Kuporesa:

“Ride on Ki-ing Jee-sus! No man can-nah HINDER THEE!”

St. Claire Renault and Shekinah sang in 3-part harmony with St. Claire switching from the alto part to the tenor note, as she forced the duet to work as a trio while continuing the song that was practiced in choir rehearsal. The red 2009 Ford explorer traveled down Buford Highway and it’s paint job was as shiny and new as any of the 2018 models of Ford Explorers on the road. St. Claire was nothing short of a ‘neat freak’, who incorporated the ways of OCD into everything that she was involved in. Artistic, carefree, and abandoned, Shekinah was determined to make this foster-care placement work. She played the role of a “good girl” in exchange for all of St. Claire’s idiosyncrasies, rules, and misconceptions about being able to sing on pitch.

Her mind reminisced of the day that Mr. Johnson pulled up to St. Claire’s house, in a neighborhood off Clairmont Rd. in Brookhaven. It was trash pick-up day and people had recycle bins out to the curb.

“Recycle bins. You see that?” Mr. Johnson bluntly pointed out to Shekinah. He bore a tendency to fuss at the foster kids like he was their kin. “This is your 5th home in 2 months, Shekinah. You’re lucky to get this one. You know they wanted to put you in the girl’s detention home? But, God.” He used the old churchy colloquialism that her grandmother used to say every time she lived to see another birthday.

“The doctors said 2 weeks, BUT, GOD! That was 2 years ago…Thaaank yaaa!” Mu’dea would always shout. She inhaled Mr. Johnson’s stinky cologne and loved him for this good talkin’ to that he had been fussing out through almost 2 hours of Atlanta morning rush-hour traffic.

“Yo mouf….yo mouf….yo mouf. Shekinah, don’t you go up in this woman’s house smarting off at the mouf. Your grandmother taught you better than that. Don’t bring that foolishness out here to Brookhaven?! I have spoken up for you all that I can. Ms. St. Claire is well known at her church and in this community. Go in there and get involved with the choir and maybe you can lead a song on their next album.” Mr. Johnson brought up the same point that he’d mentioned about 15 minutes ago and then again about 15 minutes before that, and yet again another 15 minutes before then.

Shekinah spread the thick and stiff raspberry blue bubblegum with her tongue and expanded the goo into a bubble that nearly covered her eyes before it popped and startled Mr. Johnson. POW!!

“Look, Heifer?!” Mr. Johnson spoke totally out of restraint as he caught himself from swerving out of his lane. “Shekinah?! Ouuu lemme hurry up and git you outta my car. I don’t have time for this. Like I said…..go in here with this nice rich lady and STAY. Don’t let me get a call about you giving this woman a hard time. She got money. She doesn’t need your lil’ foster care check. This one could adopt you and pay for college. So, act right and behave yourself.”

“Yes sir, Dontonio”. She called him by one of many ghetto-typed names that she liked to create when daring to refer to him by his first name, Antonio.

Mr. Johnson grabbed her by her dimples and placed his forehead to hers and gritted his teeth as he gave his closing fuss for the day, “I’m not playing with you lil’ girl. Don’t disappoint me. Don’t disappoint yourself. And most of all don’t disappoint your GRANDMOTHER who left a WARRIOR PRINCESS behind who would SAVE THE WORLD!”

Tears welled in both of their eyes as Shekinah recognized the coarse fussing to be the love language of her ethnic culture that spoke volumes of good intention.

“I’m glad you chewed some minty fresh gum, today…’cause the last time you got up in my face…..”

“Git out my car! And don’t slam my door”.

Mr. Johnson approached Ms. St. Claire who stood pleasantly smiling in an open front door to an impressive Victorian-styled cottage with a wrap-around porch. Shades of brown flowed cohesively from the dark Chocolate covered roof shingles to the caramel bodice and the beige and biscuit-shaded shutters. The majestic porch was adorned in candy-like shades of orange that accented the door that St. Claire stood in waving peacefully with the smile of an angel. The door was so bright and orange-candied that it almost looked red as it complimented the mahogany wood flooring of the porch that could take you on a tour of the entire yard.

‘OMG’ Shekinah thought as she took a long sigh of relief. ‘I know she got clean bathrooms! I can tell from the front yard that everything inside is new and updated. Hot dog!! I done hit the LOTTERY!!! Yeeaaa buddy….it’s time to act right, now. Yes! A real home. Everything I ever…’

“Baby, can you talk? I saaaaiiiiddd, Hello, Precious”

Shekinah was so caught off guard that she slipped up and let St. Claire touch her hair. Shekinah was very sensitive to people getting in her space. Mr. Johnson and her Grandmother were the only people who could cross that line and not get a reflexed swat of the hand.

“Ouuuuu I can tell you have some ‘good hair’…..you must be mixed or something.” St. Claire’s palm stroked atop of Shekinah’s crown to the well coifed bun that was flawlessly brushed to the right side of her head. Shekinah was stunningly beautiful. Post-braces, her teeth were perfect; and her walnut colored light brown skin left one to ponder about whether she was a Latina, a black girl, or bi-racial. Although Shekinah’s dark-complexioned Native-American featured grandmother had convinced her that she was ‘black all day and all night’, Shekinah often questioned that when she considered her mother who was a careered crack-head and the fact that she’d overdosed behind a dumpster at Church’s Chicken on Cleveland Ave. After so many years of her mother’s drug use and prostitution, there was no telling what was really in Shekinah’s DNA.

“Honey, are you that impressed with this little old house? ……or does the red door throw you off? You know, in Chiiiiineese culture a red door means that you’re lucky.” She placed her arm around Shekinah’s shoulder as she escorted her into her new home. “However, I painted my door red because it means that it’s PAID FOR. That’s right. So, before you even decide to open your lil mouth and speak to me, let’s get one thing straight. This is MY HOUSE. I don’t need your lil happy check that they like to send, so that’s going straight into a savings account for your future. And MY HOUSE can become YOUR HOUSE if you play your cards right.”

Shekinah noticed that everything about St. Claire was polished. Not a hair out of place. Even her feet which bore the ugliest corns, were well painted and moisturized.

“My daughter was born with so many birth defects that she didn’t stay on this earth too long past 10 years. And my husband left as soon as he realized that she wasn’t “normal”. She stressed the word normal in air quotes.

Mr. Johnson admired the interior decorating and made faces behind St. Claire’s back as he pointed to portions of the stylish décor and encouraged Shekinah by mouthing his delight. Mr. Johnson made folly and pursed his lips as he modeled a framed pic that read “Welcome Home…Love Resides Here’. His antics and facial expressions behind St. Claire’s back were so silly that Shekinah couldn’t resist and blurted out in laughter and quickly spoke in order to camouflage their malarkey,

“I’m just soooo excited about this place. I mean……there really is a God somewhere looking out for me, huh?” St. Claire bowed her head and closed her eyes as she pressed her face into praying hands that gave thanks to a child that had some religion.

Mr. Johnson mockingly jerked and quickened in folly as his silly gestures made Shekinah feel even more comfortable with this latest choice that he’d made for her home placement through foster-care.

“I’m looking to adopt”. And maybe even relocate to New York to finish pursuing my Broadway career. I’d love to take you with me. I hear you’re talented. I heard that you can really sing.”

Shekinah shrugged in a bashful way as she dissected her cheesecake with the fork that St. Claire had placed in front of her. She also placed some fresh baked chicken wings aside the cheesecake as she took off her oven mitt.

‘Hmmm….dessert before dinner……and it’s barely noon? We might could break a few rules around here, after all….’ Shekinah reasoned within herself.

Mr. Johnson noticed the cynicism on Shekinah’s face and raised a scolding eyebrow and squinted as if he could read her smart aleck mind.

Jee-eeeesz-zus kee-he-eeeep” St. Claire pompously oozed out some interesting notes of the old traditional church hymn while Mr. Johnson’s pupils dilated so hard that it seemed as if his eyes would pop out of their sockets. St. Claire’s back was turned as she attended to the oven and dishes while continuing to loudly crescendo in to the chorus of the hymn in a high-pitched soprano falsetto: “Near-HEEEAAAAR THY CRAW-ooooosssss……Near-Heaaaaarrr..”

“Okay, that’s it for me.” Mr. Johnson hurriedly gathered up Shekinah’s large garbage bag that held all of her life’s belongings and sat it near her at the kitchen table. “I have two more placements today and I’m off to my vacation. I have a plane to catch this evening.”

And without warning, suddenly Shekinah burst into tears and thrust her arms around his waist like a 5-year-old kid. At 13-and-a-half, going on 35, Mr. Johnson was caught off-guard. He’d never seen Shekinah display such child-like despair. In his mind, he’d thought that Shekinah had a heart of steel. He’d watched her sit stone-faced at her mom’s funeral and she seemed to have been ready to go when he arrived to take her into foster care after her grandmother had passed. Why now? Where did these tears come from within this child with a heart of drought?

His cellphone rang and it was his supervisor complaining that he was 45 minutes off-schedule. With tears in his eyes, he lowered his 6’4” frame down to one knee and looked up into her eyes. “I’m only a phone-call away, Warrior Princess. You GOT THIS.” Leaning into a hug around his neck she whispered in his ear,

“Dantonio?.....she’s TONE DEAF. I don’t know how long I can go before I tell her that she can’t sing. She sounds like a llama.”

Choking back instant laughter, Mr. Johnson took her dimples into his right hand and pressed his forehead against hers, “Don’t mess this up, Diva. It’s a good home. MAKE IT WORK”. He kissed the left side of her temple 3 times and hugged her and pushed her away. “She’s all yours, Ms. St Claire. I think we’ve finally found her new home.

As St. Claire gave Shekinah the royal tour of her new castle, Shekinah felt like the luckiest kid in foster-care. A foster home usually meant, at least 3 other kids and a house so small that the sofa might end up being your bed. During an inspection tour, the social worker would be tricked into believing that you were designated to sleep with another child in their room. As soon as you were dropped off for placement, the family entertainment space would double-over into your bedroom. But not here at Chateau St. Claire. This chick was RICH!

“Now you’ll have to earn your keep around here. This is your bathroom and you will clean it. Not just when YOU think it’s dirty…, but EVERY Saturday morning! And when you get your lil period, you gotta wrap those pads and empty that trash daily. This tub needs to be scrubbed with comet… AND Clorox. Now make sure that shower curtain is OUTSIDE the tub and not inside with the shower liner……”

Ignoring her basics of cleaning instructions, Shekinah’s mind floated into the details of the marble tile and how new and clean everything was. It was nothing like her grandma’s old house over off Venetian Drive in South Atlanta. The house was decent on the outside and had one time been considered upper an upper-middle classed black neighborhood. However, 30 years from the time Mu’dea had moved in, there was dry-rotted wood and out-dated wood paneling. Shekinah had literally developed a bathroom phobia due to the plumbing at her Mu’dea’s house. A tree in the front yard had roots that had grown around the plumbing pipes that was causing raw feces to come up through the tub whenever she flushed the toilet. Even if she only did #1, the smelly #2 poop would rise through the drain in the tub. This memory left Shekinah afraid of all sorts of bathrooms unless they were brand spanking new.

As St. Claire lectured, she admired how the railings of the bathroom door fit neatly into the carpet separating the carpet and the marble floor…without any dry rot. She was sure that when she mopped, no chipped paint, roaches, and any other things would be spread around the floor, thus creating a new mess to clean again. This was a real house, Shekinah factored. ‘Real living. No roaches. No awkward neighborhood stench in the air. No thugs and crackheads on the corner. Heck, they even had QuikTrip gas stations out here. Ain’t no QuikTrips in the hood.’ This was the life. And did she mention Broadway? New York? As in Juilliard? Real college? Performing arts college? Shoot….I’m gonna do like Johnson said and MAKE THIS WORK.’

Now, riding passenger with Claire, Shekinah reminded herself of the promise that she made to Mr. Johnson nearly a year ago. Mentally, she counted up the cost as she attended to the blood that dripped slowly from her left nostril. Her face throbbed somewhere around the bony part of her nose between her cheekbone and the inner corner of her eye. This must be how it felt in the cartoons when the pain was big and retracting like a heartbeat was underneath the skin. Her mind kept replaying the flash of Claire’s ring coming towards her face in a quick backhand after she had mistakenly yelled out to her that she was “FLAT”. “You’re off-pitch! God, can’t you hear yourself?!” Shekinah had grown weary of practicing the old Negro spiritual, Ride On, King Jesus. As far as Shekinah was concerned, Jesus needed to go somewhere and sit down if the notes had to sound like Claire was singing them. Aside from the latest foot gear, the box braids, and the best of everything a teen could ever desire, it still didn’t replace the genuine warmth of her grandmother’s love.

Mu’dea was a retired piano teacher and she had a fairly nice voice, too. She often reminded Shekinah that she was blessed to have perfect pitch. “Baby you can hear notes that I can’t even play. God gone do something with you one day.”

“Perfect pitch…..what does that mean, Mu’dea?” “It means that you can’t sing an off note. Baby you ‘bout as good as a pitch pipe. That’s rare. You’re gifted, Tootie….just like your mama was….. until she got a holt of that dope weed.”

Starting to sweat against the tan leather seats, Shekinah’s face was red as she veered into the vanity mirror and applied pressure to her septum in order to stop the bleeding.

She had long dropped the Saint part from Claire’s name; seeing as how she’d proven herself to be far from saintly. She struggled to find solace in the fact that this bloody backhand would result in some elaborate gift that she’d mentioned that she wanted. What would it be today? A Yorkie? A new I-Phone or maybe even driving lessons for the car she had been promised for her 15th birthday? This grand commitment had come after Claire had drug her by the hair for smarting off at the mouth. Shekinah’s hand was dialing Mr. Johnson when Claire quickly blurted, your 15th birthday is coming up. You’ll have your driving permit…..wouldn’t you like that BMW that we saw the other day?” She considered how her last foster-home reeked of dog piss and the father was eternally drunk and staring at her all the time. She thought of all the places she could end up, including the Pine and Peachtree shelter and she opted to put the phone down.

It wasn’t like Claire was doing this every day. Just sometimes. Sometimes Claire lost her temper. And the gifts. The gifts. The gifts…………..the gifts were starting not to matter anymore. Her face hurt. And Claire seemed to just skate right past the physical violence as if it never happened. She acted as if she didn’t notice the blood dripping and talked to Shekinah as if it was nothing. “You know I got tickets to the new movie premiere at Atlantic Station. You know this is the one that Chris Brown is in. Don’t you still like him?” BAM!!

In a flash, a truck had run a red light and their Explorer was impacted into a tail spin. The airbags deployed and Shekinah slipped out of her seatbelt and fell to the ground between her bent passenger door and a telephone pole. She tried to reach back up into the car for her cell phone, but she blacked out.

“Hello……Hello…..Hellooo???? Ewww Girl?! Somebody come get her?!” Sunnycat strutted away from the tub that sat in the middle of her sunflower field. Sunnycat was solid pink with the stripes of a tiger and she bore a gold unicorn horn in the middle of her head. Her striped green tail waved in the air and swung from left to right as she pranced away to get help. Sunnycat had such a strut, that even though she was barefoot, she walked as if she was wearing stilettos.

Shekinah’s eyes opened to the most exotic setting that she could have ever imagined. Her surroundings resembled a cross between an enchanted garden, a tropical island, and the kind of place that might have a yellow brick road. She knew instantly that this wasn’t Atlanta and that she had gotten thrust into another world. As much as she loathed St. Claire, she longed for the familiarity of Brookhaven, Six Flags, Wal-mart and all the other people, places, and things that she was accustomed to.

‘And that smell? Where was that foul odor coming from?’ Shekinah wondered as she sat frozen in what seemed to be identical to her grandmother’s old tub.

She heard heavy footsteps coming through the high rows of Sunflowers as Sunnycat reappeared with an elderly being who resembled a hippopotamus of sorts. As outrageous as an upright hippo in a flowery dress could be, there was something quite familiar and even pretty about this creature that referred to herself as Mama Po. Shekinah felt more calm and relief at the sight of Mama Po than she did with any other aspect of this fascinating environment.

Mama Po wore impressive bundles of long hair that flowed with loose curls that were bouncy and free. Shekinah was about to give her several approving snaps when the visual of her gray and white striped Unicorn’s horn grew out of her forehead and startled the young girl.

“Ewww HONEY?!...That smell!!! Child, is you sitting in a tub of sh…”

Immediately jumping from the tub to her feet, Shekinah turned around in circles, checking to see if the poo was on her clothing. She suddenly realized that it was definitely Mu’dea’s old tub that she was sitting in. What in the world was happening?

“Yeah, it’s on you. Come on down to the waterfall so we can cleanse your mind.” Mama Po tied a purple ribbon around Shekinah’s wrist which served as a leash to pull her along through the maze of Sunflowers which were bowing their head in disgust.

“My mind? It’s not my mind that needs cleansing, but my clothes and my BUTT.” Shekinah smarted off at Mama Po.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Usually people come here thinking like they do in your world. Over here, we have sense enough to know that if you can wash things outta’ your mind, then your entire situation will change. Come on here and get some of that magical waterfall water poured over your head and you’ll be in a brand new outfit and your poo tub that you rode in here on will vanish and stop destroying Sunnycat’s sunflowers.”

“Aaa-men” Sunnycat celebrated with all the snobby arrogance that she could muster up.

“Come on, here. Wit’ ya lil weird pretty self.” Mama Po winked and jerked the purple ribbon with loving gentleness.

Shekinah followed and was amazed as she looked up and saw a flock of colorful parrots circling a waterfall that was changing colors from: red to orange, then yellow, green, pink, blue, purple and then a majestic silver. Mama Po tilted and pressed her horn into the side of the mountain that the waterfall came from and the water turned crystal clear with an iridescent glow. The parrots all turned into solid white cockatoos and found a place around the waterfall to settle. A fuzzy orange monkey walked up to Shekinah and cut the ribbon from her wrist and grinned a smile that bore front teeth that were significantly shorter than the rest of his teeth.

With a heavy lisp, he spoke:

“It’s time for you to see from a new lens, my Sis-star.”

A large butterfly hovered right above Shekinah’s head.

“Now put those glasses, on Girl.” Fuzzy MonKey instructed, as he pointed to the graceful butterfly.

“What glasses?” Shekinah quipped.

“They’re right there in your face, Child?!” The monkey seemed confused that she couldn’t see the glasses.

Sunnycat butted in somewhat impatiently, “They’re right there! Right in front of you!”

Frustrated, Shekinah became teary-eyed and overwhelmed.

Mama Po intervened, “Now, now, my child….that’s the most important lesson. Be careful not to let others intimidate you. People love it when they find out your weaknesses. Now take your time and breathe. Close your eyes and just take a deep breath.” Shekinah closed her eyes and felt the marvelous mystical sun of this exotic land warm her face. She forgot about everything, released her fears, and just trusted the process.

“Yeah, that’s it. Let your shoulders relax, throw your head back and take in these beautiful surroundings.” Mama Po coached her into a place of peace and tranquility.

“Now, open those beautiful brown eyes and reach out and take that butterfly by her wing and slip those glasses on.”

Without quarrel, Shekinah reached for the monarch butterfly and it turned into a funky pair of groovy psychedelic sunglasses that were shaped like a big butterfly.

“Wow! Get outta’ here!” Shekinah could see straight through the mountains and noticed piles of gold and lots of treasures and jewels and crystal walls. Taking another breath, she saw straight over the mountain into an open field where a carnival was in full swing. She saw rides and a big Ferris wheel. There were circus animals, cotton candy, clowns, laughing people, and the works.

“Now come back from looking through the mountain at that carnival and focus on your cleansing in this waterfall” Mama Po spoke from within the iridescent cascade of the flowing water. The cockatoos that were all white, now had turned into several different tropical birds like: a toucan, a pink flamingo, and even an owl was there in an impressive turquoise blue shade.

Shekinah took more breaths and noticed that Mama Po’s image was vacillating from the hippo to her grandmother.

“Mu’dea? Is it you?” Shekinah moved swiftly into the direction of the waterfall, wading through the shallow waters that barely covered her ankles.

“I’m whoever you need me to be, Baby. Just know, you’re in control of your own lens.”

“Ouu Mu’dea, they made me go live with this lady and she……..she beats me. Most of the time, she’s nice but…..I never know when she might slap me or pull me by my hair and…..”

“Now, now….don’t focus on what you think your reality is…..just breathe…..breathe…..BREATHE. Close your eyes and just breathe. Breathe deep and believe.” The cleansing water felt warm and electrifying as in shifted from red to orange. As Shekinah enjoyed the magic of this cleansing water

“Don’t you want some grapes?” Shekinah awakened to being seated in her grandmother’s favorite old recliner. She looked around and noticed that this entire set-up was Mu’dea’s old house from Pinehurst Drive, only this house looked like it was in Brookhaven where St. Claire lived. And nothing was worn-down or ragged. Even the old recliner looked new and the stuffing that once was coming out of the arm of the chair was sealed in without a trace of worn material.

“Sis-star, you betta get some of these grapes before I eat all of ‘em.” Fuzzy MonKey warned as he pulled from a bunch of green grapes from Mu’dea’s good China bowl that she only used for the holidays.

“You better not break my grandmama’s good bowl? I know that much!” Shekinah snatched the bowl from him and popped a few grapes in her mouth. He kissed her three times on her left temple, and she blinked twice as she noticed how much his eyes resembled Mr. Johnson’s.

Adorned in Mu’dea’s favorite dress, Mama Po said, “It’s time for you to return.”

Shekinah panicked, “No! I’m scared that…”

“Ohhh no, Babygirl. You faced your biggest fear when you came here in that stinky tub of sewer. You brought your biggest fear to the waterfall. Therefore, the fear of something dirty and foul overtaking you is gone. Return to your land and you’ll find that the stench is forever gone. Every time it gets a little rough, simply change your lens to see the treasure in your mountain and see past your mountain into your happy place. And above all things….don’t forget to BREATHE.”

Shekinah closed her eyes and awakened to Mr. Johnson kissing her left temple three times while she lay in the hospital.

“Mr. Johnson?”

“Girl, why you ain’t tell me that woman was beating you?” He inquired.

“How did you find out? Where is she?”

“Dead! She died in the car wreck, but you’ve been in a coma. I had to go get your things from the house and found your diary. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Cause, I didn’t want to go live somewhere that may have been even worse.”

“Well, here’s the good news. I put in for custody of you after I read your diary. I had to resign from my position with the government in order to do so, but the judge awarded me immediate custody and Power of Attorney over you.

“Well, go ‘head on, Dontonio. You know how much I always wanted to come live with you. You’ve always been my Gay Uncle in my head.”

“Well, Dontonio has even better news. But you have to say, Uncle Antonio in order for me to let you in on it.”

Shekinah laughed, and followed his instructions, “Okay, Mr. Dontonio Johnson, aka Uncle Antonio, what’s the good news?”

“Ms. St. Claire died and left you everything!” Mr. Johnson pursed his lips as he raised one eyebrow in a frozen stare at Shekinah.

“Huh?” Shekinah remembered Mama Po’s promise that the ‘worst is behind you and the best is yet to come’.

“Yes Honey, I had put my house up for sale, downsized into a beat-up car, and was trying my best to figure out how I was gonna raise you. I knew what your grandmother had gone through with your mom and I didn’t know how I would swing it, but I stepped out on faith and quit my job for you. I’m sitting here by your side yesterday and her lawyer showed up here to the hospital looking for me.” Mr. Johnson stopped talking to put some Carmex on his chapped lips.

“Uh huh…?” Shekinah intensely stared at him putting on the Carmex with the impatience of someone who wanted to snatch the little round vial from his hands.

Neatly tucking the Carmex away into his jacket pocket that hung across the room, Mr. Johnson spoke with his hands accompanying his tale, “Well, apparently, St. Claire came in about 6 months ago and signed over her house and all kinds of college trust fund money and investments, and policies naming you as her beneficiary.

“But, God?!” Shekinah mimicked her grandmother’s favorite saying in the same tone that she used to say it.

“But, God.” Mr. Johnson repeated in a matter-of-fact retort.

“But, God. I used to cry myself to sleep at night wondering when I’d ever get a break. The beatings were so volatile until I can’t even be sad that St. Claire is gone. That lady was a monster! Right before that wreck, she had back-handed me in the face and my nose started bleeding.” Shekinah’s hands started to shake as she placed her hands over her face to muffle her cry. I mean, she was tone-deaf. She just kept singing so horribly, and before I knew it, I yelled at her like the choir director does when you’re singing off pitch. I really didn’t mean to be disrespectful. And before I knew it, she did it again, she back-handed me with her ring and it hurt so…..” Shekinah just wept and covered her face.

“It’s actually a good thing you didn’t tell me about her. You kept your mouf closed long enough for that evil to work out for your good. May she rest in peace.” Mr. Johnson put his arms around Shekinah and held her as she cried; and he kissed her left temple three times.