A trick question but still a serious one, so I took my time with the response. Considered every possible outcome and said, “No.”
“No? You’re not pregnant? Because your teachers say your work has begun to suffer. You are an A student getting C+ grades. You fall asleep during class. And…” Her fingers flicked almost musically in my direction. “You certainly appear pregnant.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“In trouble?”
“Yeah. I break some kinda rule or something?”
“By being pregnant or falling asleep in class?” the principal asked but quickly dismissed the matter altogether. “Well, Mya. By all other accounts, you seem like a good girl, but we can’t ignore this.” Her drawer was open and closed before I even knew what was happening, and the woman handed me a pamphlet. “Girls like you find themselves more comfortable in a different setting.”
Lots of smiling faces and a few cute little babies graced the laminated pages. I took a quick gander at it and handed it back. “No. I’m gonna stay here.”
“I’ve already called your parents. I’m waiting for them to get back to me, but you’re old enough now you can comprehend the value in this. You’ll learn things you need to know. Like how to change a diaper.”
“I know how to change a diaper,” I replied and paused long enough to give her time to come up with something I hadn’t already mastered by the age of ten.
“It’s going to get harder if you stay here. Our sister facility will give you the support you need.”
“I can take care of myself. I don’t need support. I’m fine.”
“Let’s wait and see what your parents think, hmm?”
That’s when it hit me—Mama and Heziah were what was standing between me and things going wrong. Not their physical being, but the idea of them. The idea they were still in my life meant the principal, my teachers, and all the other adults who cared enough to wonder didn’t have to worry. If they knew the truth, that I was only a few irate words from being homeless, then they’d be considerably worried. Worried enough to make important phone calls to people with authority. They’d put me back in foster care and take my baby from me. I couldn’t have that.
“I gotta pee.”
The principal quickly agreed. Pointed to the open door, and I walked out. Out of the office. Hurried down the hall to my locker, slipped on my coat, and headed out of the school never to return.
I had to be careful, not just for me, but for my baby too. I thought about it so much that my nice comfy dreams turned into nightmares of screaming babies and blindness. I’d wake up sweating and completely out of breath. When I tried to explain it to Ramon, he just told me to go back to sleep. He didn’t get it. How could he? He didn’t know what I did, that at any moment somebody could knock on the door and take me away. I lay awake, staring at the pipes running over our heads. We needed a plan. Some place to go where nobody would find us and the baby seemed to agree. I gasped as the little flutter turned into something of a more definitive nature.
“Ramon. Ramon. Wake up.”
“Wh-What?”
I took his hand and placed it flat against the side of my belly. “Feel it? That right there? That’s the baby. She’s kicking.”
“Mmhmm. Can I go back to sleep now?”
I lifted my shirt to get a clearer view. Scrutinized every inch for thirty minutes straight, waiting for the next kick. When my patience finally started to drain, I decided to provoke the little miracle. Figured if I could see the kick, then she could see the opposite motion. So I poked my stomach. Poke. Kick. Poke. Kick. The two of us went back and forth for a few minutes before my grin turned into rolling bouts of laughter. A quick glance at Ramon’s peaceful body, and I thought better of letting him in on the joke. It was ours. Something special between her and me. For some reason, the miracle didn’t belong to Ramon the same way it belonged to me. She was my baby. I found myself wondering if that was how I got my name. Did Mama feel the same way? Did she feel like I belonged mostly to her?
“Mia,” I said it aloud for the first time. “That’s what I’m gonna call you. ‘Cause you’re mine. All mine.”
Saying no was not enough. Ramon was insistent. He stood dutifully by my side as I got familiar with the cold steel. The handgun weighed more than I thought it would, and its weight took up most of my contemplation. Wondering about how many pieces made up the weapon. Somebody had to be awfully meticulous to design a gun. After five minutes, I hadn’t even gotten around to thinking about pulling the trigger.
“Good. Now point it at the pillow.” Ramon was growing impatient. He pointed to the bed, giving me the order for the third time.
“No. I’m done.” I held it out, waited for him to take it and shove it back into the waistband of his jeans, but he didn’t.
“Point it at the pillow. Or-or point it at the wall or the column or the freakin’ pipe, I don’t care. Just point it.”
“But—”
“Ain’t no point in just holding it. Never gonna be a time where you gonna need to just hold it. If you got it, folks gonna expect you to use it. So point it at the freakin’ pillow!”
“Fine.” My arms extended out in front of me, and I pointed the heavy thing at our bed. “Happy?” The nose of the gun wavered from left to right as I spent more energy looking at Ramon than the intended target.
“Don’t be afraid of it. It ain’t gonna bite you.”
“I don’t even want it. What I’m supposed to do with it?”
“It’s only for a lil’ while until I can straighten some stuff out…so take it. Okay?” He didn’t wait for me to agree before taking it out of my hands and dropping it into my book bag. “I loaded it already. You just gotta point and shoot. This weekend I’m gonna take you out to practice. Don’t forget it’s up in here. Okay? Can’t be leaving your bag open for everybody to be all up in it.”
“I know that.”
Couldn’t help being irritated. Was he trying to protect me in his own way? Sure. But all I paid attention to was somebody telling me the obvious. Only stupid people needed to be told the obvious. I made slow circles against my stomach, calming myself and Mia. The cheap mattress moaned and groaned under my weight. It wasn’t made for comfort, and the last few months handed me all the proof I needed of that fact. Stubborn springs found their way into my back regardless of my position, but I wasn’t about to yield to the tired old thing. Eventually, I’d find a groove.
“Where you going today?”
“Library.” It was where I went every day. The public library made me feel like less of a high school dropout. Packed myself a sandwich and read to my heart’s content. Was better than school to tell the truth.
“Good,” he replied.
“So, I got your permission?”
“Don’t be snapping me up. I’m just asking.”
I sighed and arched my back. “Sorry.”
“I’ll come by ‘round four to walk you home.”
Started to say I didn’t need an escort. I’d been walking all over Chicago most of my life. ‘Cause I was a little heavier didn’t make me less capable. He shook the wrinkles from his favorite shirt and sank into the bed beside me, his shoulders slumped forward, his eyes glazed over in contemplation.
“What stuff?” I asked, delayed confusion wrinkling my brow. “You said you had to straighten stuff out. What stuff?”
Ramon shrugged and pulled his tee shirt over his head. “Stuff. Dude over on Dorchester got it up in his head he gonna take my corner. It ain’t gonna happen, but he going around telling folks different.”
“Take your corner?”
“It ain’t gonna happen. He see how we making good money and think he gonna get in on it. So…uhh…you shouldn’t come around for a while.” Guilt kept his gaze planted firmly on the basement floor.
“But I got my trusty gun.” I smiled, my version of a joke. “And I know how to point it and everything.”
“Real funny, Mya.”
But I could tell he was serious. He nev
er brought up the streets to me, so it must’ve been a big deal for him to do so that morning. His was a dangerous business. I’d have to get him away from it if I wanted to keep him safe. Step one would’ve been to break the hold his family had on him. So he’d be free to be who he actually was instead of whom they wanted him to be. We’d have to go somewhere far away from them. Montana crossed my mind. I’d seen it on a map. Traced the state’s borders with my finger and imagined we were there. Lots of open fields meant lots of space to run. I imagined teaching the baby to climb trees and pretending to be a monkey on the way up. Montana. I liked that it started with an M and ended with an a, like my name. Montana, it would be.
The branch librarian had gotten so used to seeing me pop in and out during the day, she glanced up and smiled. She wasn’t like the school librarian. She didn’t blush at all my questions.
“This is our geography section. Anything you want to know about Montana will probably be in here,” she said, gesturing to the row of books at eye level. “I’ll check and see if we have any state history books on it.”
I nodded my thanks and grabbed the first few books. The library was usually empty, so I had my pick of tables, but I always chose the same one—by the window with its very own light hanging overhead. It sat a little ways off from the others. It was perfect.
I decided to start from the beginning, and by the time I’d read up to the twentieth century, my neck was begging for a break, my back ached in all the usual places, and my behind was numb. It was a bright sunny day. The kind of day you didn’t wanna spend cooped up inside. So, I packed up my book bag and let the sunshine spill over my face.
Montana trickled through my thoughts as I walked. School was but a distant memory. I wasn’t going back. There would be no going back, only forward. To Montana. Thoughts came about what I would do once we got there. Where we would live…if Ramon would be happy there. His happiness didn’t outweighed what I knew to be true—Montana equaled freedom. Fresh air and wide open spaces and nobody to worry about us. Nobody would even know I was there.
Before I knew it I was only a few blocks from home. Mama’s home. I stopped at the corner, wondering if I should dare to walk down the street. What if she saw me? What if I saw her? I missed my sisters. Missed watching Jackie and Nikki get on each other’s nerves. Missed Nat’s smile, even missed the twins. I’d miss them even more if I moved to Montana. I turned the corner and walked on. The house was quiet, and for the first time in a long time, I thought what it would be like to sleep in my own bed. Still had my key. Had Mama changed the locks? No. That wasn’t Mama’s style. She wasn’t spiteful or vindictive. I sighed and turned the next corner, headed toward the high school. Maybe I’d catch Jackie when she got out.
Didn’t occur to me I’d have to pass Ramon’s corner before I got to the school. Didn’t think about the danger lurking there. The danger he’d tried to warn me about, protect me from. No, I was too busy thinking about other things. It wasn’t until I approached the block that I heard it. If lightning had sound, this was it. Sounded like a car backfiring. Not once. Not twice. Over and over the sound cracked open the bright shiny day. I was close enough to see the action but too far away to do anything about it. Too far away to stop them. The people-sized blobs ran in all directions. Some of them hiding behind parked cars, others simply running for their lives. Arms locked around me, steady and sure, and pulled me to the ground as the gunshots came closer. We landed hard in the shadow of a two-flat, and a putrid scent invaded my nostrils. The god-awful smell occupied my mind, not the bullets whizzing over our heads, until it was silent again.
“Let me go.” I wrestled free from his grip, crawling to get a better view of the devastation at the corner.
“Nothing you can do, now.”
The arid stench was coming from the homeless man I’d seen lingering around. The one who said I had no business being on that corner. It wasn’t his place to say such things to me. What did he know? Sirens called out in the background. Neighbors finally peeked out their windows, gasping at the bodies that bloodied the sidewalks. A few screams sliced through the eerie silence as I managed to get to my feet, stumbling over one then the other as sirens engulfed the area. They must’ve been coming from all directions, surrounding the massacre. Some of the slain faces I recognized, but they weren’t important enough to garner a pause. I was looking for one face in particular, hoping and praying he wasn’t there. Maybe he’d taken a short walk to the liquor store for snacks…it was possible, I thought. A glimpse of the bold colors up ahead nearly stopped my heart. A red-and-yellow shirt, a shirt I knew. I’d seen him wear it at least once a week since the day I met him. The ground rose up to meet me, and my hands hovered over the bullet holes steeped in blood.
“Ain’t nothing you can do,” the voice said again. “He’s gone.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying…you can’t help him none.”
“Shut up! Shut up! Leave…leave me alone!” I still couldn’t bring myself to actually touch him. My hands shook so badly, I finally gave up and lowered them against my thighs.
“The police coming. You wanna be here when they get here?”
Dazed, I shook my head. Police meant worries. More folks worrying about me, trying to fix me. Send me where I didn’t wanna be. “No.”
“Want me to help you up?” The smelly stranger kept his word. Walking steady and slow, we put much needed distance between ourselves and the blood spilled. “You got somewhere to go?”
For the first time, I got a load of the man who saved my life. A black forest covered his chin and half his face, his dark green coat was dying for a bath. He needed help more than I did.
“He dead?” I heard myself ask.
The man nodded. “Yeah, he dead. Where your people at? Want me to call ‘em or take you there?”
“No. I can…I can…by myself.”
Marriage didn’t seem to endear Mother Nature in my favor. Each month she rained on my parade. My spirit had grown weary from the roller coaster of ups and downs. Jean-Louis’s urologist gave him a clean bill of health. The problem was me. My husband wanted me to have it confirmed officially, but I didn’t need any laboratory or tests to tell me what I knew in my heart. I would never have a family of my own.
“You’re young. Give it time, ” Darlene advised. “The Lord will provide. He always does,” she said.
The two of us were a pair—both infertile. Her butter knife spread the moist cake layers into a thin slice as she put her guilty claim on seconds. Chocolate cake with vanilla frosting was the reverend’s favorite. He would expect to come home to at least three-fourths of his cake still standing.
“Can’t be genetic.”
Darlene forced a smile. She still didn’t like any mention of my other family. “No, probably not,” she added after swallowing a big bite.
Mama had six girls. Mya had one, and Jackie was gonna get knocked up any day now.
“It’s only been two years. Give it time.”
“Four. We’ve been married four years. January made four.” With one whisk of my finger, I claimed a dollop of creamy white frosting and sucked it clean off. My midsection had grown steadily each year of my marriage, swelling with emptiness.
“By then, you could be bouncing around here with your own baby!” Darlene was insistent on pretending to be hopeful.
“It’s not fair.”
“What does Jean say?” Darlene couldn’t bring herself to say his full name, and she pronounced it jean, like the denim. Each time it made me cringe. I’d imagine Jean-Louis sitting across from me, arching one eyebrow in disapproval. He thought it was obvious the correct pronunciation was John. Nobody named their son jean Louis.
“He made me an appointment to see a specialist.”
Actually, he’d made me three appointments. The first two I’d accidentally forgotten about. I was considering forgetting about the third.
“You should go. Have faith.” Her gaze shortened as if she were a litt
le girl about to ask for candy. “You could have your sister go with you. How is Mya?”
“Fine.” It was a lie but a merciful one. Nothing good would come of me telling her the truth.
Darlene rose from her seat at the kitchen table and lumbered over to the pantry, returning with a fully gift wrapped box. “I picked this up from Marshall Field’s. It’s for the baby.” She’d hid it in the pantry, so the reverend wouldn’t find it. “Give it to her for me?”
The reverend never thought much of my sister. He thought she was unruly and ungrateful. She didn’t exactly change his mind by getting pregnant at sixteen.
“Sure.” I accepted the box and mentally probed my schedule for time to donate the gift to someone who would accept it.
A resounding beep filled the tight little kitchen, and my heart skipped a beat as I reached for the phone. Jean-Louis’s code popped up on my beeper. He must’ve been between patients. He hated to be kept waiting.
“Where are you?”
“At the reverend’s.”
Darlene was pretending not to listen, perfecting the curly ribbons of the gift wrapping with her big black scissors. She made a respectable effort to stay out of my marriage.
“Did you want something?”
“I will be home late.”
“Oh, okay. Should I leave your dinner out?”
“No.”
I didn’t know one woman who was as lucky as I was. I had a beautiful house, a husband who gave me money whenever I asked—I had a great life. Better than my mama ever had. Better than anybody I knew. I reminded myself of this as the garage door ticked up.
I pulled my Honda into our vacant three-car garage next to where Jean-Louis’s Ferrari would’ve been. He worked long hours to take care of me, so I tried not to complain. Twice a year he took me on vacation. Last year, we’d spent four days in Hawaii before he got called back to Chicago to see a patient. He was a very dedicated surgeon.
I’d thought seeing my house would’ve made Mama proud. I had only the best finishes: sparkling black granite countertops, mile-high cathedral ceilings, and Italian white marble floors throughout the first floor. It all felt very expensive and clean. At least it did to me. I thought she’d have been impressed. Maybe even admit she’d been wrong about Jean-Louis, but Mama had squinted her eyes and gritted her teeth as she took it all in. She hated it.
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