Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

Carol’s Corner

June 8, 2007

A Beautiful Little Girl

Carol Roach

I was a little girl who knew the pain of rejection.  Ever since my best friend left to go to another school while we were in the second grade, I had to learn to make new friends.  I was a social outcast who was painfully shy.  Even though I tried to fit in, I couldn’t.  So I developed the strategy of befriending newcomers as they came to our school.  Most of these kids were black children from Nova Scotia.  Their families came to Montreal to find work.

Claudine was one such friend. We met in elementary school and continued as friends throughout our adult life.  However, during our elementary and high school days we had a somewhat rocky friendship. We shared a lot of good times and some not so good ones as well.  Despite my need for friends, often time our personalities clashed. She was bold and brash and everyone liked her, I was shy and gentle and no one really took notice of me.  Nevertheless she was the dominant one in the relationship and I tagged along.

One time she dragged me to the house of a strange lady. I didn’t want to go but she said to me,

“Oh come on, what is wrong with you, do you think she is going to eat you or something.”

She told me this lady was her friend.  Claudine was fourteen, I was thirteen and the lady had to be at least twenty five or so.  I couldn’t understand how Claudine could have friends that old.  My feelings were kind of obvious because I felt the lady treated me as a child, yet she seemed to treat Claudine as an adult. The two of them were talking about adult matters, while I just sat there half listening to the discussions. I was more interested in gazing at her children.

Maya was also a black woman. Her two children were bi-racial and almost as “white as snow.” I was particularly enchanted with the oldest child, the little girl.  The little boy was just a toddler and the little girl was about four years old. She was the most beautiful child I had every seen in my entire life.  Even though I really did want to want to participate fully in the discussion between Maya and my friend, I also wanted to play with Shari.

I immediately loved this child.  Shari was not only the prettiest little thing but she was smart and funny.  In an effort to get the child to leave the kitchen, so we all could talk in peace over a cup of tea, Maya told Shari that her Aunt was waiting for her in her bedroom.  That ruse lasted for all of two minutes.  Shari came out with a pout on her face and hands on her hips and announced,

“Mama you fished me! Auntie Ro (Roberta) is not in therrrr. That was not very nice!”  Back in the late sixties and early seventies to fish somebody meant to fool them.  Claudine cried out in laughter, “Maya your daughter is a little woman!” and then we all laughed including Shari who really enjoyed the attention.

We left shortly afterwards as Maya needed to bath and get her children to bed for the evening.  Of course Claudine scolded me for being so quiet. She said, “You’re acting all white,” meaning that I was being uppity. She couldn’t understand I was quiet, especially around adults I didn’t know.

The next day I still couldn’t get little Shari out of my mind and I wanted to apologize to Maya for not being more sociable. After all I didn’t want Maya to think I was rude. 

Since it was Sunday and Maya lived across the street from the church I attended, I decided I would pass by her house on my way home.  I would apologize to her and at the same time ask her if I could take Shari to the park for awhile.  The park was just in back of the church.   

No one knew how much bravery it took for me to go up to that door and assert myself like that.  But I knew I had to do it. 

“You want to take Shari to the park?”

“Yes Mam”

“I hardly know you, I only met you yesterday.”

“I know Mam but I will take good care of her I promise.”

“Don’t take your eyes off her for one minute, do you understand me.  And be back in an hour, I don’t want her out longer than that.  And for god sake don’t call me mam, my name is Maya.”

I took this beautiful little girl to the park and was back on time. 

I didn’t have to call Claudine that evening to tell her what I had done; she called me.  Of course she scolded me yet again. 

“How could you go up to Maya like that and ask to take Shari to the park.  She don’t know you.”

“She let me take her didn’t she!”

“That’s because she’s too nice to say no.  Maya was worried sick over Shari the whole time you were gone. Don’t you ever do that again!”

I never went back to Maya’s house uninvited nor was I ever asked back either. But I never forget that beautiful little girl.

Years later after I was already married and then divorced, Claudine invited me to go back and visit Maya.  By now Maya had a second daughter and her son and that daughter were already teenagers.  Claudine shocked me when she told me that Shari had died when she was eight years old.  I have no idea why Claudine never told me before;  I had inquired about the Shari over the years.

“How did she die?”

“She died in the hospital, they don’t know from what. Now don’t you bring that all up in front of Maya and make her feel bad do you hear me.  I am only telling you about it now so you don’t.”

I never brought the subject up to Maya and after visiting with her, woman to woman, we hit it off immediately and became good friends. Maya still was a very quiet person and by this time I was the talkative one.  Eventually though, she did tell me what happened to beautiful little Shari without me having to ask her.

Shari started off with what looked like the flu, and then one evening she went into a seizure right in front of her mother.  Maya called the ambulance and they rushed her to the hospital.  Right from the start, the hospital staff kept tight lipped about what happened to her.   

They confirmed she had a seizure but did not know why.  The child was hooked up to a life support system.  All they told my friend was that Shari had suffered severe brain damage. Maya inquired daily about her daughter’s condition, but still did not get any new information.  Finally one day the doctor came in to Shari’s room to see her.

Maya told me by the way he was talking, it sounded like Shari was already dead. Maya confronted the doctor and asked him why he was talking that way.  Shari was not dead, she was looking at her child on the life support system as they spoke.  The doctor left the room without ever answering her question.

The following day she was given the horrible news that her daughter had passed away.  She wanted to know how it happened and what caused it. She still did not get any answers.  They would not even give her a death certificate.  She battled the case for years. All that come of it was that the lawyer was able to get the death certificate; it simply stated cause of death unknown.

I was so distraught about this poor women and her story that I wrote my fictional account of Maya’s life story including the death of the most beautiful little girl I ever met in my novel, Angels Watching Over Me. http://www.lulu.com/content/644485