The Teens’ Interracial Baby Didn’t Survive
I’d make an extra dollar an hour more for my efforts working with at-risk teens. My mind raced with dollar signs flying about. Just think about what I could do with an extra $230.00 a month! “I’ll take it!”
On my first day of class, Ms. Picks, the teacher, introduced me to the students as ‘Miss Debbie.’ A male student raised his hand and said, “She looks more like a Mz. Debbie.” I was proud as a peacock with my new moniker.
The levels of intellect and emotional intelligence varied vastly as is life. I was told about a 16-year-old girl picked up for prostitution when she was 13. Instantly, I wanted to meet her. She’d seen more life in her 16 years than I would in my lifetime.
While sitting at my new desk, feeling oh-so-important, a 5'11" female blond student with gorgeous green eyes strutted over and leaned her cleavage onto my papers. “Um, yes, excuse me. I’m wondering whether I have any classwork due?” I gingerly gazed my big blue eyes into hers and knew I had a tigress by the tail.
“Oh. I’m actually kinda’ new here”, I cautiously replied. “What’s your name? I’ll go through the graded papers.” She whispered in a breathy tone, “My name’s Rose Marie.” Visions of Marilyn flashed through my mind and I discovered I was nervous around this teen who already lived a thousand lives.
I fumbled through my stack of graded papers and discovered hers all complete and with 100% marks at the top. I was staring at a stellar, all-star, brilliant so-called ‘troubled’ student.
The year unfolded and I grew extremely fond of all these students, however, felt Rose Marie could be my daughter. She told me about the boys she dated during the stay at her group home. She had a particular love interest and swore this was the guy she would marry: Malikai, a teen of African American descent.
Malikai was also a student and I adored him. He would sit next to me and tell me about the white girl of his dreams. I would delicately advise, “Love has no color wheel. Go get your girl.”
Now, it was the end of the year and the natives were understandably restless as they prepared for their next journeys. I felt fulfilled with listening, learning, receiving and sharing life’s vital information. With only two days left of school, I wondered what would become of these students with whom I grew fondly attached.
While at my desk grading the final papers, Rose Marie came to me and whispered,” I need you to come to the girls’ room with me.” During lunch, I watched her doing backflips and somersaults on the play yard. She was a natural in gymnastics and modeling. I figured her athletic antics caused her lunch to act up.
I told the teacher I was taking Rose Marie to the girls’ room and would promptly return. Rose Marie went into the bathroom while I waited outside near the door. Although I wouldn’t eavesdrop, I could hear thumping and gasping inside. I tapped on the door and quietly asked, “ Rose Marie, are you alright?” There was no answer.
Feeling most anxious, I tapped harder on the bathroom door and hollered, “Oh, my God, Rose Marie. Please answer me!” Within three minutes, she walked out of the door with black mascara running down her face. I was shocked and terrified beyond words. I couldn’t speak. Had she just done drugs?! Was she experiencing an overdose? Was she dying?!
Rose Marie gently spoke, “I’m sorry to worry you, Mz. Debbie. I just had a miscarriage.” I stared into her big green eyes without breathing. She slowly put a hand on my shoulder and walked out of the bathroom. I knew she just lost her secret baby with Malikai.
To this day, I think of Rose Marie, Malikai and their beautiful baby who will never be. With their tender hopes of becoming a young family destroyed, I learned firsthand, the teens’ interracial baby didn’t survive.
