Free as a Bird (17 page)

“Ruby Jean, I hope you won't be upset with me …”

Sister Irene looked jittery — like the way I got sometimes. But I dint think I never could get mad at her — nope, never.

“I called Social Services this morning while you were sleeping. They put me in touch with Mrs. Gentry — your caseworker. She says your family's been very worried about you and have been looking for you.”

“But, Sister Irene, I got no family, cept Mabel.” I got a sudden sad feelin cause I loved Nan. But she an Mrs. Gentry was gunna have to take me back to Woodlands. An no matter what I was never gunna go back there — nope, never.

A liddle later somebody knocked on Sister Irene's door.

“Ruby Jean, would you get that, please?” Sister Irene asked.

I dint mind, cause I liked to be helpful. But when I opened that door I got a awful big surprise — yup, it was Nan. She rushed in an gave me a hug — the kinda hugs my Gramma used to give me when I was liddle an she'd wrap me up inside her arms. But then I could tell there was someone else huggin me too — an when I looked up I saw who it was.

“Pops?” I cried. “Yer here. I thought you went to heaven in the amblance.” I dint think I been so surprised in my life — nope, wasn't sure if I was sposed to laugh or cry so I did both.

“Is that what you thought, Ruby Jean?” Nan asked. “Did you think Pops died?” I nodded cause suddenly I couldn't say nothin on account of the cryin. “Pops did get sick, honey — very sick. That's why the ambulance came and took him to the hospital.”

“The hospital? Jus like Mabel?”

“Who's Mabel, dear?”

I was too busy huggin Nan an Pops, so Sister Irene told em all bout Mabel.

“It seems Ruby Jean misunderstood what happened to Mr. Williams. Then she overheard you and your son and thought she'd be sent back to Woodlands. That's the reason she ran away.”

Sister Irene told em all bout how I got food from the soup kitchen an slept hind the Bamboo Smoke Shop in Chinatown or in the toilet at Pigeon Park or under the stairs of Pioneer Laundry — when Mabel let me.

“I had no idea you thought I'd send you back to Woodlands, Ruby Jean,” Nan said. “I'd never do that … you're family now. And as you can see, dear, Pops is quite well. He didn't go to heaven in the ambulance.”

Pops laughed. “That's for sure. I'm right here for you Ruby Jean … and I want you to come home.”

So I went home that day with Nan an Pops an got to sleep in my own bed. Nother thing — I had toast an tea three times fore I went to sleep that night. Nan an Pops took me to see Mabel the nex day — she looked lot bedder too. She tried givin me back the present I gave her. But I told her she had to keep it to member me by. She cried some more after that — I dint mean to make her cry. I told her I was sorry.

“It's all right, Ruby Jean,” Nan said. “You made her very happy.”

I told Mabel I wasn't gunna be homeless no more. I told her Mrs. Gentry could find her a good home too — like mine. But Mabel dint like that idea.

“Just so ya don't think I'm not grateful, let me explain something. I've been on the streets for a long time. I know it's not the best life, but it's mine. I'm like one of those pioneers who came out west and opened up new territory. I live off the land, take what I need, and don't owe nobody nothin. I come and go as I please and don't do anything I don't want to — that's because I'm my own boss.”

I think I knowed zackly what Mabel meant.

“A long time ago, before I was sent to Riverview, I used to have a job sorting letters for the post office. Most letters fit into the slots just fine — that's because they were all the same size. But every so often one came along that was too long or too wide and had to be put in the oversize drawer. For a letter sorter that was a nuisance — created more work, more effort.”

I thought bout how nice it was that Mabel used to have a job at the post office.

“What I'm trying to say is I figure you and me are kind of like those oversize letters. We didn't fit into any of the usual places — we weren't like the others — so some people thought we had to be put somewhere separate. With you it was Woodlands. With me it was Riverview. But we got lucky — we got away. And just like you, I ain't never going back. That's why I chose the streets … it's where I want to be. So don't worry about me, kid. I'm a survivor.” Then Mabel smiled at me. “Doesn't mean I'd say no to a little money now and then.”

I never sawed Mabel again after that. Sometimes I thought bout her an bout goin to the soup kitchen to see how she was doin. But then I membered what she said — bout bein fine an bout not worryin bout her. Nan helped me to mail her some money care of Sister Irene. Got a letter back one day an Pops read it to me.

Dear Ruby Jean,

It was very kind of you to send money for Mabel. She is very fortunate to have a friend like you.

We're getting ready for winter and passing out blankets and coats every day to the needy. The church is setting up beds in the basement too for those willing to come in out of the cold. I'm glad you're not one of them.

Now that you're safely back home, dear girl, it's time to focus on the future. In the Bible there's a passage — it's one of my favourites: “I will restore to you the years that the locusts have eaten.” Joel 2:25. Just remember, Ruby Jean, that good things come to those who trust and wait.

Your friend,
Sister Irene

I dint understand that part bout the locusts. That's cause I never learnt bout those kinda things before. Nan esplained it to me.

“I think what Sister Irene is trying to say is you've had some very difficult times in your life, but from now on things are going to be better — much better.” Then Nan hugged me tight.

chapter 10

All that happened long time ago — yup, long, long ago. But then somethin else happened jus last week … somethin I dint ever think would happen. I went back to Woodlands — yup, jus for a visit. Nobody lives there no more on account of it closed in 1996.

At first I dint want to go, but Nan said it was important us ones who survived be there for the celebration. They was openin a special garden — called the Woodlands Memorial Garden. There was speeches an singin an people cryin too — yup, a awful lot of cryin. The part I liked best was the cake an seein some of em kids who use to live at Woodlands. Cept they wasn't kids no more — some even had grey hair an wrinkles too. Dint see nobody from Ward 33 — nope, it was jus me. Wished I coulda seen Susan, but I dint knowed what happened to her. I never spected to see Norval on account of he died — yup, died long time ago. I always wondered if he ever got his wish to see a real-life hockey game — somehow I dint think so.

In that memorial garden they had a big monument with some of em old headstones — the ones the worker men dug up long time ago from the cemetery. Nan helped me find Willy Bennett's headstone. Norval would've liked that. Jus when I was bout to get myself nother piece of that cake, Nan said I had to meet somebody.

“Ruby Jean, I want you to meet Don Turner,” she said. “He's a reporter from the newspaper. He'd like to talk to you about Woodlands.”

Mr. Turner smiled at me. “Hi, Ruby Jean. Nice to meet you.”

Nan an me walked with Mr. Turner to the bench cross from the headstone monument. We sat watchin the people. Some were readin the signs, others walked long the pathway to that sculpture of barred windows too high for anybody to see outta. I liked watchin the kids best — they was laughin an chasin each other round. Some was eatin cake. I hoped I was gunna get some more of that cake later too.

“Ruby Jean, it's been sixteen years since you left Woodlands. Do you think you could tell me a bit about what it was like growing up here?”

That Mr. Turner had a liddle tape recorder — it was so small it fit inside his pocket. I looked down at his hands — he was holdin a notepad an pen. He had real nice hands — yup, skin was smooth an fingers long an straight. Not a'tall like my hands with their red bumpy scars from all em years of scratchin an wrenchin em. An he sure looked like a nice man. But all the same I dint think I wanted to tell him bout my old life. I mostly tried not memberin so much bout it. Nan said I shouldn't never forget — she said I gotta member for the ones who can't.

I looked round the garden some more. I knowed it was the same place, but it dint look the same as back then. For one thing all em prickle trees have fat trunks now that make em look like big-bottomed ladies. And at the end of the garden, the old oak tree looks like a green ghost from all the moss coverin its branches. Jus then a train whistle blowed down by the river — jus like it use to when I was a liddle kid.

Down the hill was em old buildins — they looked same as they always did. Well, not zackly the same — they was empty an some of the windows was broken an the paint was peelin too. I had a funny fellin bout em buildings. Nobody lived there no more, but I kinda wondered if maybe there was spirits still inside. Ya know, spirits of sad liddle kids who died long time ago … kids like Jimmie T … who got trapped inside forever an ever. Were they still lookin out those barred windows, hopin to see someone who cared bout em? I looked hard at all em windows an waved — jus in case.

I told Mr. Turner he could turn on his recorder. I dint wanna be eight again, dint wanna walk through all em locked doors in my head — down bare hallways or into the bad kid room or the cold showers — but I knowed I had to. Yup, had to say somethin for all those ones who dint never get a chance.

“My name's Ruby Jean Sharp an I growed up in Woodlands School,” I began to tell him. “That wasn't a nice place for a liddle kid — nope, not a nice place a'tall. Sometimes the uniforms was happy with me an called me Sharp-as-a-Tack. Then some days they wasn't happy cause I'd scratch an bite an wet myself. When I was bad the uniforms shouted at me an called me names, like retard. I sure dint like bein called that. They called me that on account of they dint think I was too smart, but they was wrong. I know lots of things. An I sure am glad people don't use that word no more … ya know, the word
retard
. That's cause it's not nice … hurts people's feelins.”

I told Mr. Turner all bout the bad things at Woodlands an the good things too — like my friends Susan an Norval … bout Christmas Day, when we got to eat turkey an soft lumpy tatoes an watched movies with lots of singin an angels an happy families. An bout some of the uniforms an volunteers who tried to help us kids.