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#Post#: 19--------------------------------------------------
Dinner with Zia
DIR By: StoryGod
Date: November 26, 2019, 7:56 am
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Marion was grateful her roommate was not one of those big,
overdeveloped farm girls, she had been forced to share
classrooms with in eighth grade. They weren't really farm girls,
but they were large, confident, unworldly, and had breasts like
shelves or the prows of ships. Yes, Marion was a bit green with
envy even if mammary glands her classmates size would have
looked grotesque on her small frame. At the same, time the "farm
girls," as she remembered them had very little idea how the
outside world or even the world of adult money worked. Marion,
by contrast had been current events champ in her social studies
class. Zia was from Kenya. Boy was that refreshing! True the
girl seemed unusually prim and proper, in her white Peter Pan
collar shirt and her gray twill army pants and black leather
shoes, but Marion realized she could have done a lot worse.
Zia walked with Marion and the rest of her suite on the campus
trail. They were near the tail end of a crowd of eight teenage
women, and one small, young looking adult who was their self
appointed leader and guardian. Marion decided that Miella, due
to her age alone, was an improvement over Aunt Judith, Uncle
Niles wife. "No Aunt Judith," Marion conversed with herself in
her head. "You are not my mother. You will never be my mother,
cause you didn't give birth to me and until recently you didn't
bring me up." And it did not matter if Marion's mother was in a
sober home down in Florida along with her dad. Marion wondered
how long that would last. Marion's parents were not sober home
people. They only submitted to rehab because it was better than
jail. This time they had ankle bracelets and could not leave the
state of Florida. It was the second time they had clashed with
the law in two years. "My parents are not bad people," Marion
told herself again. "They are just effing stupid! I'm smarter
than they are. That's not saying much, but I work hard in
school. That's saying something."
"Look at all these people going to dinner," Zia broke Marion's
reverie.
"There's 4,800 students here," Marion remembered the FANTASTIC
Student Manual. Why had she memorized the FANTASTIC thing? That
was a rhetorical question.
"How do they get them all in one refectory?"
"Refectory....?" It sounded like refectoire in French.
"Dining hall, but that sounds so grand."
"It better be half decent. The food in my last school was shit."
"The food at St. Anne's had too many onions in it. It was the
only thing I think some of those Sisters could taste."
"Here it will be pretty bland...The problem is all the choices
could stink you know?"
"You'll live with it. We have to eat you know."
Marion knew that was all too true. She had been up since four
thirty that morning. Uncle Niles, Aunt Judith, and two cousins
and two siblings, had all left Malta for the eight hour drive to
Westchester County, near New York City. Judith had packed a
cooler of tuna sandwiches, none of which had pickle. "I'm not
making you something special," Aunt Judith was on a snit. The
snit was perpetual. Shaunna, the governess, had at least known
how to grease the wheels with small favors. Bread and butter
pickles and tuna were an effective bribe or at least mood
lifter. Their absence was just one more reason for Marion to
stay her usually, sullen self.
As a result, Marion refused the eleven am lunch at a rest stop
with a McDonalds. "I'm not buying you anything," Aunt Judith
told Marion's younger brothers and sisters. Aunt Judith's own
children knew enough not to ask. The younger siblings were good
at begging. Marion always held pocket money in reserve, but her
brother was being his usual clueless,
disloyal-to-the-real-parents, turd self, so she decided not to
treat. "Where are you going?" asked Aunt Judith. "To get
something in the rest stop," Marion told her Aunt. "Don't worry,
Mom and Dad are not in New York State." She said this last just
to stick it in and give it a good twist.
It was gratuitous because she won. In two years, she refused to
accept Aunt Judith and Uncle Niles as her parents, something the
baby, O'Reilly, and the younger sister, Cheryl, who should have
known better both did. Even Jared, her younger brother, had
sense to keep Judith and Niles, Aunt and Uncle. He was close to
them. He did not want to go back to his real parents, or to Fort
Worth, but he was an idiot. Marion had never forgot that the law
had sent her to Malta against her will. Now Aunt Judith and
Uncle Niles realized that given the chance, she would reunite
with her parents. All they had to do was come to New York State.
Marion said she would visit her parents mostly, at least for
starters. She needed to live one place and go to school, and the
house in Malta, was as good a pied a terre as any. The house in
Fort Worth had been sold to pay family debts.
Still Aunt Judith and Uncle Niles did more than lick their
wounds in defeat. They suffered in humiliation. It had started
when Marion had obtained her parents address, both in jai and
then in the apartment in Biloxi where they had to stay until
their trial, and then the rehab back in Texas. Since Aunt Judith
insisted they open all parental mail together, Marion asked her
math teacher if she could use his address to receive parental
letters. Then Marion's parents had skipped off to Mexico. Marion
managed to buy stamps (She now needed extra stamps) on the fly.
She received texts from her mother at all hours. and had to turn
off text announcements on her phone to keep the message from
waking up, disloyal and stupid Cheryl.
Only when her parents arrested again this spring this time in
Miami, Florida that Marion's hidden correspondence and texts had
come to light. Authorities had confiscated Marion's mother's
phone and forced mom to give up her password. They found the
messages from Marion and Marion found herself phoneless and her
Aunt and Uncle angry beyond words. "We thought we could trust
you...." began the parental lecture they had no business giving.
"I have a right to my privacy and to be in contact with my
parents," Marion defended herself. It was a good defense even if
Niles and Judith had the law sort of on their side and the power
of being adults. They used this power by casting the
recalcitrant niece into exile at Kotiah-Yovanovitch.
So Marion swaggered into the McDonald's at eleven am and ordered
a hot chocolate. It was too early for any sane and civilized
person to eat lunch. She blew on her drink. "Can I have some?"
weedled Cheryl. "You'll burn your mouth."
"When it cools off then."
"You know, Marion, you're very selfish."
"I'm very broke."
"You're going to learn a lot at school."
"I hope so."
Marion was already learning how far a single hot chocolate could
take her. It wasn't even a very good hot chocolate, but
adrenaline, sugar, milk, and stubbornness had held her together
this far. The hunger pangs in her stomach were a distant cry.
Especially when she saw the line for the dining hall (Yes that
was probably too grand) spill out, down the steps of
Landon-Burchard-Durren and onto the quad trails.
"What gives?" Kia wondered aloud.
"Everyone's going to eat at once," Miella, the Suite Advsior
answered. A Suite Advisor leading a band of ten year old boys,
lined up behind Miella's group. Marion thought of Jared and
pushed the thought from her mind. Jared, Cheryl, two of Judith
and Niles' children and of course the Aunt and Uncle were
heading backup the ThruWay and then the Northway to Malta. Home
was here now. "I'll put up with hard bread and dirty water or
I'll starve," Marion told herself.
#Post#: 20--------------------------------------------------
Re: Dinner with Zia
DIR By: StoryGod
Date: November 27, 2019, 9:36 am
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Miella dug her cell phone out of her canvas purse and clicked on
the screen. She looked up. "The line is moving!" she yelled in a
voice that resonated throughout the quad. For a small person,
she had a very large voice. Zia shook her head. Marion's stomach
rumbled. The line moved, stopped, and moved again. Someone
pushed a student in a wheel chair up the ramp into
Landon-Burchard-Durren. Another student wheeled himself inside.
A third wheelchair bound student left the line and wheeled to
and up the ramp.
The line inched inside and formed a circle around the lobby,
flowing up the stairs. "This is so much bigger than Malta Middle
School or Malta High School," Marion thought of the crowd. She
thought of being able to take French 2 in a real class instead
of online in the Computer Lab. Uncle Niles had gone to bat for
her with BOCES so she could continue French 1 at the end of
seventh grade eighteen months ago. "I'm an ungrateful little
shit," Marion sing-songed to herself. "No," she changed her
mind. "I'm a great, big, ungrateful turdling. Oh yes I am."
"Now when you get into the dining hall, I'll find us a table and
go to get my own food," Miella boomed to her charges. Miella
fished a fire, orange silk scarf from her purse and dextrously
waved it then caught it one handed. "I'm going to tie this to
one of the spider plants by the window. This is where we meet
up. There are two hot lines for the main bar, one line at each
specialty station, and a bunch of bars that don't get lines. You
just get your food and go. Go to whatever line you need, get
your food and drinks and then bring your tray to the table under
the scarf....any questions."
"We don't have assigned tables?" asked Zia.
"Nope," half sung Miella.
At the top of the stairs, wheel chair bound students emerged
from the elevator and waited for their groups. "You should be
grateful," Marion sing-songed something Aunt Judith might say.
"For what...." Marion asked imaginary Aunt Judith. "I have
troubles of my own. Sucks to be you. Sucks to be me."
A member of the dining hall staff stood on the landing at the
top of the stairs. "When you get inside," she tried to imitate
Miella's volume and reach but she sounded like screaming through
a bullhorn instead of just being rich, loud, and oddly mellow.
"...There are only four lines, two at the main hot bar and one
at each specialty station. The cold bars, salad bar, Bar Bar,
bread and junkfood Bar, and beverages are grab and go. Don't
make a line there. If the line looks too long, start at one of
the places without a line. If you spread yourself out you'll get
your meal faster."
Then the dining hall employee began her announcement again. "She
must have it memorized," Marion thought with grudging
admiration.
An easel outside the dining hall's double doors, advertised the
evening's dinner menu: (I'll be back for more)
LBD Dinner 8/29/20
Main Line
Beef Tips Pizzaiola
Chicken Florentine
Creamy Clam Fettuccine
Garden Vegetable Lasagne
Roma Green Beans
Broccoli Florets
Cold Bar
Cherry Tomatoes Capreze
Marinated Wax Beans
Fresh Fruit
Assorted Baked Desserts
Specialty Station 1
Pizza by the Slice
Specialty Station 2
Cantonese Stir Fry
Fried Rice with Egg
Welcome Back to School
"It's like a restaurant in there," Zia commented.
"Let's see if there's truth in advertising," Marion replied.
#Post#: 21--------------------------------------------------
Re: Dinner with Zia
DIR By: StoryGod
Date: November 27, 2019, 3:46 pm
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The four entrees and two specialty stations were there. The cold
bars and beverages were there. Marion did not go looking for
cereal. She got her salad, an orange, and a tall Cherry Coke
first, and then lined up in one of two long lines for the main
bar. She returned to the pushed together tables for eight with
vegetable lasagne, string beans, broccoli, cucumbers with olives
and creamy Italian dressing, an orange and a Cherry Coke.
Zia who sat across from her drank milk and had chosen some sort
of meat in red sauce. It turned out to be beef pizzaiola. She
said it was decent. The lasange was pretty good too, and there
were fresh cucumbers and at least one sort of pickle.
"I wonder if they do this every night," Zia spoke up.
"I have no idea," answered Marion, who now realized how hungry
she had been.
"They'll do it until you get sick of it," a tall girl with jeans
that were more rip than fabric answered.
Zia said she arrived from Nairobi on Thursday morning and had
stayed in the Crown Hotel in White Plains for two nights. She
asked Marion if she had ever been to Westchester County before.
Marion could not remember, but she had been to New York City a
couple of times. She had been lots of places, now that she
thought about it. "The last time I came to New York it was by
boat."
"Cruise ship?" asked Zia.
"No yacht. My dad used to have a boat he called the S.S. Ship.
He thought that was funny." Dad was a pretty good sailor when he
was sober, and usually kept Ship moored or anchored when he was
stoned or else someone else drove. There was always a big crew
on Ship, Mom of course, the siblings, and then friends, always
lots of friends, and of course Shaunna and the nanny, Sioux.
They had been a colorful crowd that stood out like a turd in a
punch bowl.
"We docked in Staten Island and took the Ferry into Manhattan. I
was in fifth grade at the time. My parents took me out of school
for a week." That was the part Marion hated, having to make
everything up. "I remember how wide all the streets were and
everybody walking everywhere. It reminded me of ants under a
rock."
"New York is a rich place. White Plains is almost as rich," Zia
commented. "My parents took us to Van Cortland Manner and we
saw all these people in clothes from the 16 and 1700's doing
crafts. They even showed us the toilets."
"The ones people went on back in the day."
Zia nodded. She took a bite of pizzaiola. "This is a very old
part of the world. The British came here before they came to my
country."
"My family is from New York State," Marion offered, but they
weren't really from anywhere. Fort Worth was home, but home was
gone. Shaunna was unemployed. This was going to be home now.
"I thought you said you were from Texas."
"I grew up in Fort Worth, but fifteen months ago, my aunt and
uncle in Malta, New York took me to live with them. My parents
got in trouble for drugs. It kind of sucks."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's their fault."
"It must be hard."
"That is an understatement. I hope my parents can put all this
behind them and visit me some time. I'm not going to let them
take me out of school and stuff like that."
"Of course..." Zia all but purred. "When parents send kids away,
they have to leave them alone. My mum said it was hard with me,
but easier with my sister, Liza. It will be even easier with
Jahran. He's next."
"How many kids are there in your family?"
"I'm the first of six. How about you?"
"First of four."
"How many boys and girls?"
"Two of each. How about you?"
"Four girls and two boys. My mum says boys are easier."
"Boys are... not too bright."
"They just like to play sport and rough games, you know. That's
why Jahran is going off to military school."
"Is that worse than a convent?"
"Convent school is not prison. It's strict, but parents worry
when a child goes away from home."
"Then why not go to day school?"
"It's different in Nairobi. It's like living in a bubble. My
parents are afraid I'll never be self reliant if the driver
takes me every day to school and I spend most of the rest of my
time on the estate or with them or the servants."
Marion thought of her life in Fort Worth. Yes, Shaunna drove
Felix and her to school evvery day, but they did spend time with
other kids... They were free to roam the neighborhood on
weekends and in the late afternoons. Marion tried to imagine a
very wealthy family in Africa, but drew a blank.
"I'm being sent here to keep my parents from kidnapping me.
They're in Florida now, but that won't be forever. I won't let
them kidnap me but Aunt Judith and Uncle Niles don't see it that
way."
"How can your parents kidnap you if you're already theirs?"
"My aunt and uncle have temporary custody of me while my parents
are in jail and rehab. It's just temporary."
"Then it would be your parents taking you back?"
"Not really. My parents have to earn their way back. Maybe
they'll do it. They love us kids. They'd never hurt us, but...
it's hard to explain."
"I'm sorry."
"You hardly know me."
"We're roommates."
"By accident."
"I hope not. I hope it works out, you know?"
"I hope it works out too."
"Are you pissed at your parents for sending you here?"
"Not really. I was angry the first winter in sixth grade.
England is cold compared to Kenya. I was sometimes the only
brown face. They say there are Africans in White Plains. I think
they are West African but at least, there's someone like me."
"Aren't there Africans in London and West Indians too?"
"Yes, but I never got down to London during the term. Here they
let you out on the weekends. My parents finally decided I have
to learn about the world." Zia did not sound any too thrilled
about learning about the world.
"Sometimes I think we all make our own worlds," Marion offered.
"That is deep."
"It depends on how you arrange things for yourself and how much
money you have and what you believe."
"Yes, but reality is objective."
"Yes, but your choices control what part of reality you see,
kind of like the way this cafeteria is set up, but here all the
options cost the same. If you have money you can have choices
other people don't and that changes what's on your tray. It
doesn't work for everything, like gravity or getting in trouble
with the police if you do something stupid."
"My mother might agree with you. I almost agree with you." Zia
glanced out the window. Kids were already exiting the dining
hall. Several kids at the other end of the big table under the
orange scarf were getting up from their meal. Miella motioned
them to stay. This Saturday night, they had a tight schedule.
First there would be an ice breaker, because there was no point
in crowding the beading tables which would be a total mob scene.
Then it was off to make beaded necklaces for their credentials
(D-Cards) that they had to wear on campus at all times. Then one
of the Suite Advisors were going to be DJing so there would be
music and snacks, and maybe video games. All this would happen
in the tenth and twelfth grade buildings' lounges.
"I don't know how to dance with boys," Kia told Marion.
"I don't either but maybe girls can dance together or by
themselves."
Zia shook her head.
"I wonder if we'll have to wear our D-Cards to the dance,"
Marion spoke up.
"You have to. It's a school rule," Miella advised her and the
rest of the kids. "If you don't want your card to flop around,
tuck it in your shirt."
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