When we walked into Jasmine’s house, I was shocked at what I saw. Jasmine tried to explain: “If my mom gets her act together, it could be like on the TV shows—everyone happy and smiling, making jokes, eating dinner together. Things could change. Right?”
We both live on the same block in attached row houses. My house is three doors away from Jasmine’s. Everything is always neat and clean at my house. In spring, there are tulips in the garden—pink, yellow and purple. In summer, red and white impatiens are bordered with blue ground cover to honor the American flag.
In the fall, yellow, orange, and deep red mums rest among the pumpkins. In winter, purple, white and green ornamental cabbages are lined up in neat little rows. There’s even a rocking chair on the front porch with a mat that says “Welcome.” The front door is painted a happy shade of red.
I couldn’t help but compare my own situation with Jasmine’s.
Jasmine’s front yard is overgrown with weeds and strewn with papers that had blown in from the street. No welcome mat here. As we looked around her living room, Jasmine sighed. Piles of dirty laundry were on the floor. Leftover snacks on the coffee table looked as if they were still there from last night. An open bag of corn chips spilled over into a bowl of dried-up salsa. A half-full glass sat on the lamp table next to an empty bottle of scotch liquor. I wrinkled my nose at the smells.
“Now do you understand?” Jasmine looked so worried.
The kitchen was just as bad. Everything was a mess. Dirty dishes were piled up in the sink. Garbage overflowed in the white plastic container streaked with gray.
The stove was caked with greasy red and orange sauces from days before.
“It doesn’t look like my mom thought about dinner.” Jasmine checked the freezer, found some frozen hamburger meat, and set it on the counter to thaw.
I didn’t say a word.
We heard Jasmine’s baby sister crying. I followed her into her sister’s room. Everything had soaked through. After Jasmine comforted her sister and changed her diaper, she put clean sheets on the mattress after disinfecting the crib.
“How do you know how to do all of this?”
“I had to figure it out on my own.”
Jasmine carried the baby into their mother’s room. I followed her.
Her mother was passed out on her bed still wearing her shoes. “Mom, wake up. What time does the baby have to eat?” Jasmine shook her mother and tried to wake her up. But her mother didn’t move a muscle.
When she noticed a bottle of red wine on the nightstand, Jasmine said, “She’ll be sleeping a long time.”
The baby cried for her mother.
“Don’t cry. I’m here, and I’ll take care of you.”
We went downstairs. Jasmine warmed up a bottle of baby formula.
Jasmine rocked the baby in her arms as she drank her bottle.
She put her sister in her high chair while she cleaned up the kitchen.
“I’ll help you,” I said. I turned my attention to what was in the sink. I put on some rubber gloves and started scrubbing. There was no dishwasher, so I used the dish rack to stack the clean things.
“Thank you for helping me.” Jasmine looked so sad. So overwhelmed.
“That’s what friends are for.”
Baby cooed and smiled as Jasmine sang to her. “The itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout…” Jasmine put the hamburger meat into the microwave to defrost it.
We worked for about an hour, but there was still a lot to do.
Jasmine went into the basement to throw the dirty sheets and baby clothes into the washing machine. She brought some dry towels that needed folding up from the laundry room.
“Holly, I think it’s time to call Grandma Rosie. I can’t let this go on anymore. If Grandma comes here, I won’t have to worry about my sister. Maybe she can even get daddy to come back.”
I just listened.
“I’m only eleven. I have to go to school during the day. I’m not old enough to handle this by myself. This can’t wait until Christmas. I need to do something now.”
Jasmine called her grandmother’s number. “Hello, Grandma? I need help” She burst into tears.
I cried, too.