A Love Story - 2. Chapter 2 - Troy Fucks Up

Several months passed since the boy was released from the hospital into temporary foster care. Finally, Ernie gained permission to foster the boy in his home and today his 2011 red Camaro slipped into a parking spot in front of a townhouse in the Park Slope neighborhood of Brooklyn, New York. The boy in the passenger seat stared at a late model yellow MINI Cooper in front of him. He looked over at Ernie and asked, “Is that yourn?”

“No, that belongs to our neighbor across the street,” Ernie said.

“Why you let him park front of your place?”

“Just being neighborly. Do you understand that?”

“Din’ know you was a sissy.”

“Troy, you’ve got a lot to learn about this city if you’re going to come out alive at the end of the foster care I’m providing you.”

“Like I said, I be fine once I hook up with some Bloods or Crips. They take care of me.”

“Troy we’ve talked about this until I’m blue in the face. Those guys are most likely to slit your throat and leave you bleeding in the street as to let you become a member of their gangs.”

“There’s MS-13, too.”

“I don’t know whether to let you walk out of my home some night and find out for yourself or to call your psychiatrist and have you locked up in that psychiatric hospital in Queens.”

“I be okay, you see.”

“Okay, let’s go in and you can meet whoever’s at home.”

After retrieving his backpack from the backseat, Troy followed Ernie up to the front door. Unexpectedly, the door opened and there stood an older woman who was slightly shorter than him, but had a welcoming smile, bright eyes, and a wiry body that demanded respect.

“So, this is our black Scandinavian,” the woman said. “Hello, Troy, I’m Agnes, Ernie’s mother. You’ll be living with me in the adjoining townhouse.”

“Ernie, why I have to live with this white woman?” Troy asked.

“Because that’s how the arrangements have been made,” Ernie said.

“Yeah, right, stick me with a white woman ’cuz everyone thinks Troy is white. Well, I ain’ white an’ you can’ make me b’lieve it.”

“Mam, I told you he was a tiger to be tamed,” Ernie said. “Hope you have some idea of what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Don’t worry about me, Ern, Troy’s just going to have to get along with me, or else,” Agnes said.

“Or, else, what?” Troy asked.

“Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah, you’re off to the fruit basket,” Agnes said. “I don’t allow no bullshit from kids like you. You think you’re street smart? Well, kiddo, you don’t know nothing about this city and if you keep up your stupid act, likely as not you’re going to find your so-called black ass bleeding to death down some side street. Now, pick up your bag and come with me.”

Troy looked at Ernie and he said, “You heard, Mam, go on or it’s back in the car and out to Queens.”

“Okay, okay, you don’ have to say anythin’ more. I’ll go peace’bly.”

“Benny?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, Troy doesn’t know how to act sometimes.”

“Mam, this is Benny, Troy’s alter-personality. You don’t have to yell at him. He’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Does his psychiatrist know?” Mam asked.

“Oh, yes, and that’s why he wanted Troy to go into the hospital, but I promised we’d get Troy or Benny to his psychiatry appointments.”

“Oh, Ern, why didn’t you tell me this kid is really nuts?” Mam asked.

“I guess because I knew you wouldn’t accept him into your home.”

“Can we go now? I want to see my room before Troy comes back,” Benny said.

“Is this boy white?” Mam asked.

“Most definitely,” Ernie said.

“Ernie, what am I going to do?”

“Remember that Troy is the dominant personality, but Benny is likely to come out whenever Troy can’t handle a situation or let’s his guard down, according to the psychiatrist.”

“Benny’s good and Troy’s bad, right?” Mam asked.

“That’s about it,” Ernie said. “What the psychiatrist wants is to have Troy learn he isn’t black, so that, possibly, Benny can take control.”

“Okay, Benny, come on and I’ll show you to your room,” Mam said.

“Okay, Ma’am.”

He followed the woman up a flight of stairs to an archway between the two buildings. They stood there a moment and she said, “To your left is the kitchen and dining room. We all eat together as a family. Did Ernie tell you about his kids?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“He’s got two; Gerald Thomas is seventeen and Doreen Lizabeth is fourteen. They live here with Ernie and his wife, Alisha. Gerald is a senior in high school here in Brooklyn. He’s already been accepted to Julliard; he plays the clarinet. You’ll probably hear him practicing. He also helps out at the restaurant.”

“What restaurant?”

“Mam’s Southern Kitchen down on Seventh Avenue. My Ernie named it after me. Do you like southern cooking?”

“Oh, yes, especially collard greens, chitlins, corn bread, biscuits and pan gravy, and catfish.”

“Anything for dessert?”

“Oh, yes, peach pie with whipped cream on top. Not that artificial stuff in a can or tub, but real cream beaten with sugar.”

“You’re my kind of boy, Benny.”

“Yea, but, you’ll have to watch out for Troy. He only likes to eat Burger King Whoppers and fries.”

“He doesn’t like Southern food?”

“No, Ma’am, he doesn’t.”

“Well, I’ll be. So, that boy isn’t as black as he says.”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Come on, let’s go up to your room.”

Benny followed Mam through the archway between the buildings and up a flight of stairs. They went down a hall and stopped.

“The room on the left is Gerald’s and this one here is yours. The bathroom for this floor is straight ahead.”

“This is nice,” Benny said as he walked into his room. Although the room was long, it was quite narrow. There weren’t any windows, but the ceiling fixture spread a warm glow throughout the room. There was a closet on his right, a small chest of drawers on his left, and a small desk with a chair along the wall opposite the bed. There was a small nightstand with a lamp next to the bed.

“Why don’t you get yourself settled. If you need any new clothes, I’ll take you shopping tomorrow.”

“Thank you, I hope I’m around to be with you.”

“I hope so, too, Benny.”

Benny dumped his backpack onto the bed and began to sort through the clothes all the time wondering what could have been in Troy’s mind when he put these clothes in the bag. There were two pairs of practically shredded jeans, three orange pocket t-shirts, one pair of white athletic socks, but no underwear. He went through the clothes again, but still didn’t find any underwear. He went out of the room and started to look for Mam. When he got to the second floor, he heard something in the other townhouse and walked toward the kitchen where he saw Mam with a wooden spoon stirring something in a red Dutch oven.

“What’re you cooking?” Benny asked.

“Beans.”

“What kind?”

“Oh, some pintos, blacks, and some small reds. I’m about ready to add the bacon. Would you like to help?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, over to the sink and wash your hands in hot water and use soap.”

Benny started the hot water and waited for it to heat up. Then, quite unexpectedly, he went away and Troy came forward.

“What the hell’s this?” Troy asked.

“Troy?”

“Who else I be?”

“Would you like to help me prepare the beans?

“What do nigga work? No way!”

“Then return to your room.”

“I don’ have to obey you, bitch.”

“I will not tolerate that language from you.”

“Like, what you do about it, bitch?”

“Go to your room, now!”

“What room? Where I be?”

Mam sighed, took the spoon from the pot, knocked off the dribbles, and put it on the kitchen towel on the counter. She turned and faced Troy.

“Mam! I’m home,” a voice called out from the front door. There was the sound of feet coming up the stairs and soon a rather tall, but slender black teen walked into the kitchen. “Oh, the new boy has arrived. Hi, my name is Gerry. What’s yours?”

“What it to you, fucker?” Troy said.

“Mam, who is this?”

“I said, what it to you, fuckhead?”

“Mam? Is he living with us?”

“Go get your father,” Mam said. “I think he’s down in his den, probably working on the books.”

“Okay, but will you be okay?” Gerry asked.

“This little boy doesn’t scare me after raising your father and your Uncle Roger,” Mam said. “Now, Troy, are you going to help me fix dinner or are you going to go without?”

“I don’ do nigga work,” Troy said.

“Then you don’t eat dinner.”

“Fuck you, bitch!” Troy said as he turned and walked out of the room. He came to the stairs to the front door and started down. Just as he was about to step down the last step Ernie came up out of the basement and stood in front of Troy.

“What’s going on?” Ernie asked.

“That bitch upstairs think I do nigga work,” Troy said.

Ernie’s response was quick. He slapped Troy’s face hard enough that the boy nearly toppled to the floor.

“You will not use that word in this house,” Ernie said. “That was my mother you were talking to and if she wants you to help with dinner, you will do it.”

“You can’ hit me, nigga!” Troy said as he turned to face Ernie.

Ernie slapped him, again, and Troy stumbled back and fell onto the staircase. He stared at Ernie as a tear dribbled out of his right eye. He looked up at the crystal chandelier hanging over the foyer and began blubbering like a little boy.

“Okay, Troy, get up and go to your room,” Ernie said.

“No, don’t hit me, I’m Benny,” the boy whimpered.

“Oh, crap, I don’t know if we can do this,” Ernie said.

“What’s wrong, Dad?” Gerry asked.

“His psychiatrist used some long words for this, but, basically, we’ve got a boy with a split personality.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Do? I’m calling the psychiatrist and have this boy put where he belongs,” Ernie said. “Gerry, what are you doing home so early?”

“Mr. Scheckler’s wife had an appointment in the City and he had to accompany her,” Gerry said.

“Anything serious?”

“I don’t know, but he seemed troubled by it.”

“How old are they?”

“I think Mr. Scheckler is in his sixties, but I never met his wife, so I don’t know about her.”

“Hmm, well anyway, I’d better go make the call for this boy. Will you watch him for me?”

“Sure, Dad, I’ll take him up to my room.”

Ernie walked into the living room and sat in recliner. He took out his cell and looked up the contact number for Troy/Benny’s psychiatrist. He dialed the number and waited as the ringtones resonated in his ear.

“Memorial St. Timothy Behavioral Health Service, may I help you,” a female voice said.

“Dr. Brickette, please,” Ernie said.

“May I say who is calling?”

“Ernest Wilson, I’m Troy Hensley’s foster father.”

“Oh, yes, one moment please.”

In a few minutes, Dr. Brickette came on the phone and said, “Ernie, how’s our boy doing?”

“Not well Dr. Brickette. I’m afraid I had to punish him because I will not allow boys in my house use the n-word.”

“Did you hit him?”

“I slapped his face twice and then he sat down and started crying; and, then Benny came out.”

“Ah, yes, I was afraid of that and I did say you were getting yourself into a bag of hornets. What do you want?”

“I want them put in a psychiatric hospital where they can get help.”

“Okay, I understand. I want you to take him to Bellevue. They have a psychiatric emergency room. I’ll call them to expect you.”

“Okay, Doctor, thank you. I’m sorry this didn’t work out.”

“Well, we still have a chance, we just have to wait for the boy’s mental state to stabilize.”

* * *

Benny sat quietly in the Camaro as it weaved through traffic across Brooklyn as Ernie tried to decide on the best way to Bellevue. He had the Garmin Alisha had given him last year for Father’s Day, but still didn’t trust it to get him into and around Manhattan. Now, Brooklyn he could handle, but Manhattan was a jumble of streets and avenues that didn’t make much sense at all. Why he was on Flatbush was totally inconceivable, because he always entered Manhattan via the Brooklyn Bridge. Of course, he thought he knew where he was going; he just didn’t want to go this way. After leaving the Manhattan Bridge, Ernie turned right on Canal, which he followed down to Allen Street, which coincidentally became 1^st Avenue at East Houston Street. At East 28^th Street, a sign told him to turn right to the emergency room.

After Ernie parked the car, he asked, “Are you going to come peaceably or do I have to call for help.”

“I won’t give you any trouble,” Benny said.

“Benny?”

“Yes; don’t ask me why, but Troy doesn’t seem to be able to handle this.”

“Well, what do you know, the boy actually has his limits.”

They walked into the emergency room and went up to the counter where a woman in scrubs and a name tag that said “Angie Larsen, RN.” Ernie said, “Hi, I’m Ernest Wilson and this is Troy Benjamin Hensley. Dr. Brickette over at Memorial St. Timothy’s said he was going to call to get this boy seen in the psychiatric emergency room.”

“Oh, yes, the DID patient, one moment, please,” the nurse said. She dialed a number and said, “Katrin, the adolescent DID patient from Brooklyn has arrived. Okay, I’ll check.”

She looked up from the phone and asked, “Is this boy combative?”

“No, this is the peaceable ego,” Ernie said.

“Hi,” Benny said.

“Yeah, Katrin, the good boy is here,” the nurse said in the phone. She hung up, looked up at Ernie and said, “I want you to go over there in the waiting area and sit down, someone will be down to get the boy.”

Ernie led Benny over to the chairs and they sat down. Benny looked over toward the entrance and saw a stretcher wheeled in by two men and a woman who looked like EMTs. The woman was squeezing a bag that was attached to a mask over the patient’s mouth and nose. They hurried through a set of double doors and Benny turned to Ernie.

“What was wrong with that man?” Benny asked.

“Nothing good I’d guess considering they had him bagged,” Ernie said.

“I don’t like hospitals.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“What I don’t understand is why Troy comes out at the oddest times,” Ernie said.

“I don’t know how he does it either. I’d like to find out though because if he ever gets out on the streets here, he’s liable to us get killed.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“Mr. Wilson?” a voice interrupted.

“Yes?”

“Hello, I’m Charles,” a tall black man with curly blond hair and a Commonwealth accent said. “I’m a psychiatric nurse here in the adolescent psychiatric emergency room. Is this Troy Benjamin Hensley?”

“I go by Benny,” he said. “You don’t want to meet Troy. He thinks he’s black.”

“Uh, huh, well, come along.”

“Bye, Mr. Wilson, I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“That’s okay, Benny, you get better and you can come back home when you’re ready.”

Benny stood up, picked up his backpack, and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

They went through a set of double doors and down a hall to a bank of elevators. The car went up an unknow number of floors and when the doors opened, Benny saw a wire screened door across the hall. Charles lead him up to it and used a key to open it. Inside, Benny looked back and saw a key was needed to open the door from the inside, too. He was getting nervous and, strangely, knew Troy was almost ready to come to the fore.

“Sir?”

“Charles.”

“Okay, Charles, I think Troy is coming out.”

“How do you know?”

“I got a strange feeling in my head.”

“Have you ever had this feeling?”

“Not for a long time, but I still think Troy is trying to take over.”

Inside the psychiatric emergency room, they came up to a tall man in a white lab coat and Charles said, “Dr. Franco, this is the DID from Memorial St. Timothy’s.”

“Ah, yes, the black and white boy. And, who do we have here?”

“I’m Benny, I’m not black.”

“And, the other boy?”

“That’s Troy.”

“Charles, 100 milligrams of Quetiapine, now and at bedtime starting tomorrow. If the alter comes out let me know ASAP.”

“Yes, Doctor. Benny, come with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Benny, you can call me Charles; everyone else does.”

“I’m not used to calling people above me by their familiar names.”

“You had good raising, then?”

“Oh, yes, Mommy didn’t hesitate to spank me if I erred in any way.”

“You wait here while I get your medicine.”

Benny stood where he was and watched Charles go through a wire door framed with wood. There was a counter behind a wire screen that went around to another door. Behind it he could see medical people, both women and men, working at computer terminals, talking on telephones, or just sitting as if waiting for something to do. He turned and looked across a broad room where there were recliners with other children in them who were watching a television hanging from the far wall. He didn’t recognize the program that was on.

“Benny?”

“Yes?”

“Here, take this pill and water,” Charles said.

Benny did as instructed and gave back the paper cups. He went over and sat down in the empty recliner on the end. He looked at the boy sitting next to him and said, “Hi, I’m Benny.”

“Abe,” said the other boy.

“What’s on?”

“Don’t know. You an attempted suicide?”

“No, I’m a DID.”

“What’s that?”

“Split personality.”

“Hey, Abe, what’s with the new kid?” a girl at the far end called.

“He said he’s a DID,” Abe said.

“What’s that?”

“He said he has a split personality.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Benny?”

“Yes?”

“Hello, I’m Dr. Goldmeier,” said a short, stocky woman with graying hair that was pulled back in to bun. “Will you please come with me?”

Benny stood up and followed the woman into a room across the hall. Inside, the room was quite small. There was a desk with a computer terminal with a desk chair on one wall, two windows covered with horizontal blinds on the adjacent wall, and a side chair with padded arms next to the desk.

“Have a seat,” Dr. Goldmeier said. “Your name is?”

“Troy Benjamin Hensley, but I go by Benny.”

“Benny, where were you born?”

“Hattiesburg, Mississippi, Ma’am.”

“Doctor.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“How long did you live in Hattiesburg?”

“Mommy left there and moved to Jackson after I was born.”

“Why?”

“That’s where Gram lived before she moved.”

“Her mother?

“Yes, Doctor.

“Who was your father?”

“Mommy said he was the spawn of the Devil who raped her in her dormitory room at college. She also said he was black.”

“Benjamin, you do not look like you have any genetic influences from the Negroid race.”

“I know, but Mommy always said she was raped by a black man.”

“How often did she remind you of that situation?”

“Every time I was naughty she said it was a result of her being raped by the spawn of the Devil who was black and she would spank me until I begged forgiveness for my sin of being the son of the Devil.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting. Do you feel you are the spawn of the Devil?”

“I don’t know, because Mommy always said I was until she went on smack and Daddy went to prison for killing her first dealer.”

“How old were you when your daddy went to prison?”

“Twelve, I think?”

“Where were you living then?”

“In Lyons.”

“Where is that?”

“Wayne County.”

“I see.”

“Where is your daddy now?”

“Attica.”

“And, your mother?”

“She’s dead. She OD’d on smack when I was fifteen.”

“And, you went into foster care.”

“Troy went into foster care.”

“Do you know Troy?”

“He thinks he’s black.”

“Why do you think that he believes that?”

“Because Mommy kept saying she was raped by a black man and he believes he has the features of a black boy.”

“But, you do not have those features.”

“No, and that’s my problem.”

“Earlier, you told Charles that you felt Troy was trying to take control. Do you feel that way now?”

“It’s strange, Doctor, but I don’t. I feel right now that I’m totally in control, but I don’t know what will happen when I go to sleep tonight. I don’t know if I’ll wake up or Troy will.”

“That’s interesting. Do you fear Troy?”

“Oh, yes, Doctor, Troy tries to be black, but obviously he isn’t and people don’t know how to react to him. I’ve heard him saying that he wants to get into the Bloods or Crips, but I know if he does, they’re liable to kill him in some horrible way and I’ll die, too.”

“Well, we certainly don’t want that to happen. Do you think you have any control of when Troy comes?”

“No, but I’d like to learn.”

“When did Troy come into your life?”

“It was after I came back from Uncle Joe Bob’s over in Meridian. I told Mommy that Cousin James Alexander touched me, you know, naughty like and he put his penis in my mouth. It was icky and I didn’t want to do it, but he made me. Mommy spanked me so hard my bottom bled and Daddy had to take me to the hospital. Mommy got in trouble with the welfare people and they threatened to take me away from her. That’s when Mommy and Daddy moved up north to Lyons. When we were in Kentucky, Troy came out and started talking like we were black. Daddy slapped him in the face and he went away. I woke up and started crying because my face hurt. Daddy told me to shut up or he’d hit me again. So, I did.”

“What the fuck is goin’ on here?”

“Troy?”

“Yeah, who you?”

“Dr. Goldmeier, I’m your psychiatrist.”

“Goldmeier, you a Jew?”

“Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Where I be?”

“In the Bellevue Hospital Child Psychiatric Evaluation Unit.”

“That nigga hit me. You need to put him jail.”

“What man was that?”

“That man who think he my foster father.”

“Why did he hit you?”

“He don’ like people callin’ him a nigga.”

“Troy, why do you think you are black?”

“Isn’ it clear to you? Look at me. Ain’ I black?”

“When did you realize you were black?”

Troy sat there and then looked down at his feet. Something was wrong. No one ever asked him that question. When? When?

“Hello, Dr. Goldmeier.”

“And, who are you?”

“I’m Mary.”

“What happened to Troy?”

“He went away.”

“What about Benny?”

“He isn’t strong enough, yet, to resist Troy.”

“And, you are?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know that Troy and Benny are males, yet you are a female in a male’s body?”

“That’s interesting isn’t it, Dr. Goldmeier?”

“Yes, I have to admit it is. I’d like to continue speaking with Benny. Will you let me do that?”

The boy sat there looking at the doctor and then shut his eyes. After a few minutes, the eyes opened and a smile spread across the face.

“Hello, Dr. Goldmeier. Is Troy gone?”

“Benny?”

“Yes, of course; what do you want?”

“I just wanted to know if Mary would let you come forward.”

“Who is Mary?”

“You don’t know?”

“No; is she like Troy?”

“I think she’s white, but the problem is she’s a girl.”

“That’s stupid. How can I be a girl?”

“That’s what we’ll have to work on. Okay, Benny, I think we’ve gone as far as we can go today. We’ll meet tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Whatever you say Doctor.”