Looking for Home

by Chris Allen

I turn the thin white page of my new yellow book and continue reading. “Martha will never solve the mystery”, I read, as my father seemingly listens. It’s the third night that my father and I are living together in his new apartment in Alameda. It’s a simple sized apartment with two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a small living room.

Considering we just moved in, there isn’t much furniture around the apartment. There is a new refrigerator, a few white cushioned chairs, and new beds. No nice black television set that used to sit in my old room in Berkeley. No small black VCR that sat below my old television. No antique mahogany lamps that resided along the walls, in the old house. Since we haven’t purchase a new television yet I can’t watch my favorite cartoon shows, The Powerpuff Girls and Rugrats. The only way I can temporarily survive is with the power of reading. My grandmother recently bought me a variety of long, intricate books to read in an attempt to revolutionize my current hobbies and habits because I hadn’t been the most studious 3^rd grader in my old class, at my old school.

The clock strikes 9 p.m. and I know what that means. I’m only 9 years old so I do indeed have a bed time. I run into my new bedroom anxious, to put on my new spaceship pajamas. As I ease into my night clothes the phone rings in the kitchen.

“Hey mom”, answers my dad.

It must be grandma.

“Grandma, grandma!”, I yell as I sprint to the kitchen.

My father hands me the warm white phone. The phone is somewhat high up so the cord dangles right above my forehead. My grandma and I ramble on. She was my caretaker, despite the fact that I have two satisfactory parents in my life. She is my father and my mother all in one. An ordinary, older, laidback African American spiritual woman. The courage of a lioness, and the compassion of an angel.

My muscles start to tense after standing in one spot for 45 minutes talking to my grandma about my new pajamas, new residential area, and starting my new school the next day.

“Goodnight, love you much”, says my grandmother

“Love you too”, I reply in a tired voice.

I slowly pace myself into the new bathroom. As I brush my teeth, with my old toothbrush, I begin to think of these words turned into concepts for me. Old and new. Going to a new school, living in a new house, having new friends in a new city. Then there’s the old house, the soon to be old friends, the old school. I am skeptical about this word, new. Maybe new would be better for me. I begin to cry because I miss my mom and I know that things won’t be the same without her. She insisted that I live with a male figure for a little while, possibly a permanent change.

All of this thinking gets my mind off track and I accidentally brush my teeth until my gums slightly bleed. I spit the thick white and red foam from my mouth. Thinking about my now old life. My old room with its light green walls, the video game consoles in the closet, the fact that my light switch was too high up for me to reach. All of these things that I will miss from my old life.

“Son, get to bed”, says my dad, walking closer to the bathroom.

“I’m not really tired, can we read more?” I reply in an innocent voice. “You can be bold and read to yourself for once” he says

Reading by myself, what will be the point of that? I only read to him so he can notice my grandiloquent vocabulary. I jump into my new twin sized bed with my new NFL bedspread. I pull back the huge cover and the thin sheets and position my body for what I thought would be hours of reading adventurous books. Before I know it I am asleep with 5 books in my bed and one book still in my hands.

That night I have an interesting dream. In my dream I am involved in a car accident with a group of strangers. The car flips over a cliff down into the woods of an unfamiliar territory. I get out of the car barely bruised, but no one else survives. Instead of finding civilization I adapt to the woods and became a man of my own. I hunt for food and create my own shelter. But I encounter a bear. There we are face to face in the middle of the woods. This nine year old wild child and this humongous grizzly bear. An epic battle of the species is about to take place. The bear dashes toward me prepared for combat.

All of a sudden I am awaken by an thunderous thump. I heard hundreds of footsteps scampering through the house and what seemed to be an altercation with my dad and a mysterious voice. I sit up in my bed observing the situation with my ears from my pitch black room.

“There’s a kid here”, yells the mysterious man in blue.

After getting up entirely, I realize that the strange men in blue running through my new apartment are police officers. I see my dad handcuffed and on the ground in tears.

“What’s your name little man?” asks Officer Bradshaw.

His glistening name tag is the only thing I can see with all of the bright lights shining in the background.

“Chris”, I reply, with a crack in my voice.

I have no idea what is happening or why it is happening. I zoned out from the series of questions from the police officer and think about the dream I had. I lived in the wilderness, afraid and alone. Seeing my dad being taken away, I am now afraid and alone. But I realized I could only adapt to what was new. Resembling my dream.

The man in the blue uniform continues to speak as my eyes water to the point where I can’t see. The room gets blurry, and the bright lights aren’t so bright anymore.

“November 24^th, 1991”, I replied to the police officer.

In the corner of my eye I saw a lady conversing with one of the numerous police officers. She’s holding a small brown bag and spoke with a soft tone voice. The glare from the bright police lights causes the lady to have a gleaming outline around her body. Almost that of an angel. It is my grandmother.

“The kid is my grandson, yes”, I hear her say.

Those words of confirmation sound like music to my ears at the moment. I leap up off the ground and walk in her direction. She securely wraps her arms around my head and holds me for minutes.

The police officers continue to raid the apartment looking for who knows what. I step out onto the freezing ledge with my grandma and sit on the stone staircase. There are too many thoughts in my head to process what was currently happening. I rapidly fall asleep in my grandma’s arms.

I wake up in a familiar bed and look at the clock. 7:15 a.m. can that be right?

“You sure you want to go to school?” says my grandma.

I scratch the tip of my nose and gaze at the dark brown alarm clock.

“No”, I reply..

I lay my head onto my bumpy pillow as she slowly walks out of my room. I roll my body over in an attempt to fall asleep for a few more hours.

I wake up again and the clock says 11:00 a.m. The smell of grits and eggs penetrate my nostrils and I immediately get up. My spaceship pajamas are covered in lint from the cover. I step into the hall with caution, watching for men in blue uniforms.

“Grandma!?” I yell as I stand in front of the bathroom.

I get no response, just the smell of the grits and eggs. I fix myself a plate and sit at the table alone. The phone rings, I think it’s just a telemarketer, I wont answer it. Before I get the chance to finish my eggs my grandma walks through the door with a basket full of fresh laundry.

“Good morning sweetie”, she says as she drops the basket onto the floor

“Morning grandmama”, I reply

I think that she is just going into her room to continue reading her daily Bible verses. But she takes a seat on the other side of the table facing my direction

“Last night”, she says

“What about it?” I reply in a nonchalant manner

“Your dad made some mistakes in his life, socialized with the wrong group of people, went down a wrong path. He won’t be with us for a while. Until then I’ll take you back to your mother’s house”

The thought of going back to my mom’s house is a horrifying vision. I think about the old television set that I no longer want to use, the old friends I no longer want to see, and the old house I no longer want to live in. Missing an opportunity for change is miserable.

My grandma takes me back to the apartment to remove my belongings. I fill a duffle bag with my random items.

“Yes, he’s with me, I’m bringing him soon”, says my grandma, conversing with the mystery person.

“My mom?” I question

“Yes, sweetheart”, she replies

I take a deep breath and sigh as I pack my things slowly. My eyes start to water as I reflect on my life situation as a 3^rd grader. Within a matter of days I already had to switch homes twice, and see my father handcuffed and taken away. Too much for a kid my age to grip. All I can think about is sleep.

“Come on son”, says a voice I haven’t heard in a while.

I open my eyes in front of a recognizable house. I grab my bags and force myself out of the car.

“I’ll see you later, I love you” says my grandma

Too tired to reply, I nod my head and wave goodbye. I turn around and walk into the house, two doors down the hall to the left. That’s my room. I heavily drop my bags and lay on my old bed. Not excited to start my old days all over again tomorrow.