It’s her constitutional right!”
Finally the DMV woman disappeared into the back of the office. She returned with permission from a superior to take the photo with Kathy wearing her scarf. As the flash went off, Kathy tried to smile.
Growing up in Baton Rouge, it was a crowded house, full of clamorand extremes. Nine kids shared a one-story, 1,400-square-foot home, sleeping three to a room and squabbling over one bathroom. They were content, though, or as content as could be expected, and the neighborhood was tidy, working-class, full of families. Kathy’s house backed up against Sherwood Middle School, a big multiethnic campus where Kathy felt overwhelmed. She was one of a handful of white students, and she was picked on, pushed around, gawked at. She grew to be quick to fight, quick to argue.
She must have run away from home a dozen times, maybe more. And almost every time she did, from age six or so on, she ran to her friend Yuko’s house. It was just a few blocks away, on the other side of the high school, and given that she and Yuko were among the few non–African American kids in the neighborhood, they had bonded as outsiders. Yuko and her mother Kameko were alone in their house; Kameko’s husband had been killed by a drunk driver when Yuko was small. Even though Yuko was three years older, she and Kathy grew inseparable, and Kameko was so welcoming and dedicated to Kathy’s well-being that Kathy came to call her Mom.
Kathy was never sure why Kameko took her in, but she was careful not to question it. Yuko joked that her mom just wanted to get close enough to Kathy to bathe her. As a kid Kathy didn’t like baths much, and they weren’t a great priority in her house, so every time she was at Yuko’s, Kameko filled the tub. “She looks greasy,” Kameko would joke to Yuko, but she loved to make Kathy clean, and Kathy looked forward to it—Kameko’s hands washing her hair, her long fingernails tickling her neck, the warmth of a fresh, heavy towel around her shoulders.
After high school Kathy and Yuko grew closer. Kathy moved into an apartment off Airline Highway in Baton Rouge, and they beganworking together at Dunkin’ Donuts. The independence meant everything to Kathy. Even in her small apartment off a six-lane interstate, there was a sense of order and quiet to her life that she had never known.
A pair of Malaysian sisters used to come into the shop, and Yuko began talking to them, questioning them. “What does that scarf mean?” “What do you see in Islam?” “Are you allowed to drive?” The sisters were open, low-key, never proselytizing. Kathy had no real inkling that they had made a great impression on Yuko, but Yuko was captivated. She began reading about Islam, investigating the Qur’an. Soon the Malaysian sisters brought Yuko pamphlets and books, and Yuko delved deeper.
When she caught on to how serious Yuko was about it, it drove Kathy to distraction. They’d both been brought up Christian, had gone to a rigorous Christian elementary school. It was baffling to see her friend dabbling in this exotic faith. Yuko had been as devout a Christian as walked the Earth—and Kameko was even more so.
“What would your mom think?” she asked.
“Just keep an open mind,” Yuko said. “Please.”
A few years passed, and Kathy, through a series of missteps and heartbreaks, was divorced and living alone with Zachary, who was less than a year old. She was renting the same apartment off Airline Highway and working two jobs. In the mornings she was a checkout clerk at K&B, a chain drugstore on the highway. One day the manager of Webster Clothes, a menswear store across the road, had come into the drugstore and, admiring Kathy’s ebullient personality, asked her if she’d be willing to quit K&B or, if not, take a second job at Webster. Kathy needed the money, so she said yes to the second job. After finishing in the early afternoon at K&B, she would walk across the highway to Webster andwork
Finally the DMV woman disappeared into the back of the office. She returned with permission from a superior to take the photo with Kathy wearing her scarf. As the flash went off, Kathy tried to smile.
Growing up in Baton Rouge, it was a crowded house, full of clamorand extremes. Nine kids shared a one-story, 1,400-square-foot home, sleeping three to a room and squabbling over one bathroom. They were content, though, or as content as could be expected, and the neighborhood was tidy, working-class, full of families. Kathy’s house backed up against Sherwood Middle School, a big multiethnic campus where Kathy felt overwhelmed. She was one of a handful of white students, and she was picked on, pushed around, gawked at. She grew to be quick to fight, quick to argue.
She must have run away from home a dozen times, maybe more. And almost every time she did, from age six or so on, she ran to her friend Yuko’s house. It was just a few blocks away, on the other side of the high school, and given that she and Yuko were among the few non–African American kids in the neighborhood, they had bonded as outsiders. Yuko and her mother Kameko were alone in their house; Kameko’s husband had been killed by a drunk driver when Yuko was small. Even though Yuko was three years older, she and Kathy grew inseparable, and Kameko was so welcoming and dedicated to Kathy’s well-being that Kathy came to call her Mom.
Kathy was never sure why Kameko took her in, but she was careful not to question it. Yuko joked that her mom just wanted to get close enough to Kathy to bathe her. As a kid Kathy didn’t like baths much, and they weren’t a great priority in her house, so every time she was at Yuko’s, Kameko filled the tub. “She looks greasy,” Kameko would joke to Yuko, but she loved to make Kathy clean, and Kathy looked forward to it—Kameko’s hands washing her hair, her long fingernails tickling her neck, the warmth of a fresh, heavy towel around her shoulders.
After high school Kathy and Yuko grew closer. Kathy moved into an apartment off Airline Highway in Baton Rouge, and they beganworking together at Dunkin’ Donuts. The independence meant everything to Kathy. Even in her small apartment off a six-lane interstate, there was a sense of order and quiet to her life that she had never known.
A pair of Malaysian sisters used to come into the shop, and Yuko began talking to them, questioning them. “What does that scarf mean?” “What do you see in Islam?” “Are you allowed to drive?” The sisters were open, low-key, never proselytizing. Kathy had no real inkling that they had made a great impression on Yuko, but Yuko was captivated. She began reading about Islam, investigating the Qur’an. Soon the Malaysian sisters brought Yuko pamphlets and books, and Yuko delved deeper.
When she caught on to how serious Yuko was about it, it drove Kathy to distraction. They’d both been brought up Christian, had gone to a rigorous Christian elementary school. It was baffling to see her friend dabbling in this exotic faith. Yuko had been as devout a Christian as walked the Earth—and Kameko was even more so.
“What would your mom think?” she asked.
“Just keep an open mind,” Yuko said. “Please.”
A few years passed, and Kathy, through a series of missteps and heartbreaks, was divorced and living alone with Zachary, who was less than a year old. She was renting the same apartment off Airline Highway and working two jobs. In the mornings she was a checkout clerk at K&B, a chain drugstore on the highway. One day the manager of Webster Clothes, a menswear store across the road, had come into the drugstore and, admiring Kathy’s ebullient personality, asked her if she’d be willing to quit K&B or, if not, take a second job at Webster. Kathy needed the money, so she said yes to the second job. After finishing in the early afternoon at K&B, she would walk across the highway to Webster andwork
Similar Books
