White Oleander

I pulled out the letter that had arrived that morning from my mother, unfolded the scrap of notebook paper. At least she was paying attention now.

 

Dear Astrid,

 

Wasn't Uncle Ernie bad enough? No, you had to locate the most detestable kind of creature to attach yourself to. Don't you dare allow her to seduce you. All Ernie wanted was your body. If you possess the slightest hint of common sense, RUN from this woman as you would a flesh-eating virus.

 

Yes, the patriarchy has created this reprehensible world, a world of prisons and Wall Streets and welfare mothers, but it's not something in which one should collude! My God, the woman is a prostitute, what would you expect her to say? "Stand up for your rights "? You’d think, as a black woman, she would be ashamed to lick the master's boots, say it's Whitey's world, make the best of it. If she was a Nazi collaborator, they'd shave her head and march her through the streets. A woman like her is a parasite, she fattens on injustice like a tick on a hog. Of course, to the tick, it's a hog's world.

 

You’d think any daughter of mine would be far too intelligent to be taken in by such ancient offal. Get Germaine Greer's The Female Eunuch, read some Ai. Even your tragically limited local library must have a copy of Leaves of Grass.

 

Mother.

 

Mother prescribing her books like medicines. A good dose of Whitman would set me straight, like castor oil. But at least she was thinking of me. I existed once more.

 

The smell of that pot on the sullen air was driving me crazy. I watched the boys around the yellow car enviously. I would normally go out of my way to avoid boys like that, gangly, pimply groups bonded by crude comments and a posture of entitlement. Reminding me of their ownership of this world. But Olivia would not be afraid of them. She would make magic there. She knew what they wanted, she could give it to them or not. Did I have the nerve?

 

I turned to the mother of the child playing with Justin. "Could you watch him a second? I'll be right back."

 

"I'll be here," she sighed, stubbing out her cigarette in the sand.

 

I carried Caitlin across the grass to where the boys clustered around the car. A man's world. I saw myself as they would see me, as Ray saw me, a tall pale girl with long floating hair, a shy smile on my big lips, my legs bare in summer cutoffs. I hitched Caitlin up higher on my hip as I came near, they were all watching me. I glanced back to see if Justin's keeper was looking. She was busy putting sunblock on her kid.

 

"Mind if I have a hit?" I asked. "I've been babysitting all day, I'm desperate."

 

A boy with skin that looked like it had been grated handed me the joint. "We saw you get here," he said. "I'm Brian, that's PJ, and Big Al. And Mr. Natural." The boys ducked, nodded. They waited for me to introduce myself, but I didn't. I could give it to them or not. I liked that.

 

The pot wasn't first class, not like Ray's, which you could smell right through the Baggie. This smelled like burning straw and tasted dry and brown, but it was sweet as sunshine to me. I sucked in the smoke, turning my head away from Caitlin so she wouldn't get stoned. She squirmed in my arms but I couldn't set her down, she 'd be under the first car that drove by.

 

"Wanna buy some?" The boy named PJ had dyed his hair blond. His T-shirt said Stone Temple Pilots in orange psychedelic writing.

 

I had three dollars in my pocket, for ice cream for the kids. "How much?"

 

The others turned to the chunky boy, Mr. Natural, seated in the passenger seat of the car. "Five a gram," he said.

 

I switched Caitlin to the other hip, the bad one, took the joint from the Stoned Temple Pilot. It felt so good to be high. I felt the lid of the pencil-gray sky lift and I could breathe, I didn't dread the rest of the afternoon now. "I have three."