Page 29

Secrets in the Ladies Room

“…And then Daniel the duck went fast to sleep. The End.”

The group of children gathered in the museum clapped enthusiastically. Their teachers standing at the front and back of the room joined in. Poet rose from her seat, and pointed to the Blue Winged Teal and Gadwall Duck exhibit.

“Please enjoy our new children’s fowl display, some of which are interactive. Your catered lunches will be delivered in thirty minutes. Enjoy.”

She nodded as children and adults engaged her in conversation, shook hands with some of the little ones, then dismissed herself to head to her office.

It was a rather long jaunt, but she enjoyed it, passing under tall ceilings with skylights, a domed theater, and through displays of all sorts that spanned from the beginning of earthly time until modern day.

However, the children’s area did have a special place in her heart.

She loved it when her supervisor would occasionally ask for her assistance in educating and helping out with that department.

Today, Lennard had called in sick, and she was asked to cover.

She enjoyed the innocence of babies and little ones, their eagerness to learn, and found herself drawn to their special and pure magic.

As she walked, navigating past the dinosaur bones and ancient man displays, she spotted a little black girl standing by the restroom, looking to be about seven or eight, clad in a red jumper dress with a white shirt beneath it.

She wore white stockings and black MaryJane shoes—picture perfect, if it weren’t for the terrified expression on her face: frantic about the eyes.

The child was rather quiet as she leaned against the wall, eyes glassy and wide as she looked from left to right, but her silence was screaming.

“Hey, sweetheart, are you okay? Do you need help?” Poet questioned as she approached the youngster, getting on one knee so that they could be at eye-level.

The little girl with curly dark brown pony-tail puffs adorned with red bows stared at her.

Her chin trembled, and that was all she wrote.

Then, suddenly, a loud bellow gushed from the child’s mouth like an angel sounding out her alarming distress.

The sobbing was in stereo, and she was falling apart at the seams. So much so, her little chest was puffing in and out as she slid closer and closer to the glossy floor. She’s hyperventilating.

“Ohhhh, no, no, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay, baby. It’s going to be fine.” She took her wrists and squeezed them.

“It won’t. They’re gone,” the little girl managed between choppy, harsh breaths. Poet moved her fingers down to the child’s hands, and gave them too a gentle squeeze.

“Were you with a class, or someone else?”

The girl sniffed and wiped her tears on the back of her hand. “My auntie and brother.”

“Okay, we’ll find your aunt and brother.

I know this place so well, and am so good at findin’ lost things, sweetheart.

I could find a tiny marble hidden inside of a piece of pottery from the China display if I needed to.

” The little girl’s cheeks plumped ever so slightly at that.

“My name is Poet, and I work here at the museum. What’s your name?

” she asked as she stood back up, but kept the little girl’s hand close.

“April.”

“April? What a pretty name! I love your outfit, too.” The little girl looked up at her, still sniffling, but slightly calmer.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, honey.” She looked into the girl’s eyes and recognized her fear.

Her distress. Her helplessness. An unpleasant recollection crawled into Poet’s mind of a time when she too was around the little girl’s age…

but she pushed it aside, determined to stay focused.

She glanced over at the men’s restroom, and the family one that was down a little ways.

“April, baby, how old is your brother?”

“Four.”

“You know what? Your aunt may have taken him to go potty while you used the bathroom. He’s not quite old enough to go in by himself.

At least not in this day and age.” The little girl’s expression changed to confusion as she directed her gaze to the men’s bathroom—as if that were truly an idea she hadn’t considered.

A calmness came over her. Poet then spotted one of the security guards and waved him over.

“Hey, Teddy!”

The man trotted over, his gray uniform clinging to a rather prominent gut. His keys rattled as he jogged in her direction, a smile on his wide, shiny face.

“Hey, Ms. Constantine. What’s up?” he asked, a bit breathlessly, after he reached her.

“April here can’t find her little brother and aunt.

Can you go into the men’s bathroom and check for me while I walk down with April to the Family restroom?

” She pointed in the opposite direction.

“I doubt that the aunt is in there since men would be comin’ in and out, but I want to be doubly sure. You just never know.”

“Yeah, no problem. Hey, little lady,” he said to the child with an even bigger smile. He bent down, causing his ring of keys to jangle once more, and the gun and walkie talkie on his hip to shift forward. “What’s your aunt’s and lil’ brother’s name?”

“She’s my Aunt Clara, and my brother’s name is Michael. We call him, M&M.”

“Okay, gotcha.” Ted disappeared inside the men’s restroom. She could hear him faintly calling out, “Aunt Clara and Michael? M&M? Y’all in here?”

She headed down towards the family restroom. They were halfway to the restroom when a tall, finger-waved hair, wide-hipped woman in a denim jumpsuit that was splattered with water or perhaps something worse, was coming out the door.

Her face was ruddy, her expression twisted and grim, and she was tugging on a little boy’s wrist.

“Auntie!!!” the little girl squealed, then broke free from her grip and raced to meet her aunt and brother. Poet kept walking towards them until she caught up, the little girl now hugging her aunt around the legs.

“Hi, I take it you’re Aunt Clara?”

The woman looked her up and down, grimacing as if bracing herself for something she didn’t want to hear.

“…Yes.”

“My name is Poet, and I work here. I’m an educator, exhibit designer, and taxidermist. April was outside of the bathroom crying, and concerned that—”

“Look, before you start, April was doin’ number two and this here boy started gettin’ jiggle legs talkin’ ’bout he had to pee.

We couldn’t wait no longer, and I called out to April, lettin’ her know that I had to take Michael to the bathroom but she musta not heard me.

He ain’t make it.” She sighed, showing a bit of her front gold tooth.

“Soon as we got in there, he treated me like he was a firehose, and I was a building on fire. I been in there tryna clean both him and me up.”

Poet offered a sad smile, and patted the woman’s shoulder.

“I understand. When nature calls, we have to answer. She was scared. This is a big place, and it’s easy to get lost or overwhelmed. I just wanted to make sure April was okay and reunited with her family is all.”

The aunt relaxed a bit.

“Yes, we’re fine. It’s hard raisin’ these kids. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“Oh, they’re not yours?”

“Naw. My sister died six months ago. I’m raisin’ them now ’cause nobody else would take ’em, and I was an empty nester.

I couldn’t let these babies go into foster care.

” The aunt began to dump all of her woes, concerns and worries at Poet’s high-heeled feet.

“All my kids grown! I went from havin’ a second childhood, finally got my divorce from a tyrant of a man finalized, and now, all I know about is homeschoolin’, computer shit, reading bedtime stories I ain’t never heard of, these silly ass cartoons, and learnin’ all this new math.

” The woman waved her hand around. Poet chuckled.

“Yeah, it seems the schools have complicated things when it comes to math, but we just have to play along and do the best we can.”

“Oh, you got babies, too?”

Poet swallowed. “Well, no, but I work with a lot of the schools that come here, so I hear things through the grapevine.”

The woman eyed her curiously.

“Hmph. You speak so proper ’nd pretty. Like a White woman, but with a lil’ soul and edge. Got a radio voice. Maybe this is just yo’ work voice though, and you sound hood at home.”

“I sound pretty much the same way all the time, but I know what you mean.”

“Hmph. You don’t say?” The woman looked her up and down again, as if the first time didn’t answer all of her questions.

Fill in the blanks. “All that nice, thick hair. Looks like it’s yours, too.

” The lady leaned forward, eyeballing her curls.

“I don’t see no lace. Yeah, it’s yours. You got that good hair, huh? ”

“I figure all hair that grows is good hair. My hair can be a snarled, dry bird’s nest if I don’t detangle it regularly. Oh, and let me forget to tie it up at night. You talk about tumbleweed city.”

The woman snickered. “Nice to see a sista lookin’ and soundin’ like you, workin’ in a good place, with a good job.

All those fancy job titles you rattled off are impressive.

With benefits, too, right? I figured you ain’t the custodian.

Not dressed like that .” Poet reckoned that was a compliment, so she forced a smile and thanked her.

“Well, April, Auntie, and Michael, I have to get back to that job you speak of, but I’m glad everyone is okay. If you go to the information booth, they can give you some additional paper towels if you need them.”

“I’m okay. It’s half dry now anyway.”

“Good. Enjoy the rest of your visit, okay?”

April nodded happily as she rested her head against her aunt’s body.

“We will. Thanks again here? I appreciate what you did,” the woman offered sincerely, then turned away, the two children in tow.