Chapter Seven

Chapter 7
Developments

Considering her options, Tisa decided, however reluctantly, not to fight the court order and allow temporary custody of Domini to remain with her sister her sister, who was now in charge of a seven year old, more adult than her years and at the same time, younger than her age. It had been a hard life.

Tisa’s decisions were based on the education of a sometimes high school student and the bravado of a bull fighter. She reasoned that what she lacked in formal training or reasoning she more than made up for in street smarts and a natural intelligence that made her see the world more clearly than others. Her decisions about things, she believed, were based upon an intelligence that gave her insights far beyond anyone who had a formal education and she was quick to point that out to anyone who disagreed with her.

People who didn’t see her talents were stupid. People who didn’t agree with her assessments were racist. People who didn’t understand her decisions as they related to her daughter were insensitive and selfishly trying to separate her from the one person to whom she was specially bonded. Such life perspective kept short one’s Christmas list.

Larry had resumed his outdoor chats with Tisa, though he had not been asked to do so by the Loves. They were practical people and knew the limits of their abilities and her restive attitude was to them sure evidence that she could not be helped. They remained open to any overtures she might make about a real interest in recovery and getting her life on track, but heroic efforts were too time-consuming and emotionally draining if someone was not going to put in the work. She was required to follow the rules and would get no second chances, this time. The Loves were getting old, and they were tired.

Larry, however, enjoyed the challenge. He confided to the Loves that he liked her spark. If she could channel her energy toward something more productive, she could be a winner. His interest was a blessing; much like her first stay at the Center, Tisa hadn’t taken long to alienate the other guests and so was beholden to Larry for conversation.

From time to time, in between conversations about the proper way to bake a chicken, or Tisa’s drug use, or Larry’s exploits in Las Vegas, Larry would try to slip in a serious conversation.

“Tisa, you know you’re a very smart girl,” he’d begin.

“I know. I’m smarter than that stupid social worker, that’s for sure. That bitch won’t even let me have my daughter. It wasn’t my fault I had that allergic reaction to those sleeping pills. It could have happened to anyone.”

“Well, you know, Tisa, you’re sitting up here with a drug addict. You can’t piss on my shoes and call it rain, see. You and I both know that’s a stone lie. But that’s not what I’m talkin’ about. I know how tough it is to stay clean. And I know that regardless of that struggle, you’re a smart girl.

“See, here’s the thing, though. Let’s say you’re the smartest person in the whole world. Let’s say that you can do anything you put your mind to. Let’s say that if a stray bullet come up this street and hit me in the chest, you could get it out and save my life without no medical training.”

“OK,” said Tisa, looking at him quizzically.

“Well, if a doctor come by and he seen the bullet, well, he would probably be able to do it, too. And maybe him working in a hospital even makes him better at takin’ out a bullet, you see? But him being better at it don’t make you worser at it. In fact, he might teach you the right way to take out that bullet because he sees how industrious you are.”

“What’s your point?” she said dryly.

“Well, what I’m tryin’ to say is that just ‘cuz you got a brain, don’t mean other people don’t have a brain. And just ‘cuz somebody’s smart don’t make it that you’re dumb. And sometimes if you, you know, give folks their due, their propers, they might give you yours. Might even teach you how to be a better you.” Larry leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands between his knees. “And I guess I’m saying something else, too.

“I guess I’m saying that sometimes you gotta let people know you don’t know everything, so they will teach you. If you come off like you know everything and don’t have no respect for nothing anyone else knows, well, folks aren’t nearly as inclined to reach out to you.”

“Folks aren’t nearly as inclined to reach out to me because all they see is a black woman without a man and with a kid who the court says is a drug addict.”

“Well now, I won’t lie, Tisa. I’m sure that’s true for some folks, but that’s not true for everyone. I seen people try to help you and you just shake ‘em off like old fleas.”

“What old man? You’re crazy,” said Tisa, waving him away with her hand. “Nobody ever looks out for me.”

“What about your sister? She’s got Domini and doing good by her isn’t she?”

“She’s just trying to take my daughter away from me, trying to take credit for how I raised Domini. Besides, it’s not like it’s a burden – Barbara never did have a life.”

“I don’t know, Tisa. That doesn’t even sound right. But even so, seems like she’s trying to help. What about the counselors here?” he asked.

“Those losers? If they were any good, they surely wouldn’t be working at this dump. They have no idea how to help me. That bullshit about getting me to admit I’ve got a problem. My biggest problem is my family. I shouldn’t even be here.”

“I think a lot of folks here would agree with you, Tisa, but not for the same reason. Trust me, you should be here.”

“I’m not like you. You did heroin, Larry. You put that nasty-ass shit in your veins.”

“Yes, I did, and I loved almost every minute of it,” he said with a smile. “When it was good, it was real good, like floating on warm honey. But then it got bad. And let me tell you, girl, it always gets bad. Yeah, doin’ that shit and everything else made me a drug addict. I’m not proud to have been one, but I’m proud to have the strength to admit it, and I’m even prouder to say I haven’t done so much as an aspirin in 17 years.”

“You were still way worse off than me,” said Tisa. She was not a drug addict. She took some drugs. There was a difference.

“I’m sure you’re right. But you know, taking sleeping pills, and percodan, and bennies doesn’t make you any less of a drug addict, Tisa. Your addiction is just not as messy and it’s easier to hide. In some ways, that makes your type of addiction more dangerous.”

“My addiction is not my fault. It’s the doctors who prescribed those medications – they should have been watching.”

“Tisa, I don’t want to go down this road. I want to talk to you about rejecting people’s help. That’s where we started this conversation. I asked you to start taking offers of help.”

“I never turn away help. And anyway, I’ve been sweeping this place and dusting and wiping up toilets. When’s the last time you helped me?”

“Two weeks ago,” he said. “At least I tried.”

“What are you talking about, old man,” she said, shaking her head.

“I tried to help you get that job down there at the Hotel Jack London, but you wanted to do it your own way,” he said. Tisa remembered that job. Her not getting it had resulted in the Hotel asking the Loves to stop sending their Guests over. She had really wanted that to be her entry to the hospitality industry.

During both her first and current stays at the Center, Tisa had been enthralled with the stories Larry told about being a runner for various concierges in New York and Las Vegas. She liked the idea that one was always filling different requests, which made the job seem interesting to her. She enjoyed the star sightings and the endless tales Larry told about getting free food, or champagne delivered by some big executive, or late night cab rides to pick up and deliver contraband. It was all so exciting.

On this second stay at the Center, Tisa had been required to look for a job more quickly than she had the first time she was there. The Loves had decided they had not done Tisa any favors the first time by giving in to her ailments and complaints. Now, without the child, it made it easier to crack the whip, and more difficult for Tisa to excuse herself. She had gone on a few interviews, but nothing had come through. The jobs were all entry level and Tisa had returned from the interviews unapologetic about not landing the positions. She frequently left telling her interviewers that she was insulted at the tasks she was asked to do.

Then, Larry mentioned an opening at the Hotel Jack London, a small hotel walking distance from the Center. Landing such a position was considered a cherry gig, because it required no cash outlay for transportation. The job was for an early morning room service waitress. The shift was from 3:30am to 11:30am, and paid $5.02 an hour plus tips. The job was easy: pick up breakfast door hangers at 4:00am, rank-order them for the cooks, fold napkins for the banquet staff, and deliver the meals at the appropriate times. But the really special part of the job was that it was the gateway to becoming a concierge, at least according to Larry.

“See, it’s all about how they see you serving people,” he told her excitedly. “I mean, you could spend your whole life runnin’ flapjacks to folks, but it’s going that extra mile. That’s how I got a job as a runner.

“This one morning, back in New York, I delivered this man’s breakfast. It was the sixth day in a row and I asked him could I get him something else. He said, ‘I’m from Louisiana. Why is it nobody makes Grits up here? I sure do wish I could get some Grits.’ Well, the next morning, I brought in a box of Grits from my place, cooked ‘em up right there in the kitchen, and brought his some Grits,” Larry said proudly. “You know that man done gave me a $10.00 tip? For some Grits!”

“How does that translate to being a concierge?” Tisa asked.

“Well, the man told the concierge about me, that I was what made the hotel great. And then whaddaya know, I’m working for the concierge, getting all kinda stuff.”

“How long did you have to deliver food before that happened?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a year or so. All in all, it was pretty quick. I expected to be in that job for most of my life,” he laughed. “In fact, maybe I shouldn’t have gone the extra mile, cuz that’s when I found cocaine, and then H, and look where that got me?”

“A year? You mean I gotta deliver nasty old food to people for a year?” Tisa was incredulous.

“Could be shorter. Longer too, but you’ve got to get the waiter job, first.”

“Shit, it might have taken you that long, but it won’t take me that long,” said Tisa, unaware that her words might sting.

“Well, that could be,” he said, “but why don’t we start on getting you that job first, and then you can prove me wrong. Let’s do a mock interview, and I’ll test your answers. That’s a good place to start. Then, we can talk a little about how to serve, and what to expect, so – ” Tisa cut him off.

“I don’t need your help, old man. You’re a washed up old cook. I can get that job with my eyes closed and if your way takes a year, then I think I need a better teacher.”

Sitting now with Larry, she remembered the interview had not gone well. She had worn something inappropriate; a dress made more for a cocktail waitress than a hotel food runner. She’d also made too many overtures to using the position as a stepping stone to other positions. Her belief that such statements would show employee loyalty went unchecked before she said them, because she didn’t ask.

The interviewer had asked about her experience. Larry had planned to give her a kitchen/service rundown and some practice at the Center. That way, she could say she knew what she was doing. Having never had any formal experience, her comments back to her interviewer reflected a woefully misinformed perspective on what needed to be done. She made things worse by lying about her past jobs. They told her on the spot that they would not be calling her. She told them on the spot that they were assholes.

Thinking about it now, she would have done things differently, maybe even asked Larry to coach her, but it wouldn’t have mattered, she was sure.

“Those people were racists. They were white and they couldn’t handle my personality. They didn’t like the fact that I had dreams beyond that stupid step-n-fetchit job,” she said.

“Possibly. Possibly. I wasn’t there. But you didn’t even give me a chance to help you. Asking for help don’t mean you’re stupid.”

“You said that.”

“Well, you might could have learned something from me.”

Larry sighed and leaned back in his chair. For a time, the two sat silently, watching the goings-on of Washington Street. In the years that Tisa had been away, the street had begun to see a renaissance of sorts. It was still only reminiscent of its former grandeur, but businesses were beginning to populate the area again. Some blocks away, there had been a major effort to restore some older Victorian homes, and the gentrification efforts were spreading. Chinatown had begun an urban sprawl westward, its residents taking over some of the vacant buildings near the Center, and Ratto’s had started serving brewed coffee and Italian pastries. They even put out some café tables. Larry and Tisa never wondered over to sit in them.

Eventually, Larry got up and retied his apron. It was time to start dinner.

“Listen here, Tisa. I’m ‘bout the only friend you got and you know how you know I’m a friend? Because I’ve never wanted anything from you. I know you think that the only people worth having as friends are people who give you things, but those gifts really don’t come for free. You got to give something in return.

“You’ve fallen on some hard times, and it’s gonna be tough to get things right. But you got a little girl out there who really really needs you, so you got to get this right. I remember I told you last time not to run to the first man who gave you a roof. You got to make it on your own.

“I been in the recovery business for a long time and this is what I know. The Lord keeps putting the same lesson in front of us ‘til we get it right. Doing the same thing every time ain’t gonna change your lot in life. You got to break free.” He knocked on her head. “Girl, stop letting that hard head lead you around. There’s a lot of love out there for you. I want to see you take care of that little one. And if you don’t change, I’m gonna see you back here again.”

Tisa considered his words, and dismissed them just as quickly. She may not have always gotten things perfectly right, but she knew in her heart that she was doing right by herself and her daughter. Larry was a man; he didn’t understand how things were. It was easy for a man to say he didn’t need a woman, but he wasn’t understanding her situation.

OK, the situation wasn’t ideal, Domini being with Barbara and she being kept here. But she had taught Domini some skills and everyone loved Domini as a result. Not that she ever got credit for that. If she was going to be maligned, then she better also get some proper respect for all the good she did behind raising that child. Who got the credit? Barbara! Where was the fairness in that?