by Hannah Weyer
She walked into her room, set Star in the crib, came back at him with one of her high heels. She coulda killed him she so angry, tried to gauge his eyes out, draw blood, something. Star was screaming, watching from the crib as they spilled out into the hallway. Her mother yelling from the other room, What is going on, why that baby crying but Darius didn’t care, he got the shoe away and threw her down. She tried to get away, scooting back across the floor, kicking at his arms, thrashing but he got hold of her leg and yanked her forward ’til he’d straddled her, had a fistful of her hair and held her fast. The backhand slap made her eyeballs rattle but it was the punch to the nose that did it. Blood gushing and pain like nothing else, not the birth of Star, not Carlton’s belt, not the beatings from Grandma Mason. Somehow this was worse.
No one called the police. No neighbors banged on the door. Blessed barely made it out her bedroom, leaning on her cane, saying AnnMarie … AnnMarie, what the hell going on … Maybe ’cause it was over before it started. Darius walking out. She couldn’t remember screaming, maybe she had, maybe she hadn’t. All she knew was her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. Didn’t matter her body was battered. That last kick to the kidney, silencing her, leaving her gasping for air, she was used to that.
37
She woke up feeling like she’d been hit by a truck. Bruised and broken, her face swollen, ribs aching—it hurt to breathe. Couldn’t even brush her teeth her mouth hurt so bad. Got back into bed and went to sleep. Blessed stood in the door with Star in her arms. Five days, her mother came to the door, sometimes coming in to set a TV tray on the bed, or to take it out again. Five days a her saying, Why you keep taking him back, he treat you like that. It’s your own fault, AnnMarie. When you take him back.
Shut the fuck up, Ma. Please. Just shut the fuck up.
The address they gave her was 3244 Butler Place, number 34. The caregiver name was Princess Jones. That her real name? AnnMarie had asked. Family Services said, Yeah, that’s what it says.
AnnMarie wound her way through the long corridor, pushing the stroller left then right until she found number 34 at the end of the hall. Her face had shrunk back down to size and she looked herself again, could smile without nothing hurting.
Princess Jones opened the door and let her in. It was a big room with a checkerboard rug and there was bricks made of cardboard for stacking and books in the corner and a plastic kitchenette and three children, maybe two years old, playing with a plastic tea set.
AnnMarie glanced at the woman as she spoke—she was short and squat with hair going white, combed back flat against her head. Little tendrils of gray curling by her ears, black moles scattered across her neck.
Princess Jones was saying, I have a routine I follow. Playtime, snack, outdoor play, lunch, rest, playtime, book. Some mothers need extra hours, the children stay for dinner. I give them a snack at ten o’clock, something healthy like an apple or an orange, and another snack at two. You provide lunch.
AnnMarie was thinking, Star ain’t eating no apple yet, and as if she could read her mind the lady said, You can leave baby food with me and I can feed Star that. Any formula she take, leave that too.
She reached out both hands and said, Let me hold this child. Come, Star, let’s see if we get along.
Star went into her arms easy, held on to the lady’s shirt, legs wrapped around her hip as Princess showed AnnMarie the bathroom, the bedroom where three cribs and a Pack ’n Play stood and the kitchen where a toddler’s table and chairs had been placed under the window. The rooms were bright, the floor clean, ain’t nothing bad here. Little ones playing with the tea set.
As she walked home, she thought about Princess Jones and the playgroup. Maybe she do it. Maybe she would. Time for school, get her GED. Call up Dean, make another movie. Roll sound. Roll camera. The director call Action.
Get the fuck outta Far Rock. Anywhere but here.
When AnnMarie came home, Ondine was on the phone.
Where my mother at?
Shhh, she sleeping.
Did you take her out?
She sleeping. Now hush. I’m on the phone.
She said, Miss Jeffers? Hello Miss Jeffers, this is Ondine Jackson. Your Avon order came in, how you want to pay for that.
AnnMarie went into the bedroom and slammed her door.
That night she dreamed of Princess Jones, woke with a start and reached for Darius. But the bed was empty and she remembered they were done.
She lay awake, staring into the darkness. The apartment quiet except for the raspy in and out of Star breathing. She thought about those car rides with Grandma Mason to the agency for the monthly check-ins. It was the only time she got cheese and crackers, her favorite snack. Flat-footed bitch. Grandma Mason coulda beat her five times the day before, but if it was agency day, AnnMarie got cheese and crackers and she kept quiet.
AnnMarie tried to block out the memory but the shame rose and fell with each breath she took. She got up, went into the living room and turned the TV on. What a fool she was, little girl six, seven years old, didn’t say nothing to her mother. They used to blindfold her, those boys. Grandma Mason’s grandsons. It was Gerome. It was Jay. Tie a do-rag over her eyes. Lift up her dress, pull her panties down. Press up against her crack. Rubbing and cumming. Rubbing and cumming. She tried to hide but they always found her.
She missed Darius all of a sudden, an ache so strong she didn’t know what to do. How could she miss him. She didn’t understand it. Wanting his arms around her right then, like a warm blanket. She wandered in and out of her bedroom, flipped on the kitchen light and stood, staring at the floor. Out the window, she saw the streetlamp flickering on the corner and a figure passing underneath.
She got back in bed, closed her eyes but there it was, the shame like a beast mocking. You nobody. Worth nothing. Piece a dust. Speck a dirt. She sat up, crossed to the crib and scooped Star, still sleeping, into her arms. Brought her into the bed and laid her down close to the wall so she wouldn’t roll off. She put her cheek up to Star’s mouth, felt the warm air moving across her cheek. AnnMarie watched her, chest rising and falling, like waves crashing, like a star blazing across the night sky.
Push back, she thought. Push back.
38
It’d come to her in the night, the only thing she knew for sure—ain’t no way she leaving Star with a stranger in a strange house, no matter how neat and tidy. But when she woke the next morning a feeling of apprehension still hovered, leaving her moody and restless so she packed Star up into the stroller and went by to see Niki.
Niki’s brother Bodie opened the door and let her in. Niki was sitting on the floor, an arm laced over her knee and she didn’t look up.
What you doing, AnnMarie asked.
Shhh, I’m posing.
She glanced at Bodie who had sat back down again, a sketch pad in his lap. AnnMarie shifted Star onto her other hip, then leaned over to look.
Dang Bodie, tha’s good. I didn’t know you could draw, when you start drawing?
Tha’s ’cause he gay.
AnnMarie start to laugh, then realized Niki wasn’t joking.
Cedrick don’t let him draw. Think it make him more gay.
Oh, AnnMarie said.
Cedrick was their foster father. Bodie and Niki weren’t related by blood, just by Cedrick.
You like boys, Bodie?
Duh, Bodie said, his tongue coming out, stabbing at his lip in concentration. His eyes on Niki’s face, hand moving across the page.
You hear, Bodie? Niki said. AnnMarie’s going on a airplane. To a movie festival.
AnnMarie caught the edge in her voice, and for a second she was surprised. When she first told Niki the news, she’d acted happy—they’d spent the day talking about it, AnnMarie on cloud nine, Niki right there with her, dreaming about stardom and the path to get there. She wondered when the hate start brewing.
AnnMarie said, Ain’t no thing. I still gotta get a job. Get my GED.
Niki tsked. Why you nee
d a job. Roll out the red carpet. You a movie star now.
Bodie glanced up from the drawing. Shut up, jealous. You should be glad for AnnMarie.
Niki didn’t say nothing, just sat there, her face empty of expression. Which crushed her, a feeling like loneliness sweeping through the room. A line dividing them. AnnMarie glanced at the drawing. All shade, no lines. It was Niki alright, looking mad beautiful.
Then she heard Niki say, You should draw Star next.
Bodie shrugged. I draw her, but she got to sit still. Can’t be climbing all over the place.
So Niki helped AnnMarie strap Star in the stroller, gave her a bottle to suck on, took her down to the street. AnnMarie singing a little melody soft under her breath as Niki walked along beside her, their shoulders brushing.
Niki said, You know I watch Star for you.
AnnMarie looked at her. What you mean.
When you go to Utah, Niki said. You know I’ma help Blessed out.
AnnMarie smiled. You know I’ma bring you something.
Like what.
A souvenir.
Like what.
How ’bout snow.
Niki bust out laughing. Took four times around the block, but they did it, got Star to fall asleep.
39
Nine in the morning, she finally got past the busy signal and got someone on the phone. The man said, You don’t need an appointment. Welfare open eight a.m. to five p.m., Monday to Friday. You want food stamps you go to Room Number 3. We at 219 Beach 59th Street, first floor.
The night before, Star had woke up crying. AnnMarie dead tired, third night in a row, Star’d been fussy. Doctor had told her, Get her a teething ring. She teething. So AnnMarie’d gone into the Thriftway, walked the aisle, slipped one into her pocket. She’d used it each night, Star sitting up in her lap, drooling as she gummed the soft plastic.
Star finally fell asleep again, but she hadn’t. She made a list. Formula, quarters for laundry, baby detergent, baby food, diapers, wipes. Star need clothes, onesies stretched tight, had to cut the toe part off to give her room. Coat. Pair a boots. Snow boots. Scarf. Gloves.
By nine forty-five, AnnMarie got Star fed and bundled up, ready to go, put the slip of paper with the address in her pocket. Went back for the teething ring, made Star clutch it with her fingers. Down the elevator, out the doors and fuck all if Darius ain’t out front, talking to his homies, pretending he don’t see her but soon as she go past, he followed.
Where you going.
She kept her mouth shut. Fuck that. She kept her eyes forward, hands on the stroller, pushing it along over the uneven sidewalk, then she stopped, stood for a minute, pulling her sweater cuffs down over her hands. Darius kept walking, not even realizing she ain’t there and inside she smiled at that little stupidity until he turned, raising his hands like, Come on now …
He stood there ’til she caught up, then he reached over and put a hand on the stroller.
Hol’ up now. Hold up and let me talk to you.
No, Darius. Let go the stroller.
What you mean let go, this my child. You gonna beef wit’ me on the street, that what you wanna do?
AnnMarie didn’t answer.
But she dropped her hands from the stroller, left Star there for him to push and walked away. She didn’t have to turn around, she could tell he was right behind, the stroller wheels squeaking as they rolled over the frozen sidewalk, all the one-way streets circling, Brookhaven to Grassmere, taking one turn after another until she found herself in front of the kiddie park that’d been closed for construction. Darius came up behind her, tucked the stroller in next to a bench and sat down. Hunched up against the cold, AnnMarie waited.
He blew into his hands, shoved them back into his pockets.
He said, I got paid.
AnnMarie tsked. That all you got to say, you spit in my face, you beat me and that’s it—I got paid.
He shook his head like he embarrassed. Now that right there was stupid and I admit it. I know I did wrong and I’ma apologize to you.
Why you do it, Darius, why you think you can treat me like that. That girl coming around, saying you having a baby with her.
He reached out and played with Star, her fingers batting at his hands, saying da da da da da da and when she kicked off the blanket, he rose, leaned over and tucked her back in.
I mean, what you gonna do?
I ain’t gonna do nothing.
AnnMarie tsked. You a fucking dog, you know that.
He was quiet for a long time. He so quiet AnnMarie wondered if they be able to fix it.
He blew into his hands, his thighs trembling from the cold.
She said, Well, what you gonna do. You gonna be with me or her.
He said, CeeCee gonna have her baby whether you like it or not.
He said, I know I act stupid. I’m a flawed individual, feel me. But we’s a family. You, me and Star. That ain’t never gonna change.
She studied him for a moment. Star got his mouth and chin. She could see it.
She reached up and adjusted her do-rag. She need to get her hair done soon. Festival roll up, she need to be ready.
Darius shoved his hands in his pockets, bracing himself against the wind. Then, he looked at her sideways. You wanna go to Three Kings, get something to eat?
She thought about it. Welfare could wait.
lift off
40
She finally told him. A few days before the flight, she said it flat out. I’m going to Utah, the movie’s playing in a festival there, ain’t it crazy? She didn’t tell him it was a big deal, how Dean was gonna try to sell the film, how there’d be people there wanting to talk to her. Darius glanced up from the TV screen. He said, Utah? Why the fuck you wanna go there. Don’t you know they got white muthafuckers shoot a black man on the street.
AnnMarie looked at him.
Ignoramus. Trying to mess with her head.
Blessed sucked her teeth.
AnnMarie glanced at her. She was staring hard at Darius who didn’t seem to notice but when he walked out a few minutes later, she shook her head. Finally, she said.
AnnMarie had to smile.
Taking her side for once. Thank you very much.
They worked it out that Niki would come over, run errands for her mother, bundle Star up in the stroller, take her out once in a while to get some air.
Day of the flight, Niki hugged her and she held on, listening to Niki’s raspy voice in her ear, saying: Don’t forget my snow.
First time she been on a plane. She thought she gonna be sick, that roller-coaster feeling tying her stomach in knots. She had to pull her eyes away from the window—the wing vibrating like it gonna break off as the plane tilted and made its turn, heading west over the city, the ground below patched and squared, homes and buildings and roadways like paper cutouts.
She reached over and clutched Melody’s hand. Melody laughed, saying, It’s okay, AnnMarie. We won’t fall. But all AnnMarie felt was the bumping, the high-pitched hum in the cabin—any second they going down. She could feel Melody leaning, looking past her out the little window so she cracked her eye and saw that they was cutting through a haze of white, the wing jutting out, flicking the mist in fine swirls, the whole world obscure. She shut her eyes again and kept them closed until the bumpiness went away and she got used to the hum. When she looked up, the plane hostess was moving down the aisle, her blond hair brushed back neat and tidy into a bun, a voice making a announcement that they serving refreshments.
AnnMarie glanced around the plane. Ain’t no black people go to Utah, Darius had said. Besides her and the assistant director, Maya, sitting two rows up with Dean, everyone else was white. No one looked mean or angry though, no one had tried to take her seat when they first got on the plane—she got a assigned seat. 17D, the ticket said, right next to her name. The plane hostess came by pushing a cart filled with juices and sodas and water. She said, What can I get you girls? AnnMarie looked at Melody. That cost money? she asked
quietly.
Melody said, Do it cost something? No, sweetheart, the lady said. Not unless you want a mixed drink but you don’t look old enough for that. What can I get for you?
AnnMarie got a can of Coke and a bag of pretzels, the plane hostess passing her a little napkin. Melody showed her how to unlatch the knob so a tray table fold down over her lap. AnnMarie looked out the window. She couldn’t see nothing now but blue all the way, all the way clear off forever. ’Cept there was one cloud over there off to the side—looked solid like a bed made of cotton. Like it could catch you if you fall. You could just lay down on it, AnnMarie thought, take a nap if you want to.
By the time they found their suitcases at baggage claim, rented a van from Enterprise and drove along the winding roads through the mountains, stars had appeared, stretching out across a vast velvet sky, stars twinkling like she’d never seen before.
The place they staying was called a condo, Dean said. Looked more like a house attached to a bunch of other houses, with angled roofs all covered in snow, icicles hanging from the eaves, mad tall trees spread out wide, so many trees, looked like they in the middle of a forest. They entered through a long hallway and she saw the ceiling way the fuck up there, a antler-type chandelier hanging down. Moose head sticking out the wall, its nostrils flaring. AnnMarie said, Dang. She’d never been in a house this big. It was five bedrooms and three bathrooms, a full kitchen with a stove and fridge and counter looking right onto the living room with a fireplace and a ledge to sit on and real logs in a pile. Melody leaned over the railing on the second floor and looked down to where AnnMarie stood. She said, What bedroom do you want? I don’t care, AnnMarie said, smiling. I do not care.
She asked to borrow Dean’s phone and called home, excitement pouring outta her mouth. She said, What up y’all. We made it. How everybody doing? What’s going on? How you feel?
