The Fifteenth Year

April: Part 3

Tuesday, April 5, 2005

Dear Friend,

I did it. I baked cupcakes and drove (for my temps with my mom's presence, of course) to Harriet's. I had a slip of paper with her address on it and when I pulled up to a stop by the curb my mom peered at the house. "Is this it?" she asked.

"I think so," I said, double-checking the numbers on the mailbox and comparing them to my paper.

The yard was rundown, the fence was teetering lopsided, and the paint was chipping on the little white ranch in front of me. My heart sank a little. I mean, I'm not sure I expected any different. Harriet had said in the past that she and her mom were struggling to stay afloat what with depending on disability for income with her mom being sick and Harriet being too young to work. They're receiving government assistance living on the outskirts of town. This is one of the bad areas in our city. It wasn't the projects, but the crime was bad, the homes were cheap, and these neighborhoods were what gave Lakotans the inability to boast that we're the perfect community to live in. So like I said, I wasn't completely ignorant of her situation, but reality sets in when I'm in the position to see it myself.

"Do you want me to walk up with you?" my mom said nervously.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure I'm not going to get capped in broad daylight, Mom. Run to the market like you planned and I'll see you in an hour." I kissed her cheek and got out, taking the Tupperware of cupcakes with me.

I heard the sound of tires on gravel as my mom drove away. I approached the porch with a deep breath. Was stopping by unannounced a bad idea? What if her mom was napping? What if I was witnessing Harriet having an emotional breakdown? Too late to back out now. I took a couple of knuckles to the dirty screen door and knocked.

A wearied Harriet came to the door and once she made out my image enough to know it was me, her expression turned to shock. She slowly eased the screen open and stared at me.

"Wallace...you're at my house."

"I - uh, I...brought you cupcakes," I said, showing her the container.

"To my house?" She didn't look mad. Just stunned, maybe embarrassed.

"Well..." I looked at my feet. "Sort of."

Harriet smirked. "Well, fortunately for you, we're not cupcake protestors here. Come in at your own risk." She held the door open wider. 

I ducked under her arm and took a look around. There were magazines in a haphazard stack on the sofa, the carpet was discolored from age, and the curtains were drawn (making the dust noticeable and a stuffy air and smell fill the room). 

"I know," Harriet groaned. "You couldn't have thought I was expecting company. I was just about to clean."

"Let me help," I offered.

Harriet stiffened. "Why? Because I'm doing such a terrible job?"

"I didn't say that. Why do you think I'm here? You're doing this all by yourself and I don't think it's fair. I'm in awe of all you accomplish by yourself, Harriet. You're...inspiring."

Her exterior softened. The words surprised her. "Really?"

I took a seat at a kitchen stool and set my cupcakes on the counter. "I wanted to bring you a peace offering and also force you into a corner to show me more about yourself. You keep everybody at arm's length, Harriet. You won't even hang out with me and my friends. And if they're not your cup of tea, fine. Chloe needs to grow on people, and Renee's...Renee. So I mean, I get it. But...you got to let me in if we're going to be buddies."

She pondered my words for a moment and then her lips tipped up in a small smile. "All right. I got you, Wallace."

I smiled to myself at the small victory and rubbed my hands on my jeans. 

"I can't believe you're at my house!" she exclaimed again.

I laughed. "I can't believe you live in the hood and never told me!"

"Oh come on, you knew I lived here. Admit it."

"I...I didn't want to assume anything. I mean, it doesn't seem possible. If you live here...how can you afford to go to Lakota? It's a special program."

"My grandma. Inheritance."

My eyes widened. "It all went to your education? Where you go to high school isn't that important, Harriet. What about college?"

She shook her head. "The schools out here at terrible, Cassie. Kids can't even get a decent teacher in there with all the disruption and lack of students that actually care. They're poor. They couldn't afford to give me the extracurriculars and scholarships that Lakota can. My chance of getting accepted into college increases at Lakota. My grandma believed in me."

"What about your mom? Couldn't the money have gone to..." I realized how rude I was being and bit my lip.

Harriet knew where my words were headed and shook her head. "My mom's health is...not something to be fixed with a surgery or treatment. All we can do is maintain something less than suffering for her until it's time for her to go. The oxygen tanks, the medicines...disability covers that. My grandma and my mom agreed putting money towards something dying rather than something flourishing seemed like a waste."

I smiled. "Sounds like your grandma really loved you. Your mom must be so proud of you."

Harriet nodded. "So...what kind of cupcakes are those?"

I laughed and popped off the lid. "Chocolate. White frosting with caramel drizzle."

"Awesome. Do you wanna, like, play Rummy or something while we eat one?"

So we did.

Harriet moaned with a bite of cupcake in her mouth and laid down a card. "I'm friends with Betty Crocker. Seriously, Wallace, what special ingredient is in this thing?"

"I'll never tell," I said with a sly grin. "About time somebody different around here had a secretive life."

Afterwards, I helped her wipe down counters and spray Febreze in the living room. Apparently she keeps the curtains drawn in all the rooms to help her mom nap. I met her briefly when she woke up. She's in good spirits and a nice lady. When my mom showed up and it came time for me to leave, Harriet walked me to the door and hugged me tight. I was taken off guard and hugged her back. Then without a word, she went back inside and shut the door.

Harriet's coming out of her hard shell, but I know none of this must be easy for her. She's not used to having friends or help. She's trying, and she's a good person. I'm glad she's becoming a friend of mine.

You're welcome, Harriet, I though as I climbed into my mom's SUV.