Chapter 4- First Dinner Together
After Mrs. Wayne's joy and surprise over seeing me alive lessened some she and Mr. Wayne took me upstairs to my bedroom. Now it being considered my bedroom was still a strange novelty for me. It was even stranger the size of it. I had never seen a bedroom look so big in my life. I think was even too big to be really comfortable in it.
"What do you think of your room, Roberta?" Mrs. Wayne asked, stroking my hair gently as if she owned it.
"It's big," was all I could think of to say. My backpack was beside my bed. True to his word, Alfred had brought my stuff up here and the way it looked he didn't go nosing through my things.
"It was your room when you lived here," Mr. Wayne said. He might not have meant to sound abrupt, but he did. Was he upset that I couldn't remember? It wasn't my fault that my memories were scattered and fragmented.
Biting my lips I entered the huge room. I felt like I was in an old mausoleum. I seriously felt like a small flea and someone was going to step on me. I had felt myself shaking inwardly since I had found the milk carton. Now my shaking was on the outside. My knees gave way and I landed with a loud thud on the wooden floor.
It took me a couple of minutes to realize that Mrs. Wayne had come to my side and had wrapped her arms around me gently. For some strange reason she was a comfort. Normally when I was this upset I wanted my mother. The way I figured it Mrs. Wayne was a good substitute.
Looking at Mr. Wayne I wondered if he could substitute for my father. True, he had hugged me earlier, but he stood there with a stoic look on his face. I dismissed that thought that he could be like my father. As all of you can see I still wasn't ready to admit that the Waynes' were my parents. Never mind the fact that I looked enough like Mr. Wayne to be his duplicate.
I sat there on the floor, letting Mrs. Wayne rock me in her arms. I was tired, starting to feel hungry, and I couldn't stop shaking. I guess it was my nerves since I hadn't really eaten or slept in the past couple of days. The only thing I didn't do was start to cry. I know, I did it in Mr. Wayne's office, but for some stupid reason I couldn't here.
Mrs. Wayne must have been expecting me to. She rubbed my back gently, but that didn't make me want to cry. It just made me feel sleepy. "Rachel, let's get her on the bed. Roberta has got to be so tired," Mr. Wayne said, his voice sounding like it was coming from down a long tunnel.
"Oh. I am so sorry, Roberta," Mrs. Wayne apologized. I felt a strong pair of arms lift me from the floor and place me on the bed. It was so comfortable that I felt myself go to sleep instantly. This bed was nothing like the bed that I had when I went to visit my Indian relatives. That bed is made of braided leather and is like a bunkbed in a wall. This bed was soft and cool and the sheets were the softest silk. The quilt that Mrs. Wayne covered me with was made of taffeta. I just fell asleep, feeling like I was in a soft nest.
I woke up a twilight sun shining in my face. I felt like Frodo in "The Lord of the Rings" after he gets stabbed by the Ring-Wraiths on Weathertop and he wakes up to the sun shining on him and Gandalf the Wizard watching over him. The sun wasn't bright, but it gave my room a golden hue. I got out of bed and went to the window.
The view from this side of Wayne Manor was impressive. I felt as if I could look forever. It looked like a scene in two books I had read on Scotland and Ireland. As I stood there watching the scenery I didn't hear the door open until someone spoke in my ear, causing me to jump.
"I'm sorry, Miss Roberta, but your father asked that I check on you. He also says that if you are awake that it's time for dinner," Alfred apologized. The man looked really sorry so I decided to forgive him for scaring me.
"It's all right. Just let me brush my hair," I said, going over to my bag and pulling out my porcupine brush that a cousin had given me. Porcupines are really a lot better on your hair than a regular brush made from hog's bristles. At this point my hair was a shining and glittering thing. All you have to do is get the tail of a porcupine and turn it into a brush.
I unbraided my hair, taking care not to jerk and tug on the leather strips entwined with my long dark hair. I brushed my hair carefully. "What kind of brush is that, Miss?" Alfred asked, looking at my crude brush.
"Porcupine. It makes your hair shine," I said, laying the brush down and braiding my hair carefully. I went into my bathroom and washed my hands and face with lavender soap. I was finally ready to eat dinner. I just hoped dinner was something I could actually eat. Knowing how most white people are they very often eat food that shouldn't even be touched. Living among Indians I had picked up their dietary habits. I just hoped there was something like corn or beans on the table.
I followed Alfred into the dining room where Mr. and Mrs. Wayne sat at the table. Mrs. Wayne smiled at me as she came over to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulder. "Did you sleep well?" Mrs. Wayne asked, kissing my cheek gently.
"I guess so. I don't normally take naps. There's just too much to do during the day. At least I carry my valerian tea with me," I said, sitting down in the chair next to Mr. Wayne.
"Valerian tea?" Mr. Wayne asked, unfolding a linen napkin.
"Yeah. It's a plant that smells bad, but puts you to sleep. I take it nearly every night. It's pretty healthy," I said, looking at the covered dishes and praying silently over the food. Even if I couldn't eat it, it didn't hurt to pray.
I sat down in a chair on Mr. Wayne's right side. Mrs. Wayne sat across from me. I watched as Alfred opened the silver casings over the food. My stomach turned as I looked at hamburgers and French fries. I don't eat hamburgers. My meat intake is normally deer, bear and turkey meat, which taste really good and hardly have any grease on it to make me feel sick.
"How do you like your hamburger, Roberta?" Mrs. Wayne asked, taking my plate.
"I...I…I don't really eat hamburgers, Mrs. Wayne. I have a medical condition that prevents me from enjoying it," I said feebly, feeling like a wimp. My reaction to a hamburger was probably all in my head, but I wasn't about to test getting sick if I ate one.
"You get sick?" Mr. Wayne asked.
"Yes. I've been raised among Indians who don't eat cows. I eat some kinds of meat. Just not that one," I said, playing with the linen napkin beside my plate nervously.
"Is there anything you can eat instead, Miss Roberta?" Alfred asked.
"I eat vegetables. If you have corn, squash, or beans that will work," I said. It was a little abrupt, but I hated hamburgers. Anything to keep me from eating one was helpful. Alfred went into the kitchen, leaving me with my parents.
"I'm sorry. You used to love hamburgers when you were three. I just thought-"Mrs. Wayne started to say taking my hand in hers and stroking it gently. I felt sorry for her. Because of my eating habits I had ruined a meal. I had to say something to make her feel better.
"I'm sorry. I know you didn't know. But you two can eat the hamburgers. Just because I can't eat them doesn't mean that you two should let them go to waste," I said, hoping this made her feel better. I don't think it did, but there was nothing wrong with trying to make someone feel better.
The rest of the meal was awkward. I didn't know what to say to my parents. If I told them about my life among Indians they would get upset. If I told them what my father and mother were like they'd get upset and tell me that they weren't my parents. Either way I was failing miserably.
The rest of the night didn't really right itself after that. It seems as if I didn't have much to say to them and they didn't have much to say to me either. Also I was combating homesickness. This was different than the time I went to summer camp for two weeks. I knew that I would be home and with my parents after the two week period. This time I didn't know if I'd see my family again. And that's what made it hurt worse. My heart felt empty.