Lies, Secrets and Apple pies

Chapter Five

Babysat. 

 The Andersons were not one of my "special clients" but they were among my more interesting families. The family consisted of Julian Anderson, the dad, Kennedy Anderson, the mom, seven-year-old twins Hunter and Henley, and sixteen-year-old Lillian Anderson. 

 "Rawf! Rawf!" Melody, the family dog or mama's child, a light brown pomeranian barked. I opened the front door, and she walked in. I grabbed the nearby towel wiping her paws of any outside filth as mom said. 

 Melody ran off, and I took an almond Hershey from the bowl in the living room. I played with the twins for a few hours before putting them to sleep around eight.  We played hide and go seek, tag, and with their many tows before settling down with a movie. It was now almost nine. I had studied my psychology  notes and was now watching season one of Atypical on Netflix. 

 I was stretched out on the couch in the living room, admiring the Andersons’ decor. The Andersons home was a two-story, four-bedroom house with three bathrooms. They had a black marble kitchen that led into the backyard. In the living room were three leather couches, a bookcase, and a couple of toys. They had a patio that was surrounded by mesh to keep out the bugs. If you took a left into the living room, there was another room with a long black table and diamond-studded chairs that were rather comfy to sit in. I took another chocolate as I crossed the main hallway and into the next open room, which held fine China and a shelf of liquors. 

 "The tweebs down?" Lillian asked out of nowhere. She was wearing a pair of pink silk shorts with a matching half pink shirt. One of the black spaghetti straps sagging off of her left shoulder slightly. 

 "Yeah, they're asleep. Did you do your homework? Your mother got on me last time because your teacher called her saying you were behind." I groaned, wondering how that was my problem. Lillian and I were only two years apart. I should not have to be checking for her. 

"I didn’t do it, but I'll get to it,"  Lillian answered, walking to stand in front of me. "Unless you want to give me a hand." She continued gracefully, sliding a cream-colored hand against the hairs of my arm.

 I smacked her hand away. See what I mean? Interesting. "Lillian, do your homework. You don't need my help. I saw the A on that paper last week." Lillian was a classic case of a child pretending to be dumb for attention when in reality, she could get all As if she wanted to. —a

 Lillian shrugged her shoulders and walked to the stairs leading to the second floor of the house. She turned around, her wavy, light brown hair fluttering behind her. Lillian sighed, her pink, full lips parting a bit before turning back around and going upstairs. That girl was a mess. A mess of hormones. 

 I continued watching Atypical until my phone dinged. It was now almost ten and a text from Kennedy Anderson which said they would be home in two hours instead of the one. She assured me a handsome tip would be left and said to make sure Lillian did her homework. I ran a hand through my semi-soft, black afro. If she couldn't even get her own daughter to do her homework, how could I? I took the steps one at a time before turning right and walking to the last door. Lillian was on the door in cursive, pink, bubble letters. 

 I knocked three times in a quick session against the door. "Come in, Mi'a." I rolled my eyes at Lillian's seductive tone. Lillian's room was decorated in pink and cream colors. She had cream-colored walls and a window that overlooked the back of the house. A cream-colored mini ladder with a few books on it and a single red rose. On Lillian's soft, pink-colored bed was cream and pink-colored pillows. She had a desk and a closet with a door leading to her bathroom. A mini cream-colored cushion couch positioned a few inches away from her bed and a pink-colored couch against the window. Wow! It was nice. 

 "You like!?" Lillian asked. "I decorated my bedroom." 

 "Is that what you want to do when you're older? Home decorator." I took a seat at her desk, turning the chair around to face her. 

 Lillian waved a creamy hand casually in the air. "No way. I know I want to do something art-related, but I'll leave the home decorating to my mom. She thinks my eye needs more work anyway." Lillian mumbled more to herself than me. 

 "Let's get started on your homework. Is this it?" I took a paper off of Lillian's desk, ignoring her cries for attention. I was paid to babysit, not to reassure a sixteen-year-old her mother loved her. That was way above my pay grade, and I actually had to care.

 "Yeah, that's it. I'm supposed to write a piece on what animal is most like my race. How fun. It's so stupid, like what does this have to do with anything?" Lillian whined, rolling around in her bed like a six-year-old. 

 "This is too easy, and it's way funnier than the essays I had to do in high school. I mean, Their eyes were watching God was great and all. A very profound read but-"

 "What's Their eyes were watching God? You are so old." Lillian interrupted with a snort.

 "First of all, I'm two years older than you. So if I'm old, then you're old, and second, you go to an all-white school, I'm not surprised they don't have you reading books by black people." I lectured her immediately, regretting my choice of words. There were a few subjects I tried to avoid talking about at work, and race was at the very top, considering most of my clientele was caucasian. 

 "Yeah, what does the half-white girl know about a black book?" Lillian threw back at me. She turned around, her back now facing me. 

 I stood up and sat down on the corner of Lillian's bed. "I'm sorry, Lillian. I didn't-" 

 "What!?" Lillian yelled. She whipped her body around to face me. "You didn’t mean to question my blackness?" 

 "It's not like that. I was talking about the school, not you." I said gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Lillian gave me a little smile then looked away. "I didn’t know you were mixed with black. I kind of thought you were-"

 "Adopted. Yeah, everyone assumes that. Wavy, light brown hair, hazelnut eyes, and skin the color of a coffee that has way too much cream," Lillian began. "She’s not exactly white, no, not like Henley and Hunter with their blond hair, blue eyes, and fair skin- the perfect shade of white. They look like their parents. She- I do not. I must be adopted." Lillian sniffed, a stray tear escaping her eyes. 

 "Lillian, I didn't know-" 

 "And how could you. You've been coming here for two weeks, three times a week. You never asked, and my mom because she is-my biological mom. She didn't think to tell you. I'm just the don't ask, don't tell thing in the room. I guess my animal can be an elephant. I'm not all the way white or black, so why not just be a big, gray elephant?" 

 This was too much. Too much emotion. Too much work and not enough money. I couldn't relate to Lillian's situation. I was all black. One race. One thing. When people saw me, they didn't wonder what I was. If just a little, I was human and seeing Lillian cry made me feel sad for her. 

 "You're a lion." 

 Lillian looked up, dropping her hands from her red hue face. "What?" 

 "Your two things but more than that, you're unique. You can pass as white or black, really, but you're unique. So in a mix of all white kids, be that cocoa puff. That one coco puff can turn the whole milk brown," I had no idea what I was saying at this point, and I wasn't sure if Lillian did either. She had a confused look on her face but was nodding her head up and down. "I think a lion represents black people pretty good. The moms or females do all the hunting- grocery shopping, and the dads or males eat. The mom’s fight, and the dad protects. They are usually a bunch of females and only one male same in a black household. . ."