by J. R. Adler
Nicole refilled both their glasses.
“Jessica is better off without him and so are you. He’s an asshole,” she said with a stern nod.
Kimberley let out a small laugh. She always loved when her mother would get a little tipsy and crass. It was completely out of character for her, but it was refreshing to Kimberley.
“He is.”
“You’ll find a nice man here in Oklahoma, a real southern gentleman,” Nicole said encouragingly.
Dating was the last thing on Kimberley’s mind. Unlike her mother, she was okay with being alone; maybe not for always, but for now, alone was just fine. Kimberley shuddered at the thought of dating a southern gentleman. She could open her own damn doors, pull out her own chair, pay for her own meals, and hold her own umbrella.
“Anything I should know about Dead Woman Crossing?” Kimberley asked, quickly changing the subject before her mother tried setting her up or started detailing all the local bachelors.
“People are nice around here. Striking up conversations with strangers is just what they do in the South. Might seem odd at first, especially coming from the New York. I felt the same way when I moved here from Jersey. But, after a while, you’ll start to embrace and enjoy it.”
“Enjoy? I don’t know about that,” Kimberley teased.
“Oh, just wait and see. You’ll be out and about saying ‘Hey y’all,’ to strangers in no time.” Nicole laughed.
Kimberley took another drink of her wine, finishing it. A yawn forced its way out of her.
“Sweetie, you’re tired. Go on and head to bed.”
“I’ve got a set bedtime again,” Kimberley teased.
“Yes. Now off to bed.” Nicole smiled.
Kimberley rose from her chair and smiled back. “Night, Mom.”
“Good night, Kimberley.”
Kimberley pushed her chair in, trying to leave as little mess as possible. She was about to pick up her empty glass to go clean it, but she knew her mother would tell her to put it down and leave it for her.
“I’m so happy you and Jessica are here,” Nicole added.
She had said that to her already. Her mom had always been that way. When she meant something, she said it more than once.
“Me too, Mom.” Kimberley glanced again at her mother and then left the dining room.
She walked down the dark hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath her with each step, careful not to run her hands along the hazardous walls. Standing in front of her bedroom, she slowly opened the door and, without turning on the light, she entered and closed it gently. She felt her way to the bed, removing the bag from it, pulling up the covers and sliding underneath them. Kimberley had already memorized the layout of most of the house, where every item and piece of furniture was, just by walking through it. She was good at that sort of thing.
3
Kimberley sat up from her bed, still dressed in her travel clothes from the day before. She had been too tired to change, too tired to brush her teeth, too tired to wash her face. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light. She reached for her phone, noting the time, 7 a.m. Kimberley hopped out of bed and walked to the crib, expecting to find Jessica, but the crib was empty. Panicking, she ran out of the room, down the hall, and into the kitchen. Relief hit her just as quickly as the panic did when she spotted Nicole holding Jessica while she poured herself a cup of coffee. Kimberley smiled at the sight of grandmother and granddaughter. Jessica was awake, holding and petting her toy elephant, saying “Ellie,” over and over again. It was as close as she had gotten to saying elephant.
“Good morning,” her mother said as she turned around and spotted a frazzled Kimberley. Her entire appearance was disheveled thanks to a deep, deep sleep—the first in a very, very long time.
She was surprised she hadn’t heard her mother come in and get Jessica. Kimberley was used to waking to any and every sound. She had always been that way. Growing up with a father that was like an atomic bomb, ready to explode at any time, day or night, had heightened her sense of awareness, whether she was asleep or awake. But it had gotten more intense since becoming a mother herself.
Kimberley and Aaron had lived together the first two weeks of Jessica’s life. He had helped out, waking up in the middle of the night to tend to her when she was crying as Kimberley was still healing from giving birth and was dealing with a bout of postpartum blues. She remembered the night that changed her. Jessica had begun to cry sometime in the wee hours of the morning. Kimberley stirred awake almost immediately.
“Go back to sleep. I’ve got her,” Aaron said, rubbing his hand across her swollen belly.
Kimberley smiled, relief rippling through her, grateful Aaron had finally decided to step up as a man and a father. People could change, she remembered thinking.
Aaron slid out of bed and softly padded out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Kimberley rolled over and let her heavy eyelids close, drifting back to sleep.
She stirred awake sometime later from the piercing cries coming from the living room where Jessica’s crib was. She had wanted to put the crib in the bedroom, but there was barely room to walk around the bed, let alone space for a baby. Kimberley wasn’t sure if Jessica was crying again or the crying had never stopped. She glanced over at the clock, 3 a.m. The space beside her was empty, so she assumed Aaron was tending to Jessica and she opted to wait a few minutes. She didn’t want to make him feel as though he couldn’t handle it as Kimberley believed it would push him away. She watched the clock, waiting for the numbers to turn over, while her baby cried and cried on the other side of the door.
3:01 a.m.
She held her breath, trying to hear Aaron’s footsteps or whispers. She listened for running water, the fridge door opening, cabinets closing, any sign that he was prepping a bottle.
3:02 a.m.
Kimberley exhaled. Jessica’s crying hadn’t become any louder, but it felt louder to Kimberley.
3:03 a.m.
She sat up in bed slowly. The metal frame creaked.
3:04 a.m.
Her bare feet touched the worn hardwood floor.
3:05 a.m.
She stood up. Creak. Creak. Creak. As she walked to the door, Kimberley took a deep breath. She still hadn’t heard Aaron, but how could she when the only thing she could hear was her baby crying?
3:06 a.m.
Kimberley threw open the door, running to the crib right outside of it. When she looked inside, she gasped. The world around her went silent. Inside, there was nothing but a small stuffed elephant. Where was her baby? The dark room spun. Was she dreaming? Was this a dream? Would she wake up soon?
A crying scream from the other side of the room brought her world back. She flipped on the light switch beside her, squeezing her eyes closed for a moment. She blinked them open slowly, adjusting to the brightness. The apartment was small, one room contained both the kitchen and the living room and all that fit inside of both of them was a loveseat, a table for two, an end table and a TV stand. The recliner was given away to make room for the crib. She stumbled past the loveseat and there on the other side, lying on the hardwood floor was Jessica wrapped in a blanket, alone. Kimberley’s eyes filled with tears as she scooped her daughter up into her arms, holding her close. She walked to the crib, grabbing the stuffed elephant her mother had given Jessica the week before and tucked it between her and her baby. It seemed to almost immediately comfort her crying child. Kimberley collapsed onto the couch, apologizing profusely to the little girl that would never remember. But Kimberley would. That night had triggered something in Kimberley, and as she rocked her daughter back to sleep, she remembered thinking, people could change.
Kimberley shook her head slightly, brushing the memory away.
“Morning, Mom,” she said.
Kimberley walked over to her mother and Jessica. “Good morning, baby girl.” She pinched at her chubby cheeks. Jessica smiled and laughed. “Mama,” she said, reaching out her arms.
&
nbsp; “Want me to take her?” Kimberley offered. Jessica was around twenty-two pounds, according to her last doctor visit, which was just before leaving the city, but she looked much larger in her mother’s arms.
“Oh no. I’ve got her. Have some coffee. I just brewed a fresh pot and there’s cinnamon rolls on the counter,” Nicole said, bouncing Jessica up and down, while she paced around the kitchen.
The kitchen was small, with a bar top counter and some stools that were never used, based on their accumulation of dust. A tacky rooster backsplash lined the back of the counters jutting up toward white cupboards that mirrored the façade of the rest of the house. The appliances looked old and outdated, as if they had been installed back when the shag carpeting in Kimberley’s bedroom had been in style. From the appearance of the cottage, it really hadn’t been made a home yet as it lacked any sort of personal touch that she knew her mother to have, like florals. Their home growing up had floral drapes, floral pillows, a floral backsplash. If it had petals, her mother would purchase it. Kimberley always believed her choice of décor was her mother’s way of brightening up a dark home with a dark secret.
Kimberley grabbed herself a mug and poured a cup of coffee, which smelled like Folgers, America’s cheapest well-known coffee. Her mom had never been a picky coffee drinker. If it was brown and hot, to her it was coffee and she’d drink it. She walked over to the counter and took a seat at one of the stools, quickly wiping away the dust with her hand while her mother’s back was turned. She grabbed a gooey cinnamon roll, her mother’s specialty once she was rested in place. Kimberley noticed only one other roll was missing from the pan, so she assumed David had eaten it and her mother had only consumed the brown water she called coffee. Taking a bite out of it was like having a vivid flashback of her own childhood. Her mother up at the crack of dawn, while the home was still peaceful. Her dad still sober or at the very least getting there while he was passed out on the couch with his tongue hanging out. As a child, her mother could pretend her marriage was good and she was happy in the mornings, smothering cinnamon rolls with creamy frosting. Making coffee. Cleaning. Tidying up. Doing everything she could to create a façade for her daughter that their life was perfectly normal and that the father that chose his vices over his own family wasn’t a threat, even though Kimberley knew he was, like a sleeping dragon living within their own home.
“How’d you sleep?” Nicole asked, pulling Kimberley from her vivid flashback.
Jessica wiggled and giggled while her grandma bounced her around the kitchen. She reached out her hands when Nicole walked past the pan of cinnamon rolls like she was drawn to them. Her little hands grasping in the air.
“Oh, you want Grandma’s famous cinnamon rolls?” Nicole said cheerily to her granddaughter. She grabbed a chunk and as soon as it was in Jessica’s reach, it was basically already in her mouth. Her eyes lit up as she devoured it.
“A little too well. I didn’t even hear you come into my room this morning. I haven’t slept that well since Jessica was just a couple weeks old.” Kimberley set the half-eaten cinnamon roll down on a napkin her mother had placed in front of her while she was caught up in her own thoughts.
“I was as quiet as a mouse,” Nicole said. “Not like this elephant. Right, Jessica? Can you say ‘elephant’?”
“Ellie,” Jessica said with a giggle.
“That’s close. Can you say ‘Nana’?” Nicole grinned while smothering Jessica with kisses on her cheeks.
“Na… na,” Jessica said, sounding it out.
Nicole nearly leaped up and down. Her smile stretched so far; Kimberley feared her lips would split down the center. “Did you hear that? She said ‘Nana’!”
Kimberley couldn’t help but smile too. “Thanks, Mom, for helping out.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she said, never taking her eyes off Jessica.
Kimberley had never seen her mother happier than she was in that moment. It brought a warmness to her heart, and she knew she had made the right decision to move her and Jessica to Oklahoma. The annoyance toward her ex was still there and the anger about being passed over for a position she had rightfully earned was still present. But those feelings were miniscule compared to what she was feeling right now: contentment.
“She’s going to be stringing together sentences in no time,” Kimberley said.
“Is she behind?” Nicole asked, raising an eyebrow not in a judgmental way, more so curious than anything else.
A wave of guilt hit Kimberley just as she took a sip of the piping hot coffee. The burn on the tongue was well deserved, she thought to herself.
“No, but she’s not ahead either,” Kimberley said.
She knew the long hours, coming home too tired to interact with her baby, and only being able to afford substandard daycare, and by that she meant the old woman that lived in her building, wasn’t giving Jessica the life she deserved. And she had vowed to get her into the best daycare in Oklahoma—whatever that looked like—and spend as much time with her as her job allowed. Plus, having her own mother around would help.
“That’s alright. You were a late talker too,” Nicole said. “And then when you finally started, I couldn’t get you to shut up.” She smirked at Kimberley.
“Ha-ha,” Kimberley mocked while she pulled the cinnamon roll apart and popped another piece in her mouth.
“I’ll get you talking in no time,” Nicole said to Jessica while she nuzzled her neck.
“Where’s David?” Kimberley asked.
“He’s somewhere out on the farm, pitter-pattering with something.”
She placed Jessica in a wooden highchair, strapping her in with two straps she tied into a bow, and locking in a tray. Kimberley hadn’t even noticed it. It was clearly old, like everything else in the house, and definitely wasn’t up to the child safety standards of present day, but it was better than what she had in the city. Living in New York with sky-high rent and raising a daughter on her own, never afforded Kimberley the privilege of saving money. Oklahoma would change that and, with that, she’d provide Jessica with the best.
“I thought he was retired, and Wyatt was running the farm?” Kimberley raised an eyebrow over the top of her coffee mug.
“Ha. David won’t retire until he’s dead. He’s a hardworking man that can’t seem to sit still. If he’s not working on the farm, he’s helping out a neighbor or running errands.”
Nicole opened the fridge, pulling out an apple and a yogurt. On top of the fridge, she grabbed a box of Cheerios and a loaf of bread. “Anything she’s allergic to?” she asked before proceeding.
Kimberley shook her head. “Not that I know of. She’s been good with what I’ve given her, which is everything from takeout Chinese to takeout pizza.”
Nicole slightly frowned, but quickly rotated it into a small smile for her granddaughter.
“Such a good girl,” Nicole said, leaning over Jessica. “You get only the best in this house.” She scooped a handful of Cheerios from the box and set them on the tray table of the highchair. “Yummy, yummy. These were your mom’s favorite snack when she was a kid.”
Jessica immediately smacked her hand against the tray, making all the Cheerios bounce. She giggled uncontrollably until she popped a few in her mouth. “Ummy,” she said with glee.
“That’s right. Y-ummy,” Nicole said over pronouncing the “Y” for Jessica.
Jessica grabbed a few more and splatted them into her mouth. “Yummy,” she said.
“Good girl.” Nicole turned to Kimberley with a smile. “See, talking in no time.” She winked.
Kimberley couldn’t help but smile back. Her mother had come alive overnight. She was still frail, but she had a strength to her. The bags were still under her eyes, but the red veins had faded slightly. And her smile was so infectious that it made Jessica and even herself light up. In this moment, her mother appeared genuinely happy, and she hoped it would continue.
Nicole sliced up the apple into small pieces for her granddaughter and put
them onto a small plate. She scooped a couple of spoonsful of yogurt from the container and put them on the plate too. Jessica had finished clearing the Cheerios from the tray and was now slamming her hands on the tray saying, “More.”
“Just like your mom,” Nicole joked, setting the plate on the tray. “I like to dip the apple in the yogurt,” she said while she picked up a piece, smothered it in yogurt and popped it in her own mouth.
Jessica laughed, picked up a piece of apple, dunked it into the yogurt and put it into her mouth, copying everything her grandma had just done. “Yu… mmy,” she said.
“That’s right. Yummy.” Nicole beamed.
She turned toward Kimberley. “I’ve got everything under control for now. Why don’t you go get ready for the day and pop over to Emily’s? She’s expecting you.”
“She is?”
“Oh yes. She stopped over while you were asleep, and I told her I’d send you over when you woke up.”
Kimberley stood up apprehensively, looking over at Jessica who was devouring everything on her plate and then back at Nicole.
“Don’t worry. I got it,” her mother reaffirmed.
She nodded. “Thanks, Mom.”
Her cautiousness had nothing to do with her mother. It ran deeper than that, threaded through a dysfunctional childhood, ensnared around an alcoholic, abusive father, and tied in a sloppy bow by an ex that abandoned their daughter, leaving her lying on a floor, too inconsiderate to put her back in her crib or wake Kimberley and tell her to her face that he was a fuckwad.
4
Kimberley pushed back the yellow shower curtain, immediately wrapping a towel around her. She carefully stepped out of the puke-green-colored tub onto the peeling linoleum tile. Tousling her hair with her fingers, she walked to the pedestal sink, which matched the puke-green tub and the puke-green toilet. What the hell were people thinking in the 70s? Smearing a section of the steam-fogged mirror with her hand, she revealed her face and studied it for a moment. She didn’t look different, but she felt different. Her wet dark brown hair hung heavily around her heart-shaped face. Tiny droplets of water slid from her long tresses down her bare skin. Her eyes were still as blue as they were back in the city, but outside against the Oklahoma blue skies, they’d probably pale in comparison. Her full lips had started to crack. She’d credit dusty, dry Oklahoma for that. Less than twelve hours in the state, and it had already left its mark on her. Leaning closer to the mirror, she pulled at her porcelain skin that had a pink hue to it thanks to the scalding hot shower. She inspected it closely. It too was dry. Thanks, Oklahoma.
