Chapter Six

1994 / Recidivism

Tisa’s neighbor Karen had made the call to the police, and the landlord led them to her apartment door. It wasn’t the first time that she had slipped, but it was the first time the cops had been called.

In previous years, there had been boyfriends, or whatever they were, to break the fall. People who are not much better off than their partners are not likely to call in the authorities – there but for the grace of . . . and all that. Mostly they were losers, anyway, or so Tisa rationalized; she was better off without them, which in some cases, was true. But they did keep a room over her and heat around her, and food in her and her daughter. And they did do their best – at least for the time they had – to make a family. Problem was, at least in most cases, they were no better equipped to create a stable living situation than Tisa was; probably worse. So, she bounced around, bitter than her prince charming had not yet rose from the socio-economic rubble, but doing what she could to keep her lifestyle, such as it was. Tisa had exhausted the string of menfolk who were willing to put up with her flotsam of issues, and she had, for the past several months, been living on her own. This time there was no soft landing.

“Well, I guess it’s been lots of little things,” said the neighbor who called the police, when she later talked in greater detail to the cop who was interviewing her. “It was weird, you know. Domini came over a few times during the day when she should have been in school, telling me her mother was sick. I guess at first, I just figured Tisa couldn’t drive her to school and couldn’t afford a babysitter so she’d kept her home. So I’d give her lunch and something to drink, and maybe something extra to bring back to her mother.”

From time to time over the past few months, Karen had seen Domini, only 7, walk to the corner store alone and return with a pack of sno-balls or a Big Gulp or maybe some bread. This lack of protective care seemed strange to Karen. Tisa frequently talked about her love for Domini, the great sacrifices she’d made for her daughter, and her devotion to her safety. Everyone in the complex had, at one time or another, been forced to listen to dramatic retellings of Domini’s accomplishments at school: a part in the kindergarten play, a star on a paper; the sort of quotidian activities that thrill only grandparents. Tisa extolled the virtues of her daughter in such a way that the unsupervised trips seemed a little out of character. But then Tisa was a single mom who had a myriad of ailments, at least according to her, not much money, and no help whatsoever from her parents. Karen, whose children were grown, knew how difficult it could be raising kids on one’s own. She was happy to help, and at first, these anomalies didn’t add up to more than an overworked mom.

There was, Karen remembered, that one incident that made her wonder if Tisa’s head was screwed on correctly. It had been a couple of months ago, when Tisa came rushing over after Domini hit her head on the side of the coffee table and was now having trouble staying awake. Tisa asked if maybe they could use Karen’s car to go to the hospital together.

“It could be a concussion,” Karen said. “I’m going to call 9-1-1 first. Maybe we shouldn’t move her. When did this happen?” she asked, checking the bump and new wound on Domini’s head, and dialing emergency services as she talked.

“About an hour ago.”

“Well, why didn’t you call then?” asked Karen.

“She seemed OK, just in a lot of pain. There wasn’t much blood and she just complained her head hurt.” Tisa was holding Domini in her arms. “Stay awake, Domini.” She shook her a little.

“Tisa!” Karen said sternly. “Don’t shake her. Did you give her anything for the pain, like a baby aspirin? I know they’ll ask.”

“No, not aspirin. I gave her a percocet.”

“A percocet?! You mean one of your prescriptions pills?” said Karen, alarmed.

“Oh calm down. Not a whole one. Just a half.”

Things seemed to go from bad to worse. Domini started showing up more often at Karen’s apartment for something to eat. After awhile, Karen, who ran an at-home business, started taking her to school herself, slipping a note under Tisa’s door that she had done so. Sometimes the notes were acknowledged, sometimes not. If she hadn’t heard from Tisa by 3:00, she would retrieve Domini from the school. When her business got in the way of Domini’s care, Karen would call Tisa’s sister, Barbara. Some days, Domini would go home with Barbara and spend a day or two there. She handed the landlord Barbara’s phone number now.

Karen used to give Tisa leads to jobs. She even tried to hire her to stuff envelopes, advising Tisa that it was a good gig because she could work from home during hours when Domini was sleeping. Tisa politely declined, indicating the work didn’t pay enough for her to bother. Karen suggested she take in typing in the evening and offered to get her some leads. The college kids at UC Berkeley were always looking for typists to help them with their projects. The work was easy. No, Tisa, said. Her hand injury precluded her from that, and besides, she wasn’t very good at typing, having skipped that class at school since it was at the end of the day.

Over the few months she had gotten to know Tisa, Karen offered to her several entry level positions she knew were open. Tisa passed, claiming they paid too little for her skill set, which, she said, was as a concierge. She was out of work, but that was temporary, she would say. Also, she was nursing a number of illnesses. She had hurt her hand, so she couldn’t do secretarial work of any kind, frankly.

The neighbor later noticed that in the evenings the house was often lit by candlelight. “At first I thought maybe she was one of those Berkeley types, you know, who’s always got incense and candles burning. Then, I don’t know, a couple of days later I saw the cord,” said Karen, pointing toward the kitchen window, which faced Karen’s apartment. Tisa had run several extension cords out the kitchen window and down to the laundry room one floor below.

“Yeah, I saw the cord, too,” said the landlord to the cops, “and I knew she was stealing from me,” he noted, rubbing his thumb against his index finger as if holding money. “But how could I evict her or tell her she couldn’t have any heat? She had a child, for cryin’ out loud. I’m not a monster.”

The expressions on the faces of the cops suggested that they had significantly less sympathy for Tisa than did anyone in the complex. For the cops’ part, they were much more cavalier about Tisa’s predicament. Yeah, yeah, another black chick with a sob story. They wanted the facts and if they could haul her off to jail, they would.

“And besides,” added the landlord, “she said her sister was going to pay next month.”

“Well, anyway, said Karen. “I called you guys because I hadn’t seen Domini in 4 days. I picked her up from school on Thursday, but now it’s Monday and I haven’t seen or heard anything from that apartment. When my kids were little it was all I could do to keep them quiet for 5 minutes. I knocked, but Domini just said she was fine. She didn’t let me in.”

When they entered, they found Domini coloring at the coffee table. Mel announced himself before turning the lock with his master key and walked in with the cops. Although Domini had properly been taught never to open the door for anyone, she wasn’t frightened of Mel. Like Karen, Mel had often supplied Domini with a snack or a glass of milk.

“Hi Mel.” Domini said.

“Hi sweety. These are police officers. Where’s mommy?”

“She’s sleeping. She’s been sleeping for the whole weekend,” she said, going back to her coloring. Then she proudly told the officers, “Me and kitty stayed in the bed with her for two whole days. I only got out to go pee. Then, I decided to color, and you can’t color in bed, you know.”

“I know,” said Mel, trying to keep everything calm. He walked over and stroked her hair, which clearly had not been combed in days. “Why is the refrigerator taped shut, Domini?” The refrigerator had several rounds of duct tape around it, making it impossible to open.

“Mommy did it. She said the food wasn’t good in there and that I shouldn’t eat it. She said that she didn’t want me to throw it away because I might fall in the fridge and get locked in there. So she taped it.”

“What have you been eating?”

“Soda and these,” she said, pushing her hand out to reveal jelly beans.

The police officers went to the bedroom. One of them came back and asked the landlord if anyone had guardianship of the child. Mel had already called Barbara who drove over right away and took Domini back home. Several years earlier, Tisa and Barbara had filed papers with the court providing for Barbara to take the child in case of an emergency.

“Is mommy OK?”

“She’s sick, but she should be fine,”

Domini stayed with Barbara for what was supposed to be a few weeks. But weeks turned into months. During that time, they made trips to Alta Bates hospital, to the Herrick rehab hospital and finally, back to the Christian Hand Recovery Center. Tisa was a guest again, though not without some legal wranglings by her court-appointed social worker, and a good deal of begging by Larry. The Loves had not wanted to bring her back.

There were many visits to the Center. Barbara drove Domini to see her mother during visiting hours, and the two would talk, or play Candyland, or watch television. It was the only time Domini was allowed to watch TV, and without underestimating the importance and significance of seeing her mother, the television was a tremendous incentive to travel to the otherwise dreary building where there were no children and no colors, and no places to play.

On the first visit, Domini had been surprised by the reception she received when she walked through the doors. The directors seemed to know her, as did some of the staff members. She greeted them all with her characteristic bright smile, and she hugged them because they asked. If Tisa’s predicament had any positive effect on Domini, it was that she was open to everyone, having been picked up and shuttled around for most of her young life. She saw through the veneers of most people, past the broken teeth and the pocked skin, past the cigarette-scarred voices and the baggy skin. Domini saw through to the core.

“Mommy, when are you coming home,” Domini asked at one of her visits. It could have been any visit; she always asked. Her mother’s presence in her life was strong, if sporadic, and she was connected to her in ways that were invisible to everyone but the two of them.

“Oh, I’ll be home very soon, and then things will be perfect again. It will be just you and me,” she looked over at Barbara, who was sitting a few chairs away in the day room to give them some privacy. Then she looked back at her daughter.

“I was thinking maybe you’d like a pony, Domini. What do you think? Think you’d like a pony?”

“A pony! gasped Domini. “Really, mommy? Really?”

“Well, I’ve been saving up. And grandma and grandpa’s got some room. We’d keep it up by them. There’s some stables up there.” It made Tisa feel good to see her little girl’s eyes widen and the smile return to her face.

“Um, Domini,” said Barbara, catching wind of the conversation. “Can you go to the kitchen and see if Larry will make me and your mother a cup of tea?” Domini, still juiced from the news, bounded off to get her aunt something to drink and Barbara moved in to talk to her sister.

“Tisa, you can’t tell that child things like that. You know you aren’t going to get her a horse. And exactly what money is it you’re saving? You haven’t worked in years.”

“Oh, like you know so much about being a mother. Do you have any kids?” snapped Tisa. “You just want her to like you more than me.”

“You know that’s not it, Tisa. This is always going to be your child. It’s just, you know, this is tough on her. Telling her you’re going to get out of here and get her a horse, well, it’s just not realistic.”

“She won’t even remember it two months from now,” said Tisa, rolling her eyes.

“She’s not two any more, Tisa. She’ll remember. And think about me. How am I going to take care of her and mete out any discipline if she thinks her mother is waiting in the wings with a pony?”

“So everything has to be about you? Who the hell is sitting up here in this shit-hole? Who can’t see her child? Who is being forced to stay in this goddamn prison? Not you, that’s for damn sure. Now, you wanna turn my child against me?” As usual, Tisa’s family was against her. They were trying to make her look bad in front of her own daughter. All she wanted was to put a smile on her daughter’s face. If she let them, they would take her away forever. That was not going to happen.

“No, Tisa. This has never been about me. That’s not it and you know it,” said Barbara. “Just please, don’t make promises to her that no one can keep.”
“Yeah, I suppose I should let you raise my child,” Tisa said, a sadistic lilt to her voice. It’s as close as you’re going to get to one yourself. Got a man, yet?” Tisa got some small pleasure in taunting her sister about her social life. It had been that way since high school. Tisa, who was strikingly beautiful, had never had trouble attracting anyone. Barbara was not unattractive, but she had been focused on her grades in those early days. Later, she had concentrated on her career. Now, she had Domini, and regardless of whether the child was actually hers, the very existence of Domini made it difficult to pursue a social life. It had been a low blow to Barbara, but it was a calculated low blow: the likelihood that Tisa (and by extension Domini) would suffer from it was low. Barbara moved back to the other chair and away from her sister.

When Domini returned with the tea, she resumed small talk with her mother. Barbara was careful not to imply that she was Domini’s primary caregiver, though in truth, she was, and had been for some time. Even when Tisa was trying to keep it together, Domini would have extended stays at Barbara’s house. They had even, at one time, tossed around the idea of changing Domini from Aunt Barbara to something else. They had come up with the Minister of Culture. Domini had read in a book that royalty were assigned various private educators who were responsible for certain aspects of their upbrining. Since her aunt usually took her to museums and the theatre on the weekends, she became Domini’s minister of culture. At this meeting, they shared that with Tisa who seemed pleased that it was further away from being a mother than was an aunt.

“Mommy, when are you going to come home?” Domini asked, snuggling up to her mother on the couch. Then, the questions came in rapid succession, with Domini’s characteristic good cheer attached to them. “Maybe you can live with Aunt Barbara, too. I don’t want to go live with Frank. I didn’t really like Marcel’s house, either – he smoked. And our apartment was cold and dark and sometimes the refrigerator made scary noises. Can we not have candles any more? Aunt Barbara says that you can stay in the living room, and I can stay in the dining room. We could have like a permanent sleepover.”

Tisa hugged her daughter, but like most of what was directed at Tisa, she let the words pass through without any real understanding of what Domini was communicating. To Tisa, anything that didn’t fully acknowledge her daughter’s total devotion to her was anti-mother propaganda.

Eventually, it was time to say goodbye. The pair left Tisa at the Center with plenty of hugs and tears to go around. Domini hugged her mother and told her not to worry; Everyone was going to be alright.

That year, Barbara reduced her hours at work so she could be home by 4:00pm. She moved from her one bedroom apartment on Lake Merritt, where she spent her Sundays walking the perimeter of the lake and flirting with the plethora of single men who also walked the lake. She had actually liked her life before she had been given a child. The lake scene was young and a great place for a single woman. But the schools were lousy, so it had to be done. In the past, she had kept Domini for a week or two at a time. This time things had more of a sense of permanence.

Because the police had been called this most recent time, and they had found Domini unsupervised, unfed, unwashed, and in a home with no heat, food or electricity, Tisa had been required to go to court to determine whether she was fit to care for Domini. Rather than have to face further court action, and since Barbara was already approved by the court for emergency visits, she agreed to let Barbara have temporary custody of the child. This was known only to Barbara, Tisa, and the caseworkers. Tisa’s parents were not officially made aware. Unofficially, they were in the loop.

The move to a more long term situation required several changes on Barbara’s part. She found a small house in Albany where the schools were better than where she lived, and she put a down payment on it. Barbara would never tell Tisa that her parents had helped her with the down payment. It was the least they could do, they said. Consider it a graduation gift that helps everyone. It was a two-bedroom, so Domini could have her own room, which she decorated with construction paper flowers she made at school, posters of New Kids on the Block and Lionel Richie, and pictures of her and her mother together during happy moments.

Barbara made certain that 3 times a week, Domini got to see her mother down at the Center, just after school. Every night, instead of flopping down on the couch in front of the television after work, she made dinner. Where she would have preferred to read a book in a quiet corner of her room, she instead doled over homework.

On Friday nights, Barbara and Domini headed to Iceland, the Berkeley ice rink, for a Friday night skate party. Normally, Barbara might have joined her friends at Solomon Grundy’s on the bay to flirt and talk, but she took her responsibility seriously, and leaving Domini with a babysitter during what must be a rough time was out of the question. Besides, she couldn’t afford it.

From time to time, she would drive Domini up to see her grandparents. Tisa tried to discourage these visits, but given Barbara’s financial situation, which did not account for babysitting, it was the only break she got.

Girlfriends stopped by less and less. Boyfriends were non-existent, exercise was catch-as-catch-can. Perhaps there was some small guilt associated with her success that kept her looking after her younger sister. Not that she should feel guilty. After all, it was Tisa’s draining of the family coffers that required Barbara to pay her way to Berkeley and kept her from going to Brown, where she had also been accepted.

Still, if Barbara felt any resentment toward her family for their choice to spend her college fund on Tisa or toward her sister directly for having to pay-off loans, or saddling her with the responsibility of a child that she didn’t give birth to, she didn’t show it. She appeared steadfast in her devotion to Domini and did not seem to dwell on the sacrifices she was making in her own adult life for the family. She often remarked to her mother that “what needed to be done needed to be done,” and Domini wasn’t waiting on anyone to grow up.

In the end, if Barbara didn’t do it, then Domini ran the risk of getting lost in the system. The Cormiers had made it clear that Domini was welcome at their home. They also made it clear that Tisa was not welcome, at least not until she had gotten herself back together again. It was tough love, but at least for her father, it was the only love he knew how to provide. She could visit Domini on the weekends after she got discharged from the center, but there had to be a solid year without backsliding before she was welcome on overnight stays. That’s just how it was.

So Barbara stepped in. Friends would have to carry on without her; boyfriends would have to be put on hold; and exercise was as much as she could muster chasing a 7 year old.