Money Hungry

by Sharon Flake

  Momma reaches her hand out for a stick of gum. She’s quiet, like she’s thinking.

  I’m back to crying again. Momma starts looking around the car for tissues. I dig in my pockets and book bag. Pull out some tissues, and a few dollars come flying out, too. I see a five- and a ten-dollar bill. The money I got from Odd Job. Then I remember his offer. “Odd Job’s got a place we can use,” I tell Momma. She sits there a minute.

  “I ain’t getting excited,” she says, starting the engine. “But it’s a place to lay our heads,” she says, pulling off.

  I got my fingers crossed. The way things are going, I ain’t so sure things with Odd Job gonna work out. But I hope they do. I sure hope they do.

  Momma drives to see Odd Job’s place. She says she wants to check it out before she decides if we gonna stay. We ain’t got no place to live and she’s wanting to see if the apartment in the building Odd Job owns is good enough for us. Seems to me, if she thought the streets was good enough once, she can’t complain about a place with a little dog poop in it.

  “It ain’t that the place can’t be fixed up,” Momma says, when we’re finished looking around Odd Job’s spot. “It’s just that it’s gonna take a while.”

  Odd Job owns his house. But it’s rundown and it smells bad.

  I go in the bedroom, open the window up wide, and stick my head out so I can clear the stink out my nose.

  “Maybe we’ll stay here for tonight, then move on,” Momma says.

  “Can’t we stay in a hotel?”

  Momma sits in a chair, and hangs her head down. “We don’t really know what life is gonna throw our way, Raspberry,” she says. “But we shouldn’t be wasting our time or money on no hotel.”

  I look Momma’s way. I think about all that money she threw away. Think about us living in the streets and maybe heading right back there again. I want to tell Momma that I’m tired of living like this. But then I see her pulling at the nasty carpet in the living room. Saying how she thinks the floor underneath might be in good shape. Talking about painting the kitchen, and going to the dollar store to buy some new curtains. I dig in my pocket, and hold tight to the little bit of money I got left. Tears come to my eyes when I think how hard I worked to get my money, and how fast it was gone. “At least I got Momma,” I say, looking out the window. “No matter what, I still got her.”

  Momma and me work our fingers to the bone trying to make that apartment look like something. But it still ain’t ready for us to move into yet. For once though, Momma puts her pride aside and calls Dr. Mitchell. She asks if I can stay the night at his place. She’s gonna stay behind and clean up here some more. Dr. Mitchell knows better than to argue with Momma. So when he comes by he stays a while and helps out too. Even brings us some chicken and fries to snack on.

  On the ride to his place, Dr. Mitchell and me don’t say much. Me, I thinking about Zora and how she treated me after I stayed at their place the last time. I got my fingers crossed, hoping she don’t act like that no more.

  Soon as I see Zora, I know we’re tight again. She hands me a pair of pajamas. Says that we can do each other’s nails after I shower, if I want. She and me stay up late talking about what happened to Ja’nae at school today. Then Zora apologizes for treating me so mean. “We girls,” she says, “we gotta stick together no matter what.”

  I like to sleep in on Saturday mornings.

  Zora does too. But after Dr. Mitchell wakes us up to say that he’s headed out to take care of some business, me and Zora get up and make some breakfast. Then we head for Ja’nae’s place.

  We knock at Ja’nae’s door for a long time. Don’t nobody answer. I know somebody’s home, though. I can hear Ja’nae’s grandfather’s big mouth through the basement window. I sit down on the front steps, thinking on what to do. Then Zora and me go to the side of the house where Ja’nae’s room is and throw some small stones at the window until Ja’nae appears.

  “My momma took off again. She said there’s too much drama here.” When I look closer, I can see that Ja’nae’s been crying. “My granddad is holding me prisoner until he is sure Momma’s out of town for good.”

  Ja’nae is talking low.

  “How’s Ming? Tell him I miss him.”

  “I will,” I say.

  It’s quiet for a minute. Ja’nae throws something out of the window. “Give this to Ming,” she says. It’s a crumpled-up piece of paper with bunches of cotton balls inside. They smell like cherries.

  “Tell Ming to carry one in his pocket every day till he sees me again.”

  Ja’nae’s leaning out the window. “I gotta go,” she says, before her granddad yells her name, pulls her away from the window and slams it shut.

  When we get back to Zora’s house, Momma’s car is out front. So is Dr. Mitchell’s.

  Momma gets out of the car and gives me a hug.

  “You been painting?” I ask, looking at the yellow paint on her shoes.

  “After you all left,” she says, waving bye to Zora when she goes inside the house, “Odd Job came by to check on things. He had a can of paint, and helped me put the first coat on.”

  Momma looks tired. There are circles around her eyes.

  “I been up half the night, worrying. Trying to figure out if I’m doing right by you,” she says, telling me to get in the car. She’s pulling out the parking space before she even says where we’re headed. Next thing I know, she’s pulling up to the place at Pecan Landings.

  She turns and faces me. “We got a good chance of moving in here, you know.”

  I look at her like she’s crazy.

  “This morning Dr. Mitchell took me to see a lawyer friend of his. The lawyer, Mrs. Bloom, says she knows the folks in Pecan Landings want to prevent the city and the landlord from letting us move here since we would be on Section Eight. She says she’ll go to court to fight for us to be able to move in this here house, if that’s what I want.”

  I ask Momma how we can afford to hire a lawyer. She smiles. Then she tells me that since Mrs. Bloom knows we don’t have a lot of money, she will let Momma pay her a little at a time.

  I am so happy, I could just scream. Momma feels the same way, I guess. She’s squeezing me so hard I feel like she’s gonna snap me in two.

  “It won’t happen right away,” she says. “But by summer’s end, I bet we’ll be able to call this place home.”

  We both get out of the car and stand in front of the house. Momma leans her face in her hands and rubs her eyes with her palms. I rub circles on her shoulder bones. I press my thumbs into her tight neck muscles. Listen to her say how good that feels. She closes her eyes for a minute. Then her back arches up and her arms stretch up toward the sky.

  “We’re going to have to paint this here place, too,” she says, walking up the front porch steps. “Dr. Mitchell says he’ll lend a hand.”

  “I bet Ja’nae and ’em will too,” I say, following behind her.

  “I think peach would be a pretty color for the living room and dining room,” Momma says, closing her eyes and taking in the warm afternoon breeze. “What color room do you want?” she asks.

  “Blue,” I tell her. “With stars on the ceiling.”