she would not tell anyone, including Darren, where she hid them.
She went to bed and had a fitful sleep.
.
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