Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“My aunt was in tears once I got finished. You have to remember that I hadn’t told her the half of it. I felt like… you know, if I tell the truth, maybe all of this could be over. The folks in that room looked like ghosts once I got finished. One teacher even walked out, like it got to her real bad. See, I believed my aunt when she said if I speak up, I could make a world of difference, and the police would arrest her. The meeting was called to an end, and they said they’d do an investigation. I didn’t know what that meant, but when we got in the car, Huni was so upset. She was yelling and crying. My uncle went to the police station, told them the extra stuff I said, and they said it was still my word against hers, and that I may have been coached. They both hit the roof.
“So, we left from there, Kage, and I remember cryin’ in the backseat of Aunt Huni’s car. Just bawling my eyes out. I was just a baby, practically, but I understood by that time what was going on. I had told the truth, the full story, and I still wasn’t believed. My uncle was driving us back home, but then he made a U-turn. I remember them fussin’ and fighting about something, but he was cussin’ in Filipino. I wasn’t fluent in it, so I didn’t understand everything they said, but I knew that he called my teacher a ‘bitch,’ and some other stuff, too.
“He pulled up to this pretty little yellow house, made me and my aunt get out of the car. He rang the doorbell, and low and behold, Mrs. Stamford came to the door. She looked completely flabbergasted. My uncle played it cool, and told her that we just wanted to apologize for the allegations, and that he understood what happened now, that I was a troubled child. He said we talked in the car, and he was going to drop the charges. My aunt stood there not saying a word. I was so shocked at what he said, I just stood there. Frozen. Ms. Stamford ended up smiling big and wide, and inviting us inside.
“We went in and sat down on her pretty couch, in her pretty livin’ room, with her pretty and perfect lamps, carpet and framed pictures. Ms. Stamford was talkin’ about my troubles, how much she loved me, and forgave me. Then she had the nerve to pick up her Bible and read from it. To this day, I remember it… Philippians 4:6-7: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.””
Poet sighed as the memories assailed her. She began twisting and pulling on a handful of grass, until she’d yanked it all from the earth. “She then asked if it was okay if I had some cookies and lemonade she’d just made. I couldn’t believe it, Kage! It was like being stuck in some nightmare. My uncle said yes, and she came back with the lemonade pitcher, a plate of cookies, a lemon and a knife on a tray.
“She set it down on this decorative table, and started slicing up a lemon right in front of us. She squeezed the juice in the pitcher, looking at me practically the entire time. I remember feeling like cryin’, but I didn’t. When life gives you lemons… My uncle started asking her questions about the day I got whipped, sayin’ he was going to get me a therapist, so he needed to know. She lied. Deferred. The typical stuff. I then realized that my uncle was up to something.” She laughed dismally. “Whatever plan he had, it didn’t work. She ain’t fall for it. He must’ve been watching too many detective shows.
Then, we got up to leave. We started headin’ towards the door, and she said, ‘It must be hard raising a Black child when you don’t understand her, or how to take care of her. I bet poor Poet would not have had these problems if she had a Black family to raise her, Mr. and Mrs. Bacunawa, but I’m sure you’re doing the best you can. Black children can be difficult. They’re not as bright or self-aware, and they’re just naturally unruly. Not well mannered like you Asians. It’s noble what you’ve done, but she really can’t help herself. That’s the reason why I’m against cross-racial adoptions.’
“Aunt Huni spun around and started cursin’ this woman up one side, and down the other. She raised her hand to smack her, but my uncle tried to hold her back. Mrs. Stamford clutched her necklace as if in shock… It was all an act. I saw the slight smirk on her face when she thought no one was looking.