by Renée Watson
I remember how if my daddy didn’t come home Danny and I would sleep in our parents’ king-size bed and even with the three of us in it, there was room to stretch out my feet and arms and pretend to make snow angels.
I remember going grocery shopping and picking out the ripest fruit, the freshest vegetables, the best cut of meat so Momma could work her magic in the kitchen. I remember helping her chop vegetables, season meat, set the timer, mix the batter, grease the pan.
“My happiest time with my momma was helping her cook,” I say. And even though I am thinking about the happy times, I am crying.
“See, you did have happy times. I bet you had lots more, huh?”
I shake my head. “It’s just that the last day was so bad. So horrible. It erased all the good stuff.”
“Was the whole day bad? Can you tell me what was happening before your parents started arguing?”
I shake my head and start crying real hard. I hate this. I was happy before I came here. I hadn’t cried all week, not even when Maria cried in my arms. I didn’t cry when the excitement of womanhood wore off and my stomach started cramping. And now, here I am, snotty nose, red eyes. I don’t like talking to Ann. Her voice is like sour candy. Her words sting and burn and they make my eyes water.
“It’s okay, Serenity.” Ann looks at the clock. “You know, it’s important to remember the good times too. That day was just one day of your entire life. There were many days before that—some bad, yes, but I’m sure there were good days too. Try to remember those moments this week if you can. Okay?” She looks at the clock again and stands. “I’ll see you next time. Have a great week.”
When I get home I just want to go to my room. I want to turn off the lights and look at the ceiling. But Grandma has other plans for me. “Serenity, after you change out of your school clothes would you like to help me fix dinner?” Grandma is cutting onions and bell peppers for the meatloaf.
“Sorry, Grandma. I have to get started on homework. But I’ll set the table,” I answer.
“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll call you down when it’s ready.”
Grandma is mixing the peppers, onions, and seasonings in the ground beef. Her wedding ring is sitting on the kitchen countertop. She only takes it off when she cooks messy things. Her fingers are knuckle-deep in the meat and she is mixing it and pounding it all together. Her back is to me and I think she knows I’m staring at her, but she doesn’t turn around. I can’t believe she isn’t begging or insisting that I help her. I wait one moment more to make sure I’ve won. She keeps on kneading the meat. I go upstairs.
Danny is sitting in his room with the door wide open. He’s playing video games. I stand in the doorway. “You finished with your homework?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer me.
I notice there are five new games sitting on his bed and he has two boxes of shoes by the closet. “Danny, did you do your homework?”
Danny still doesn’t say anything.
“Danny, you better not start messing up in school. You know you’re not supposed to play games till your homework is done.”
“Why are you trying to be like Momma? Always telling me what to do, always checking on me. You’re not my mother! Momma’s dead, all right!” Danny slams his door.
For a moment I am frozen. I want to be mad at him, but I am mostly sad. I knock on the door. “Danny?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Danny, I’m not trying to be like Momma. I just—”
“Leave me alone, Serenity,” he yells through the door.
I go into my room. I lie on my bed, looking at the ceiling, and try to remember the things I’ve forgotten. I think about how when we were younger, Danny and I didn’t argue as much as we do now. We would play all day in the summertime, riding our bikes and racing each other to the corner. We’d put on concerts for our momma, lip-synching to her old records.
We always shared a room, so at night we talked about everything. I remember one night we went to our room hungry because Momma couldn’t afford real groceries that time, just packaged noodles and Kool-Aid mix. Danny told me that when he grew up and got a job he was going to make sure Momma always had enough money to do whatever she wanted. We promised we’d split the cost of a house so that Momma could live in a nice place and have a real big kitchen. For some reason, we just assumed Daddy wouldn’t be there. Never thought about Momma not being there when we got grown.
• • • • • • •
Maria and I have been counting down the days till her slumber party, and it’s finally here. I go to her house right after school to help her set up. Isabel has cooked a feast. I wasn’t hungry until I smelled the food. Now I want everything. Downstairs there’s a piñata hanging in the basement. It’s a cold, rainy November day so we can’t break it outside. Isabel’s boyfriend, Miguel, has the DVD player set up. He doesn’t look too thrilled to have all these girls coming over. He fixes himself a plate of food and disappears into their bedroom. I barely get a glimpse of him. He’s like a ghost. Making appearances and vanishing in the blink of an eye.
Karen and Sabrina are the first to arrive. “Come in. Maria’s downstairs,” I say. I feel important, like this is kind of my party too since I’ve helped plan everything.
“Be up in a sec!” Maria yells. Karen and Sabrina sit down on the sofa.
When Maria comes up the stairs she turns on music. It’s a CD with a bunch of different types of music—merengue, reggaeton, bachata, salsa, and hip-hop. We all start dancing and Isabel takes pictures and laughs at us, saying she can’t believe how us young people dance these days. We barely hear Lisa, Denise, and Sommer knocking on the door, the music is so loud. They come in looking like triplets with their matching hairstyles. Ponytails. Lisa’s to the side, Denise’s on top of her head, and Sommer’s pulled back.
Maria rolls her eyes toward me and flashes a fake smile at them. “Hi, guys, I’m so glad you could make it.” I can’t believe how good of an actress Maria is. She should audition for our school play.
“Is anyone else coming?” Lisa asks. She surveys the room and doesn’t sit down just yet, like she is deciding if she is going to stay or not.
“This is everyone, now that you’re here.” Maria is too joyful. It makes me laugh to watch Karen and Sabrina react to her. They’ve never seen her so nice, not even at church.
Lisa decides to stay, as if she’s doing us a favor. By the time she finishes eating Isabel’s cooking, she seems like she’s having a good enough time. After we eat, we go to the basement and get to talking about boys.
“You know who I think is real cute?” Karen says.
We all say “Who?” in unison.
“Jay! He is the finest boy in the school.”
“In the world,” I blurt out. I hope I didn’t just make it obvious that I like him. I don’t think anyone notices because they just keep talking, but Maria looks at me and smiles.
“But you know who I think is even finer than Jay?” Lisa asks.
“Who?” we all ask again.
“Okay, don’t laugh. I mean, I know he’s younger but only by one grade.” Lisa keeps making excuses. We beg her to tell us. “Well,” she says. “Serenity, your brother, Danny, is sooo cute!” All the girls agree and then they start talking about Danny in ways I’ve never heard anyone talk about him before.
“Okay, okay, we’re talking about my brother here. Please,” I say.
Maria understands. She says, “If I had a brother, I’d make it a rule that none of my close friends could like him.”
Lisa says, “Serenity doesn’t need that rule for me. We’re not close friends.”
The room gets quiet and I feel embarrassed and angry and I look at Maria, who is now standing with her hand on her hip and yelling. “Why you gotta be so rude?”
Lisa says, “Well, you said the rule would be for close friends and me and Serenity aren’t close, so I can date Danny if I want. That’s all I meant.” Lisa looks at me. “Really, that’s how I meant it. I like you
, I do. I was just telling Denise and Sommer that I think I’ll invite you to my birthday party.”
What makes her think I’d even want to go? I can’t wait to put itching powder in her sleeping bag tonight.
Isabel comes into the basement just at the right time and says, “Maria, let’s open your gifts and break the piñata.”
Maria rolls her eyes at Lisa and changes her voice to the sweet, innocent one. “Okay.” She walks over to the table where her gifts are stacked and opens Sommer’s first. Sommer gets her a beauty kit: two kinds of lip gloss, two bottles of nail polish, and shimmer lotion that has glitter in it so it shines on your skin. Denise gets her an outfit: a pair of jeans and a cute light blue sweater. Karen and Sabrina went in together for their gift: a box of stationery that has Maria’s name on it.
Maria opens Lisa’s next. I think she is saving mine for last because she knows mine is going to be the best. Lisa’s gift is big. It can’t even fit on the table. It’s on the floor beside the table, wrapped perfectly in pink and white paper with a fancy silver bow on top. Maria is careful as she opens it. “This paper is so pretty, I’m going to save it.” I can’t tell if Maria is being her sweet, fake self or if she really likes it. When she gets the paper off, we all see what the gift is. A karaoke set. “Oh my goodness! Mom, do you see this?” She opens the box, not neat this time, and starts taking everything out. “There’s a song list with a CD too, and look, Mom, a mike!” Maria is grinning wide. Her mother too.
Lisa smiles. “I know how you like to sing,” she says.
“Thank you so much!” Maria gets up and hugs Lisa. Long. Tight. Like it means something real. Maria starts hooking up the karaoke machine. She forgets all about my gift. It’s buried under that pretty pink and white wrapping paper she tossed all over the place.
I pull it from under the pile of paper while everyone is helping her figure out how to work her new gift. I slide the gift in my pocket and realize that gifts that can fit in your pocket aren’t that good of a gift in the first place. But I thought she’d like it. It’s a silver locket, the shape of a heart, with a picture we took at the mall in a booth. Grandpa helped me scan the picture and cut it down to fit perfectly in the locket I bought with the money I earned doing extra chores.
“Serenity, what song should I sing first?” Maria shouts out. She is looking through the song list and the girls are sitting on the floor, like an audience. “Something fast,” I say. A slow song would make me more sad right now.
And just like that, Maria is singing and the girls are clapping and she doesn’t even remember any of the pranks we were going to play on Lisa and her shadows. She also forgets that she told me I didn’t have to bring a sleeping bag because I’d get to sleep with her in her bed. Instead, Lisa is in her bed and I’m on the floor.
The next morning, I wake up before the others. I hear Isabel in the kitchen fixing breakfast. She promised Maria pancakes. “Good morning, Isabel.”
“ ’Morning, Serenity.” Isabel pours the batter into the frying pan. The phone rings. “Hello?” Isabel holds the phone between her neck and chin, pushing her shoulder up to keep it in place. “She’s right here. The first one to wake up,” Isabel says. She smiles at me. Her face morphs and becomes serious. “I see, I see. Okay, I’ll tell her. Yes, I’ll make sure.” She hangs up the phone. “Your grandmother has to come pick you up early, okay?” She’s put on that voice adults use when they talk to small children.
“Did she say why?”
“Ah, no. I—I don’t know.” She is not good at lying. “She’ll be here in about twenty minutes,” Isabel says.
I get dressed and get my bag. I wait by the door till Grandma comes to get me. Isabel fixes me a plate of food and tells me she’ll tell Maria why I left. “Okay,” I say. In a way, I’m glad I’m leaving early. The way Maria was acting last night, I don’t even think she’ll care that I’m gone.
I know what Grandma has to tell me is serious because she makes small talk the whole way home. Grandma doesn’t waste words. She never talks about the weather or random things that people talk about when they are uncomfortable with silence.
I get nervous. What if Grandpa has had another heart attack? I look at Grandma. It can’t be that. She’s too calm.
When Grandma pulls up to the house, the first thing I notice is that Erica’s car is parked in the driveway. When we step inside the house, I see that the TV screen is cracked and the living room is in a mess. Erica is cleaning it up. Putting the pillows back on the sofa and setting the family pictures back up on the fireplace mantel.
I can hear Ivan’s voice coming from my grandparents’ room saying, “Danny, we know you’re upset. You’re hurt. And you have every right to be, but you can’t destroy things. You can’t throw fits like this.”
I sit down. Grandma sits next to me and says, “Serenity, the police found your father this morning.”
“Where?”
“In California,” she tells me. “In his car, dead.” She talks slow, real slow and gentle. “He killed himself, Serenity. Shot himself.”
I look at the broken TV. Erica adds, “It’s all over the news. We didn’t want you to find out the way Danny did.”
I think maybe I really have cried all the tears given to a person, because nothing comes out. I just sit there. I can’t move, or talk. Just sit. There’s a knock at the front door. I look out the bay window and see vans from news stations pulling up to our house. Grandma closes the blinds and doesn’t answer the door.
“You want to talk about it?” Erica asks.
I just sit.
She rubs my back and then gets up. “Let me know if you do,” she says. Then she sweeps the glass from Grandma’s broken vase off the hardwood floor. She goes into the kitchen, where Grandma is and whispers, “I can’t imagine what she’s thinking.”
I lean back against the sofa. What I’m thinking is, did my father kill himself because he was so guilty and ashamed of what he did that he just couldn’t take it anymore, or did he do it because he was afraid of going to jail?
After Erica and Ivan leave, Grandma tries to get us to eat, but no one is hungry, including Grandma. She splits the homemade soup she made into two Tupperware bowls and freezes them.
Danny and I mostly stay in our rooms. I try reading, then writing, then drawing, but nothing can take my mind off my daddy. Our phone has been ringing all day. And reporters are standing outside with their cameras and microphones. I hear one of them say, “The tragic saga ended today … ,” and I think, nothing has ended. Not the sadness, anyway.
I overhear Grandpa on the phone yelling and screaming, demanding an apology from the detectives because our family wasn’t notified before it was on the news. His voice moves through the house like a furious tornado. On the next phone call, I hear him say, “No, our family has no statement at this time.”
I get in bed and slide under the cover. I sleep through the night, but then I wake up from a nightmare at six o’clock in the morning. Even though I wasn’t there to hear the gunshot, I hear it in my dreams.
I don’t bother going back to bed. Everyone will be awake soon anyway. I go into the bathroom. Danny must’ve been in here. The toilet seat is up. I use the bathroom and wash my hands. I throw the paper towel in the garbage and see that the calendar Danny and I had on the wall is on the top of the trash. I pull it out. Danny’s still been marking off the days. There are red X’s up until today’s date. The tears I thought I didn’t have wash over me.
Daddy didn’t come back for us. Didn’t even say sorry.
I take the calendar downstairs and toss it in the fireplace on top of the wood and paper Grandpa has prepared to burn. I sit on the sofa, crossed-legged, and lean back on the soft pillows.
An hour passes and Danny comes down to the living room. He sits next me. I lean my head on his shoulder. We don’t say anything. We just sit and stare at our reflection in the glass door of the fireplace.
“I knew he wasn’t coming back,” Danny mumbles.
> “Me too,” I say.
Is this how my momma felt all those times when she made herself believe my daddy would change, even though she knew he wouldn’t? Sometimes you want something to be something else so bad that you just won’t accept things the way they are.
“You two up already?” Grandpa says. Grandma comes out after him. She says “Good morning,” and goes into the kitchen. “Honey, turn the heat on. The house is cold,” Grandma calls from the kitchen.
Grandpa opens the door to the fireplace. Our reflections disappear. He starts a fire. The red and yellow flames rise high. Grandma brings me and Danny hot chocolate with marshmallows on top. She sets the mugs on the glass coasters on the coffee table. She and Grandpa sit in their armchairs, swapping pages of the morning paper and drinking coffee.
The four of us sit together watching the flames devour the paper and wood.
Danny drinks a little sip from his mug and asks real low, “Do you think Grandma Mattie will have a funeral for Daddy?”
“I don’t know,” Grandma says.
“If she does, I’m not going,” I tell them.
“Me neither,” Danny says.
Grandpa says, “You won’t have to.”
I think to myself, I hope she doesn’t have a funeral. Then he’ll be in a casket, all dressed up, looking nice. I hope he’s cremated. If he’s cremated, there will be no peaceful smile on his face like he’s glad about everything that’s happened.
• • • • • • •
The rest of the weekend is a blur. We don’t go to church and Grandma says we can stay home from school if we want to, but both Danny and I decide to go. Mrs. Ross knows about everything so she is extra nice to me today, and when I tell her I don’t have my assignment finished, she says I can turn it in tomorrow. Mrs. Wilson keeps looking at me with eyes of pity. She smiles at me when I pass her class and tells me if I ever need to talk to her, she’s here for me. Like I would ever, ever talk to her.
I don’t know if Mr. Harvey knows. I get to class just as the tardy bell rings and he gets started right away. Maria sits next to me. We haven’t spoken since her party. I want so badly to talk to her about my father. I need to. But my feelings about our friendship are all jumbled and messed up.
