by A. J. Downey
“Seriously? Your long time crush moves in under your roof and you can’t come up with a single bit of happy about that?”
I backed out from under the hood and fixed my younger brother with a hard glare, “I’m supposed to be happy?”
“Well, yeah. A little… aren’t you?” he asked.
“You dumb shit, she was Grind’s woman and shows up here with Grind’s kid on her hip, doesn’t know a fuckin’ thing about the fact our brother’s dead, I break it to her the worst fuckin’ way possible, I’m sleeping on my couch, hemorrhaging cash I can’t afford if I want to get out of that shithole apartment – I’m responsible for two other people who really don’t need to be living in that shithole apartment with me… good Christ.” I put my hands on my hips and let my eyes grab some garage floor so I didn’t have to look at my shithead brother. The urge to punch him was a strong one. “What in the absolute fuck do I have to be happy about with this situation?” I demanded.
“You know, that’s your problem Arch. You aren’t ever happy with anything, Bro. Grind is gone and Mel is here, you should give it a go, man.”
“Man, fuck you! Because you’re sounding an awful lot like I should be grateful Grinder’s gone.”
“I didn’t say that, Asshole. You’re just taking it that way. I’m just saying let’s hear it for second chances. Man, I loved Grinder just as much as you or Nox but he was a fucking asshole sometimes. Just like you are. Except Grinder’s kind of asshole left that woman alone when she needed a man. I’m just sayin’ you have a chance to be that man and it’s good you’re stepping up.”
My brother’s caramel brown eyes blazed at me, and he ran a hand over his short, light, tawny hair; back and forth, like he was trying to dust a bothersome insect off his head. Trouble was, that insect was me right this minute, and I hated that fuckin’ feeling out of the little twerp. Especially when Grind and I had changed his and Nox’s shitty fuckin’ diapers the first couple of years.
“Ain’t no one else, to step up. I been cleaning up after all three of you fuckers a long time, this time is no exception.”
Rush grunted, “Man sometimes you’re a real fuckin’ douche you know that?” he demanded.
“Go back to your fuckin’ bay and quit bothering me,” I demanded right back.
He didn’t talk to me the rest of the day, which suited me just fine. Around noon-thirty, Melody pulled up with Noah in his car seat in the back. I gritted my teeth, and glanced over at Rush who gave me a dirty look. I glared at him and walked out to the car, as she cranked down the window.
“What’re you doing here?” I demanded.
“Fulfilling my end of the bargain,” she said handing me a sack out the window. Noah eyed me from the back seat, and when he caught me lookin’ at him he grinned.
“Unca Atcha!” he said and held out his arms.
“Hey, boy,” I said in return.
Melody gave me a cool look, as I looked in the bag, likely still pissy about this morning and me taking off with the kid squalling like he was. There was a sandwich and a thing of what looked like soup in the bottom of the bag.
“Better eat it while it’s still hot,” she said absently as she returned Rush’s wave.
“Thought I told you not to bother,” I said.
“You also told me it was my job to clean and keep you fed in exchange for staying, so which is it, Archer? Am I supposed to feed you or not bother?” she asked and sighed. I frowned. She looked fuckin’ tired, her blonde hair in a lank ponytail, wisps escaping and hanging in her eyes. Her tee shirt had stains on it and her jeans were wrinkled. She was a far cry from the girl I knew in Arizona. Now she had the etched in marks of a stressed out, frazzled mom.
“What’s for dinner?” I asked her.
“I don’t know yet, I hadn’t gotten that far. Noah’s been a challenge today.”
“What have you done?” I asked and she sighed crossly, but answered the question.
“Managed to get to a second hand store, picked up some cooking utensils and dishes, made you lunch and brought it here. I plan on stopping into a diner or two looking for help, I have waitressing experience. I was going to head back, put Noah down for a nap, fill those applications out, and get dinner started.”
“Busy day,” I said dryly. She didn’t say anything back. “I’ll let you go,” I said finally when the silence stretched too long between us.
She nodded, and said, “Can I impose upon you to watch Noah for a bit tonight so I can get a shower?”
I blinked, she hadn’t showered since she got here? I nodded finally when my brain caught up and got with the program, “Yeah, sure.”
“Thank you, I’d better leave. I’d rather you not get in trouble with your boss,” she uttered.
“Not likely, he’s the club’s V.P.” I said with a shrug.
“Good to know,” she murmured, “See you later.”
“Yeah, later,” I said and knocked on her roof, I called out to Noah while she shifted it into reverse, “See you later, Little Man!”
“Bye!” he called out brightly.
“See, I told you, Noah. Uncle Archer told me to tell you…” I heard Melody say and I yelled, “That’s right, I did!” I heard Noah laugh and they were gone. Mel’s little hatchback buzzing up the road.
I sighed and pulled the sandwich out of the bag. Cold cuts and some hot chicken soup, probably out of a can, but it sure beat nothing, which is what I probably would have had if she hadn’t defied me. I shrugged and let it slide. She made a good sandwich.
Chapter 9
Melody
I managed to get quite a bit at the goodwill, not only cookware, but an almost complete, somewhat fancy set of it for a really reasonable price. I also managed an almost complete set of dishes. I had just enough cash left to get Noah a couple of toys, and that was what he was doing now. Sitting on the living room floor, stacking and destroying blocks, laughing with little toddler maniacal glee at the destruction he wrought on the hapless colored wood. My child, super destructo-monkey.
I slid dinner into the oven and closed it up, blowing some of my bangs out of my eyes. I needed a trim badly, but it would have to wait until after Archer got home and Noah had someone to watch him. This place wasn’t toddler proofed enough, despite my best efforts. I had thick hair ties holding the cupboard under the sink closed. So tightly wrapped around the knobs on the cabinet, Noah’s little fingers wouldn’t have the strength to get them undone, nor would he have enough in him to get the doors open more than a couple of inches. I had all of the cleaning products and laundry soap shoved clear to the back of the cabinet and away from the doors. It was the best I could do. Still, I worried. If he tried, he could smash his fingers, I was exceptionally paranoid about the set up. I needed to get child safety locks for that cabinet, for all the kitchen cabinets.
I was standing there, hands flat on the kitchen counter, watching Noah play, when Archer came through the door. He stopped and looked at Noah, his face unreadable, when he looked up and over at me. I raised an eyebrow with a slight smile over how he looked at my boy and he shut the door behind him, shrugging out of his jacket and cut.
“What smells good?” he asked.
I was secretly pleased by the light praise, and hoped it tasted as good as it smelled when I answered him, “Southwest casserole, it’s got about ten minutes left.”
“Go get your shower then, I can get it out of the oven and watch Little Man here.”
“Thanks,” I murmured and left to Archer getting down on the floor next to Noah and stacking blocks with him. Murmuring to my little boy and clapping with him when he knocked over the blocks in a spectacular display.
I felt a tension I hadn’t realized rode me ease slightly. With a sigh that was a mix between exhaustion and relief I went in to shower, gathering some clean PJ’s and a couple of clean towels out of the bins that sat on the floor between the bed and the wall, opposite the side with the dresser.
I spent a long time under the hot shower spra
y. Longer than ten minutes, for sure. I heard the timer I’d picked up at the goodwill go off and Archer open the oven. I couldn’t even bring myself to care too much that I’d forgotten to set the table, even though I still only had paper plates and plastic cutlery to do it with. I hadn’t gotten around to washing the dishes I’d bought.
I startled when Archer called through the bathroom door a few minutes later “That’s enough, Mel. Food’s on the table.”
“I’ll be right out!” I called and shut off the water.
I dried off and got dressed and took the two or three minutes to trim my bangs in the cracked mirror above the sink.
“Mel!” Archer called from the main room of the apartment.
“I’m coming!” I called back and set my scissors on the edge of the sink, the towel I let ride on my shoulders as I ran it over my hair, squeezing the water into the thick terrycloth.
“Thought you was drowning,” Archer commented dryly and spooned some more food into Noah’s mouth.
“Sorry, I had to trim my bangs and that shower felt really good. It’s been a few days.”
“Should have said something,” he said, disapproval in his tone.
“I didn’t want to be a bother.”
“Too late for that.”
Ouch. Motherfucker, he still has it. I thought. Archer always knew just how to hit below the belt in as few words as possible. I swallowed hard and sank into one of the seats. He had the casserole on a couple of pot holders on the end of the table far from Noah.
“You uh, know he can do that mostly by himself, right?” I asked watching him spoon more food into my child’s mouth.
“Don’t really know the first thing about kids, it’s been a long fuckin’ time since I had to wipe Rush and Nox’s little asses.”
“Language, please?” I said and let the pleading creep into my tone. I didn’t want to get backhanded but this was important to me. Of course, not getting backhanded in front of my son was equally as important… I wanted him to grow up learning what it was to properly treat a woman. Living this life, those lessons were going to likely be pretty tricky, but so far, my treatment in front of him had improved by leaps and bounds over where we’d just come from, so there was that.
Rome wasn’t built in a day, Melody. I thought, but that still didn’t stop my stepfather’s voice from creeping in with some cold reality, asking me; so why are you hanging around a bunch of dirty heathen bikers? I took a deep breath and held it for a moment, answering that accusatory voice in my head; because, at the end of the day, those dirty heathen bikers are still treating me better than either you or ma. Which was equal parts sad and pathetic.
“You should eat,” Archer said eying me and I felt myself blush, I hadn’t thought to grab a robe or anything and I realized that the fitted white wife-beater and blue and white striped boxer shorts I wore rolled up at the top, didn’t exactly do much to hide my figure. Including my still pooched tummy. My hands drifted to it, to hide it and Archer raised a brow.
“You didn’t come here pregnant did you?” he demanded.
“What? No!” I cried.
“Good, I don’t mind takin’ care of Grind’s kid, but I ain’t springin’ for any other man’s child.”
I felt tears begin to mist my eyes and stood, “I’m just self-conscious is all, I’ll be right back; I’m going to grab my robe…”
“Sit down, Mel. Eat something. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about; leastways not from me.”
Perfect, just epically perfect, I thought and felt even worse when a tear snuck free. Noah’s little gaze was on me, his small face solemn.
“Mamma sad,” he said and I wiped at the tear before Archer turned around to look.
“Mamma’s fine, Baby,” I told Noah, “Eat your dinner.”
“Take your own advice, woman,” Archer said.
“Just not very hungry I guess,” I muttered but put some food on my plate anyways. I nibbled at it and spent more time pushing it around than actually eating it.
“That’s too bad, it’s good stuff,” he said chewing a bite of his own. He’d relinquished the spoon to Noah and was watching him eat like a hawk. I realized he was afraid Noah might choke, which was something I feared too, and watched my son with the same careful eye as a result.
“Thanks,” I murmured and that was pretty much it in the way of conversation.
I was clearing the table when Noah called “Momma! I stinky butt.”
Archer heaved himself off the couch and went for Noah at the same time I tried to round the table to go to him.
“Go on, I got it. Changing diapers is a hard one to forget, it’s like riding a bicycle…” he said and I nodded carefully.
“Uncle Archer’s gonna take care of your stinky butt, okay?” I asked Noah.
Noah looked at Archer with trepidation, but he was already laying Noah on the floor, pulling apart the snaps on the legs of his romper. I watched carefully while Noah fussed and cried a little while Archer wiped his bum.
“Does he have a rash again?” I asked.
“Looks like a little bit of one is starting,” he called back over his shoulder.
“The cream for it is in the pocket of the diaper bag there,” I pointed and Archer dug through a pocket. “Next one over,” I directed.
“Prescription shit?” he asked.
“Doctors seem to think he has some kind of allergy to his own poop or pee, he gets it really bad sometimes, so they prescribed that. Am I almost out?”
“Naw, you got a ways to go.”
“Okay,” I closed my eyes and counted backwards from ten until the feeling of anxiety abated. I had no insurance, I had no way to refill the prescription without them finding out where we were… I didn’t want to have to go to a doctor, not yet. Damn it, why hadn’t I thought to grab the extra tubes? Because I’d been in a hurry, that’s why.
“Hey, you okay?”
I opened my eyes to realize Archer was asking me, not Noah.
“I’m fine. Just not sleeping well, new place I think.” I looked at my cheap watch but Archer was already ahead of me.
“Okay, Little Man,” he said, lifting Noah to his little feet, “All done, but if I’m not mistaken, it’s bedtime for you.”
He took Noah over to his crib and my little guy was tired. He went into it with a minimum of fuss and was out inside ten minutes while Archer channel surfed for a few and I finished wiping down the kitchen. After a little while he switched off the TV and stretched.
“I’m going to work, lock up after me and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay, what do you want for breakfast?”
“The kid likes pancakes,” he said and I nodded, “Then pancakes, if you’ve got the stuff for it.”
I hazarded a smile and said, “I bought mix, but forgot the maple syrup, so is butter and jam okay?”
“I’ll get some, we got some twenty-four hour places around here that’ll have it.”
“Far cry from where we come from, where the sidewalks roll up at eight.”
He grunted in agreement, “You ain’t lyin’, now get over here and do as I say, lock the door behind me.”
“Of course,” I said and he went out. I dutifully shot the deadbolt and twisted the little tab in the doorknob, too.
I went in to lay down, listening to the rap music thump and bump up through the floor. A car pulled up outside and was equally as loud. Laughter, shouting, a glass bottle breaking somewhere out in the parking lot… After an hour and a half of trying to sleep, I got up and peeked out the front blinds.
There was a glossy black, fancy new Dodge Charger with ridiculous looking rims on it down there, parked in the middle of the lot behind a bunch of other cars, all four doors open and the system pounding out into the night. I went back into the bedroom and hoped it would end soon, but I think I was just so tired that eventually it didn’t matter. I fell asleep, albeit a fitful one. I must have been woken a half a dozen times during the night. Once by a man shouting down to
the Charger from right outside the living room window – which woke Noah up causing him to fuss.
I got him back down, and tried to go back to sleep, but I heard Archer come home when his second job was through.
“Hey, Little Man, what you doing up, huh?” I heard him say to my son, but I really wanted Noah to go back to sleep, so I stayed put. Maybe it was really because I was upset… I was so tired. I was so tired I couldn’t sleep, so tired my eyes watered, the moisture slicking down my temples as I lay on my back in the dark. It was incredibly frustrating, but what could I do about it?
I think I fell into a light slumber, but it was shattered by my phone going off, the alarm I’d set so I could fix Archer breakfast before work, shattering the exhausted moments of calm I’d found. I got up, slipping into my flowered kimono-type robe, a deep blue with bright bursts of pink peonies on it. It’d been a gift from Grinder once upon a time… I felt a deep stab of loss borne of a longing to see or have something you would never have again but I stuffed it ruthlessly down.
I had a child to take care of. A son who was everything to me, and who I wouldn’t trade for the moon and the stars, let alone the world. I couldn’t dwell on what could and would never be. I just couldn’t.
I stopped in the doorway to the bedroom and let myself fall into the doorjamb, my shoulder propped against the poorly painted wood as my eyes fell on my boy. He was sprawled over Archer’s chest, his little cheek pressed against Archer’s worn, light blue tee, his little thumb in his mouth. Archer’s lashes formed crescents against his much lighter skin, the last year or so out of the Arizona heat greatly diminishing his once golden-bronze tan. He had one hand on Noah’s butt so my child wouldn’t slip but both of them were fast asleep. I couldn’t help but indulge myself in the moment for a little while.
This is what I had wanted, so badly, for my son. For him to have a father, a man to look up to and who would look out for him. I thought that Grinder would have come around. I thought that his father would be that man eventually, but Grinder hadn’t come home and when things got so bad, and I’d gone to find him… I felt my eyes mist, but not from loss this time.
