Untitled

Chapter Forty Four

The days pass swiftly. Christine, with her mother's approval, is to stay with Bernice and Lisa through her pregnancy. She is further along than she thought-the baby is now due in February. She attends evening high school classes and is taking a computer training course. She is doing well.

One sunny afternoon, Bernice impulsively asked. "Lisa dear, would you do me a favor?"
"Sure," came a fast reply.
"Now that the remodeling is done and all the workmen have left, there's no reason for one of us to be here all the time. Ben will be here tomorrow to leave his nephew's daughter and baby with us and I want to be here to meet them. So today, how about you and me going for a drive?"
"Sure," came another automatic response.
"I would like to go downtown and see where you lived when you first came out here."
Lisa came to her feet and walked over to the veranda doors. She stood still for a minute gazing out over the ocean, her hands on her hips, her back to Bernice. She turned to address her friend.
"Is that all you want to do? See where I lived?"
Bernice smiled sheepishly and shrugged.
"Remember our rule." Lisa kept her voice respectful but firm. "We agreed that we would rely on Social Services and Ben regarding recommendations on girls that we invite to stay here. Believe me, Bernie, you have to be careful. There are hardened druggies out there that will steal and shoot you without batting an eye. Don't forget, I've been there."
"I realize that, dear, but something is telling me that I should go; that's all."
"Okie dokie," said Lisa, still suspicious. "Get your jacket and I'll go tell Christine we're leaving."
The yellow convertible squirreled its way down the winding estate road. Bernice had a mysterious smile on her face as they left the on-ramp approach to the Newport Freeway. Deep in thought she hardly noticed the distance traveled. The famous Hollywood sign stood on its hillside, ageless and seemingly indifferent to the busy routines of the human populace below.
Leaving the Hollywood freeway, Lisa headed for the old neighborhood where she hoped to see Pop and Granny's old Victorian House still standing. It was there. Memories flooded in. She recalled how she would count the cement steps that led up to the front porch where she would often be greeted by Pop sitting in his rocking chair on the porch. She knew there were fifty steps. She counted them every time anyway. This little act had a way of fortifying her sense of security.
"It's amazing, Bernie. I mean how that big house never slipped down the hill after all these years. Amazing!" Her heart warmed in this nostalgic moment, but she felt strangely sad, also.
Bernice surveyed the old house, which was now surrounded by apartment buildings on both sides. She examined the surroundings with a sense of expectancy.
"There's a lot of good memories here, Bernie. Since we're in the area, you wanna see where I went to school and then the place where Pop found me?"
"Yes I would, that would be nice." They no sooner pulled away from the curb when Bernice nudged her friend and said, "Lisa! Pull over."
She complied. Bernice got out of the car, walked over to an old lady pushing a shopping cart loaded with belongings. She handed her a twenty dollar bill. Astounded, the lady expressed her thanks by wishing them God's blessings.
This act of benevolence reminded Lisa of the plight of older people she had known when she was a teenager. It also reminded her of what Doc Summers had said about no contribution being too small.
"Bernie, that was awful nice of you. Some things never seem to change. You know, Pop and Granny not only boarded us girls. There were a few older folks there too. You'd be surprised at the number of old folks that are homeless or living on small incomes, affording only the basic essentials. I know Pop and Granny had a tough time financially. They willingly shared all they had, though. Us girls who worked helped out by giving them money every week. They also got Social Security and some Social Security money from a couple of other older folks living there.
They would have been a lot better off if Pop hadn't been cheated out of his pension. As I understand it, he worked for the same company for forty-five years and should have received a nice pension. As it turned out, his company was taken over by a big corporation and quickly sold. Corporate raiders, they called them. The bottom line was that somewhere in all the dealings the pensions for him and one hundred and fifty others were stolen."
"I know. They buy companies, fire the workers, and in some cases steal their pensions and benefits, to boot. John hated them," snarled Bernice.
"Bernie, when was the last time you were on Hollywood Boulevard?"
"I really don't remember dear, it's been a long time."
"I'll drive down the street once and see if I can spot the place where Pop found me. Then, back to the freeway and home, OK?"
Bernice had that peculiar feeling again. She nodded in agreement. Lisa drove slowly down Hollywood Boulevard, looking for landmarks. Horns honked behind her. A young man in an older car went speeding around her. He stuck his arm out the window making an obscene gesture with his middle finger. "Are impatient, impetuous young men like that indigenous to this part of town these days?"
"Fraid so," said Lisa, in disgust. "The older buildings on that end of the street have yet to fall victim to the wrecking ball and modernization," Lisa pointed out, changing the subject.
A mile down, however, skyscrapers impaled the yellow haze that blanketed the city and blocked the day's remaining sun. Lisa made a sudden right turn onto a side street and into a pay parking lot. "There it is, Bernie. That's the restaurant where Pop found me." She pointed across the street. "Rudolphs" was the name displayed in front, above the large store-size windows. The restaurant's door was in between.
"Let's go over and have a cup of coffee,OK?"
Bernice agreed without hesitation. A surge of unexplained anxiety raced through Lisa's body as she reached for the restaurant door handle. She abruptly stopped. 'Maybe I need to take one last look,' she thought.
"Come here for a minute, Bernie, I wanna to show you where Pop found me." She took her friend by the hand and led her to the alley at the side of the building. Lisa peeked around the corner, instantly recognizing her former refuge from the cruel streets. Tin trash cans lined the wall near the side door of the restaurant. The once bright red brick wall of the adjacent building was blackened from vehicle and industrial pollution. They moved to the center of the alleyway in order to gain an unobstructed view.
"What in the world is that?" Bernice pointed into the dimly lit cavern at a strange shaped bundle resting against the brick wall several yards into the alleyway next to a trash bin.
Unsure, yet compelled to move forward, Bernice placed her hand in the small of Lisa's back, nudging her. They cautiously proceeded into the alleyway. As they got closer the bundle revealed itself to be a human form squatting against the wall, covered with a plaid blanket. Bernice stooped down and carefully lifted the blanket exposing the head of a young black girl. Startled, the girl looked up with frightened eyes.
"You needn't be afraid child, we won't hurt you," said Bernice speaking softly.
"What you want with me," she barked back.
"We thought you were sick or something." Lisa spoke in a kindly voice.
"Well, I ain't, and I just want to be left alone." She talked big, but a quivering lower lip and scratchy voice exposed her fear. Bernice remained at eye level with the girl and talked to her reassuringly, convincing her to have something to eat with them next door. Lisa extended her hand to help Bernice and then the girl to their feet. It was immediately obvious that the girl was at least six or seven months pregnant.
"I know you must be hungry, so please order what you like." The girl obliged. Not knowing where her next meal would come from, she ordered a big dinner.
"Do you have any family around here?" Lisa asked.
"I never knew my father, and my mother got shot two years ago," the girl reluctantly replied with a sad face.
"I'm so sorry, dear," said Bernice, feeling compassion for the girl. "How did it happen?"
"We came home one night and my mom thought she heard a noise in the other room. She made me stay put and went into the bedroom. I heard a shot go off and ran in there. My mom was laying on the floor. She died going to the hospital. I told her I loved her, but she couldn't hear me." Tears spontaneously filled the girl's eyes. "She was all I had."
Lisa put an arm around the young girl in an attempt to offer comfort. "Who's been taking care of you?"
"I lived mostly in foster homes. They weren't nice and really didn't care about me though. They just wanted the money. So I would run away and live on the street.
"I met bad people and I met good people sometimes. I finally got a boyfriend and I been living with him for a year. He kicked me out two days ago. He said I was getting too fat and he didn't want any babies around. I love him and I thought he loved me. Maybe he'll change his mind later," she said with a sign of doubt in her voice.
Understanding her heartache and desperation from personal experience, Lisa could not honestly offer any words of hope for the relationship, so changed the subject.

"By the way, my name is Lisa and this is my friend, Bernice. What's yours?"
"Sandra, Sandra Williams."
A wave of shock caught Lisa unawares. 'No, it couldn't be,' she thought. "Sandra, what was your mother's name?"
"Annett"
"Would that be Annett Williams?" Lisa's hands trembled as she waited, despite impossible odds, for the answer she expected.
"Yeah, that's right. Why you so surprised?"
"Because I had a best friend whose name was Annett Williams."
Sandra took a shot in the dark. "Did you live in that big old house on Elm Street?"
Lisa stared at Sandra, examining her facial features. The resemblance was remarkable. "Yes-Yes I did," Lisa answered slowly, still unsure. Unsure only because of the odds against such an incredible coincidence. 'Why not?' she thought. 'With God all things are possible.'
"Then you be Miss Lisa!" Sandra's eyes sparkled in delight. Her face registered joy for the first time in months. "My mother told me all about you. Said you was best friends, too. She showed me how you was found here. I never thought about it before and don't know why I came here today. I only been here a couple hours. I never figured in a million years I'd meet you. This is gotta be a miracle."
"One thing for sure, young lady. You're coming home with us tonight," Bernice announced in a commanding yet gentle way.
Lisa was now experiencing mixed emotions; sad for her friend; amazed and in awe with this, another set of impossible coincidences; anxious to talk more with Sandra; and, of course, filled with desire to help her. They talked about Annett while Sandra finished her dinner.
"Where you all live, Miss Lisa?"
"Newport Beach."
"I ain't never been there before. I still can't believe you found me the way you did. Any other day I wouldn't a been there. And there's hundreds of kids like me roaming around the streets."
"No, not really. Hundreds? You have to be joking," exclaimed Bernice, unbelievingly, as they were getting into the car.
"No, I ain't kidden, ma'am. I mean they mostly come out as soon as it starts to get dark."
"Yeah," said Lisa in sad remembrance of this pathetic routine. "Unless things have changed greatly over the years, she's not exaggerating. Doc Summers keeps up on this stuff and he says that nationwide, up to two or three thousand kids a day run away from home. He says that two out of three of them have been abused and one in three have an alcohol or drug addicted parent."
Bernice turned her head and gave Sandra a quick glance. It was hard for her imagine there where hundreds more, just like Sandra, out there on the streets of LA alone.
"Lock your doors you guys," requested Lisa. "We'll take a quick spin around town and some side-streets. Now that we're here Bernie, might as well show you."
As they drove, Bernice watched the sidewalks and observed that with dusk, more kids and homeless people seem to appear. Some walked in groups and others, alone. Lisa cruised the streets for about twenty minutes. Bernice was aghast at what she was seeing. A young lady standing on a corner with a baby in her arms. And her other child was gripping a streetlight pole with one hand and playfully running in circles around it.
"She's probably a hooker," commented Sandra.
"With a baby?" questioned Bernice in surprise.
"The Johns that come around here don't care if you have ten babies, as long as they get their jollies. They ain't got no souls; they're worse than the hookers." Bernice was shocked and visibly disturbed at Sandra's revelations. She watched the street people stopping passersby, probably mostly tourists, and soliciting handouts. Young girls ages twelve and up, with skinny legs and tiny skirts, walking the side streets were a common sight.
"Typically," explained Lisa, "those girls have been enslaved by pimps and drugs and are empty of respect for self and the whole of humanity."
Lisa stopped the car, obeying the red traffic signal. A group of kids stepped off the curb into the crosswalk. One of them a tall Hispanic boy, who was the apparent leader, positioned himself in front of Lisa's car. He pulled a club from inside his jacket and swung at the car, breaking a front headlight. Reacting in anger, Lisa honked the horn and stuck her head out the window yelling at the boy. He stopped in his tracks and started toward Lisa's door.
"Hey baby," he said in a swirly voice. "What's the matter, did I hurt the pretty little car?" He reached for the door handle, the club held high with his other hand. Lisa instinctively stepped on the accelerator, lunging the car into the intersection. Brakes squealed and horns blared. She slammed on the brakes. Perverse laughter, coming from the kids on the corner, pierced the air.
"God damn assholes!" Sandra muttered from the back seat. She knew that this was just a warm-up for the gang and that later they would be knocking off drunks or committing some other crime in order to finance their habits.
Bernice was angry and at the same time petrified. She glared at the group with disdain. She found herself focusing, in particular, on a petite young girl with stringy blonde hair that partially covered one eye. Her eyes riveted on the girl, Bernice detected an obvious artificiality and an underlying fear in the girl's raucous laughter. 'This one's laughing on the outside while crying on the inside,' she thought to herself. Bernice's anger melted into a compassionate pity.
Fortunately, Lisa's skid into the intersection hadn't created an accident. The drivers of the other two cars observed what was going on and one of them exited his car scoffing at the group of youths. They fled. Knees shaking, Lisa proceeded through the intersection under the watchful eyes of the two kindly men in the other cars.