Chapter Eight

Progress

Barbara hustled to reorient her life to include a child. The occasional weekend overnights, and the intermittent weekday calls were not the same as the day-in-day-out-make-lunch-school-project-homework-slumber-party existence that she was now living. Still, it was her sister’s kid. Any other arrangement would be out of the question.

Barbara had not noticed until Domini had come to stay for these longer periods of time, just how Tisa’s lifestyle had affected Domini. A generally cheerful and attentive child, with a hug for everyone who wanted one, people gravitated toward her. Unlike her mother, Domini gratefully accepted whatever gifts people wished to give her. But the transient lifestyle, the home-hopping, the uncertainty of even the most basic needs had left its mark in subtle ways.

There was the food issue, for one thing. Barbara had first noticed it at a birthday party. Domini’s school friend was having a princess party. Domini and Barbara arrived at the fancy Berkeley Hills home, well outside of Barbara’s neighborhood, and walked through the giant gates and big doors to find that each party guest was treated to her own tiara, a plastic pearl necklace, and a miniature make-up kit. In the playroom were 8-10 princess dresses from which the girls could choose. The dresses looked as if they might have been collected over several Halloweens or found at a second hand store, but to the party-goers, they might well have belonged to actual royalty. Domini immersed herself in the dress-up activities with the other girls, and Barbara was invited into the living room with the other moms to have a glass of wine.

After some time, a small buffet was set up in the backyard for lunch. Out came the pizza and hotdogs, pretzels, goldfish crackers, crudite, juice boxes, and naturally, birthday cake. The girls took their places at the picnic table set up for them, and after a brief respite which involved pushing as little food past their lips as their mothers would allow before they dove back into fairyland, were back to the dresses, all except for Domini. She cleaned her plate twice, then stayed at the table, guarding what was left.

“Why don’t you go back and play,” asked Barbara.

“Soon,” came the reply.

Barbara turned back to the women and the wine and the somewhat more adult fare of pasta salad with sun-dried tomatoes and cold salmon with dill and didn’t think more about it until crying and shouting outside was heard. A little girl had come back to grab a handful of goldfish crackers, which by this time, had been moved from the buffet table to directly in front of Domini. So too had Domini moved the pretzels and juice boxes to within her reach.

“Mommy,” said the little girl, “she won’t give me any goldfish.”

Domini sat, her arms around the bowl of crackers, her body twisting away from the tiny reaching hands of the other little guest.

“Domini, what’s going on?” said Barbara.

“There won’t be enough for me. There won’t be enough for me,” cried Domini, visibly shaken by the thought that her crackers would disappear.

“Oh, honey, that bowl is completely full,” said Barbara, calmly. “I don’t think she wants more than a handful or two.”

“NO! There won’t be enough. There isn’t enough.” Tears began to stream down Domini’s face.

The confused looks on everyone’s faces, including Barbara’s, finally gave way to attempts at compromise. “Well, Lucy,” said the other mother, “why don’t you have some pretzels instead. I think Domini isn’t finished with the goldfish.”

“NO!” cried Domini again, desperately trying to bring the pretzels closer to her while still holding on to the goldfish. “There isn’t enough to share. There won’t be enough for me.”

“This is ridiculous,” said Barbara. She turned to the host, “I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but I’m not going to indulge this behavior. I’m so sorry.” Then she turned back to her niece. “Domini,” she said sternly, “those are not your goldfish, there’s plenty for everyone, and you’re acting like a little baby.” Then, she removed the goldfish bowl from Domini’s desperate hold and gave it to the girl, who cheerfully grabbed a handful and went back to play without a thought. There was silence, if only for a moment, as the mothers gave one another uncomfortable smiles and waited for the hostess to corral them back into the living room. Then Domini let out a howl and collapsed into sobs.

“Oh dear,” said the host. “You know, I have a whole new bag of those crackers in the kitchen. Maybe I should just get Domini her own stash. It’s really no trouble. I hate those things in the house anyway.”

“Thank you, no. I’ll just have a talk with her,” said Barbara. “I don’t think this is about goldfish.”

At the end of the party, each girl got to take home the dress she had chosen, and was given a princess notebook and shiny pencils in a little pink back with a handle. When they got in the car, Barbara saw that Domini’s bag also contained an unopened package of goldfish crackers.

After the incident, Barbara began overstocking the refrigerator, making sure there was always an abundance of food in the house. She alerted Domini’s teachers to her tendency to horde things, and left with them extra bags of pretzels and popcorn, in case something was needed to calm a situation.

At one point, Barbara noticed an influx of ants in the house. Though their presence was common for Berkeley and Albany homes during the rainy season, they could usually be kept at bay with some Chinatown chalk. When the chalk failed, Barbara began following the trail, which lead to Domini’s room. Every drawer, crevasse, opening, or secret location seemed to be filled with food. Packets of ketchup, mayonnaise, hot sauce, and sugar, pilfered from the various restaurants the two had eaten at were hidden in her underwear drawer. Plastic zip bags filled with half-eaten sandwiches, none of which came from Barbara’s kitchen, were stashed in Domini’s doll box, many of them mildewed from lack of refrigeration. And there was the candy.

Candy was stashed in every hidden location she could find, many of which were also found by the ants: in the bottom of her pencil cup; in her coat pockets and backpack pockets; on the underside of her pillowcase; in dark corners of her closet; in her Barbie case.

Barbara had been told by the social worker that several pounds of candy had been found by the police in Tisa’s room after the neighbor called the police. The social worker reasoned that the candy was there because Tisa had figured out that it was cheap, didn’t need refrigeration and doling it out would keep Domini from bothering her. Or, the social worker said, it could be that Tisa’s drug cocktail made her jones for something sweet. Popular drugs like crystal and benzadrine often gave addicts a sweet tooth. Whatever it was, it was evident that Domini’s link to it was an important survival instinct.

The removal of the contraband resulted in a full scale breakdown of the normally cheerful and obedient child. The situation was bad enough that Barbara required third party intervention from one of the school counselors. The good news was that Domini’s teacher had begun to suspect that Domini was suffering from some form of hyperactivity disorder, but when it was discovered that a good part of Domini’s nutrition was coming from sugar, it cleared up a good number of unanswered questions.

There had been an ugly period of withdrawal, which had pushed Barbara to her limit. The pleas from Domini that she needed it had been tough, but her mother’s tirades against Barbara during their visits made the situation worse. A little candy wasn’t going to hurt anyone, said Tisa. Barbara was subjecting Domini to torture and Tisa was sure that no other mother would be as horrid as Barbara. After a couple of months made to feel like years, Domini settled in to her new, slightly more regimented life, which included whole grains and meat, and vegetables. And, as a compromise, Domini was allowed to have a special box in the kitchen where she could put things she thought she might need later. Eventually, the box was no longer needed.

School had, at least at the beginning, also been a challenge. Although Domini’s teachers adored her, they all had concerns about her development, both intellectually and socially. The social worker had suggested a meeting with them, and they informed Barbara that Tisa’s living situation had seriously handicapped Domini’s progress, as compared to her school mates. Moving Domini around to 5 schools before she had even started the 2nd grade and missing so much school, generally had made Domini social and self-sufficient, but had also left great holes in her education which were now manifest. It was going to take a lot of work, they said, to get her up to speed. They also advised that now – while Domini was still young – was the time to do it. If she were red-tracked next year, she would have an even more difficult row to hoe.

“You tell me what I have to do, and I’ll do it,” was Barbara’s response.

“This is a very great thing you are doing, Barbara,” said one of Domini’s teachers. “It’s not going to be easy, you know. When I say that you have to work with her, it’s going to mean a real time commitment, away from television and other diversions. You’ve got to bring up her reading skills and her math comprehension.”

“You tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it.”

So they worked. Domini was at first merely compliant and Barbara had been satisfied with that, but over time her attitude toward the tutoring sessions turned into a thirst for everything she didn’t know. Without coercion, Domini immersed herself into what ever new project her school or Barbara put before her. She enjoyed the accolades from her teachers and the praise from her aunt, and she couldn’t wait to visit with her mother and show her the gold stars and check-plus marks on her papers. She breezed through spelling tests. She got an A on her science report on George Washington Carver. By all accounts, her teachers and counselors said she was flourishing in the stable environment that her aunt had provided. Even Domini’s grandfather had good things to say about her development. Domini had taken it upon herself to learn about colleges. She announced one day to Barbara that she was going to go to Harvard, be a veterinarian, and live with her best friend in San Francisco. They would have a dog named Newton.

Even Tisa was proud of her daughter, though reserved about her praise. She knew at some level that education was paramount to her daughter’s success, but it also meant that she was moving further from her mother. Tisa saw Domini’s new interests and friends as creating a rift between them and she didn’t like it. She knew her complaints would appear selfish and self-serving so she was careful to limit them to justifiable issues.

There were complaints, for instance, that Domini never got to watch television, like other kids. There were offhanded remarks that Barbara was sacrificing Domini’s heritage for her pedigree and turning Domini into a white girl. There were subtle attempts to bolster Tisa’s own accomplishments in life and underscore her lack of formal education.

None of it was credible, but it was effective, at least to some extent. Domini was smart enough to understand that her mother’s perspective was unusual, but Tisa was still Domini’s mother. She was still inextricably tied to the increasingly remote idea that she could have a real mother, whose opinions counted and whose advice was heeded. Cognitive dissonance set it each time Tisa tried to undermine Domini’s progress. Barbara made it a point to alert the teachers to any family visits so they’d be prepared.

“Where’s your boyfriend,” Domini asked Barbara one day as they were leaving the Center from a visit with Tisa?

“What do you know about boyfriends?” said, Barbara, pushing aside the question.

“I know you don’t have one.”

“Well, I don’t have one because I haven’t met the right person. You have to be selective, Domini. And, well, I’m picky about who I let come around the house.”

Domini considered the answer momentarily and said, “Mama says that you should always have someone who can take care of you. She says it’s more important that going to college.”

“Hmm, well, I’d say it’s nice to have someone take care of you, but nothing is more important right now than going to college right now. Because college allows you to take care of yourself. Anyway, even if we do need people sometimes, it doesn’t have to be a boyfriend. It could be family, or a friend. It could be anyone.”

“No, mama says it has to be a man, a boyfriend, to take care of you. She says that you will always be taken care of if you have a man. And know what else?”

“What else,” said Barbara, with a heavy sigh.

“Mama says that you can tell if a man is going to take care of you if he gets you things.”

“Mmmmm.”

“When are you gonna get a boyfriend?” said Domini.

“Well, right now, my primary concern is you, and you don’t leave much time for getting a boyfriend,” said Barbara.

“I can take care of myself,” said a mildly defiant Domini.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that!”

The two drove in silence for awhile as they headed back to Barbara’s place for dinner. Then Domini piped up again.

“I have a boyfriend.”

“You? You’re only in second grade. How is it that you have a boyfriend?”

“All the girls do.”

“All the girls do?”

“Well,” said Domini, “all the girls that are cool do. Some of the girls, you know, like the gross girls, they don’t have boyfriends.”

“What qualifies a girl as ‘gross’ Domini,” asked Barbara.

“Well, I guess a lot of things could. You know, she could be ugly or like, you know, be like all raising her hand in class a lot – you know, like a teacher’s pet or something. Or maybe she would hang out in the library, or dresses all stupid or something.”

“What!” said Barbara, the surprise evident in her voice. “Are you telling me it’s not cool to be smart?”

“ It’s not cool to be too smart. Not smarter than the boys. Like you can’t make your boyfriend look dumb.”

“What?!!” Barbara pulled over on San Pablo Boulevard and turned off the ignition. When she spoke again, her voice was somewhat calmer, but measured. “Now, did you just say that it’s not cool for a girl to be smarter than a boy? Did you just say that?”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s not like we really aren’t smarter than they are, it’s just like a thing.” said Domini, visibly rattled by her aunt’s change in demeanor.

“What is a thing? What does that mean a thing?”

“It’s nothing, aunt Barbara.”

The following week, Barbara met with the headmaster and the admission staff at School of the Madeleine, a Catholic primary school. They listened to her story. Domini had come such a long way, Barbara said. Perhaps it was nothing, but she couldn’t take that chance.

She met with her parents. Barbara had a decent job working as a brand manager, but she couldn’t continue to support Domini and give her a Catholic school education. This was Domini’s only chance to flourish. Inside of three months, Domini was shelving jeans until the weekend and donning a blouse with a Peter Pan collar, and a green plaid skirt. Mr. Cormier made Barbara promise never to tell Tisa that they had helped. “It wouldn’t be appropriate,” he said.