All of Us with Wings

by Michelle Ruiz Keil

  “Don’t be like that. You can’t take this on alone. It affects all of us.”

  “I don’t see how.” Xochi imagined a small blue box, the kind for a wedding ring. She put the locket inside and closed the lid. “It sounds like these Waterbaby things are connected to me. If I’m someplace else, so are they.” There was the dry well with Evan’s bones at the bottom. She dropped the box and listened for the thud. There, she thought. They can keep each other company. “So,” she said in an underwater voice, “you should be happy. You never liked me much anyway, right?”

  Outside, the morning was glaring and cold. Xochi searched her pockets for bus fare, for cigarettes, anything that might sustain her, but there was only Loretta’s hummingbird necklace. Necklaces, lockets, wells full of bones. It was like a creepy nursery rhyme. Was this her life now? She fastened the twin hummingbirds around her neck. She needed all the luck she could get.

  48

  Roller Girl

  The morning was frigid and clear, with a lavender sky and sliver of moon. Synthetic fluff filled the empty bag of Pallas’s body as she walked on boneless legs down the hill toward Haight Street.

  The neighborhood was peaceful. No buses, only birds. The wind carried a delicious bakery smell—a warm, sugary respite, a siren donut song. She searched her dad’s jacket for change. The hand-warmer pockets had a quarter and a penny. The left inside pocket was empty. The right had nothing but a piece of folded paper.

  On Haight and Masonic, a girl on roller skates barreled toward her. It was Peasblossom’s girl, Anna. Pallas had seen her zooming around the neighborhood for years, but they’d rarely spoken. Anna spun in a circle and stopped cold, balanced on the tips of her rubber stoppers.

  “Hi!” she said.

  “Hello.”

  “What are you doing?” Anna’s eyes were big and dark, with long lashes like her mother’s.

  “I couldn’t sleep, so I’m taking a walk.”

  “My mom lets me get donuts for breakfast on Saturdays. The bookstore opens late, so I have to let her sleep. She’s like a scary hibernating bear.”

  Pallas flashed to her own bear-like parent, forgetting for a split second what she had seen in his bedroom. She blinked it away. The farther she got from Eris Gardens, the less real it felt.

  “My mom is a morning person,” she said.

  “Wanna get some donuts with me?” Anna said.

  “I forgot to bring money.”

  “No worries!” Anna pulled a ten-dollar bill from the cuff of her striped sock. “I’m loaded.”

  The bakery was unfancy and old school with a few tables by the window in front. Pallas took off her dad’s leather jacket. His scent brought her insides back, brittle and aching. Anna set a big pink bakery box on the table.

  “I got a dozen, but they give you thirteen. One extra for good luck.”

  Pallas bit into a cream-filled maple bar. It totally helped. Whenever an image of Xochi and her dad nosed its way into her brain, she took another bite. “Ecstasy,” she said to Anna as she bit into the still-warm dough. “Perfection.”

  “Here.” Anna passed her a small carton of chocolate milk. “It’s even better with this.” Pallas wasn’t usually fond of milk without coffee, but she opened the carton and gulped.

  “So good.” Pallas nodded, reaching for a cake donut covered in powdered sugar. Anna’s eyes sparkled under her purple-and-pink calico bangs. “You’re like a Japanese anime girl with that hair,” Pallas said.

  “So are you, with your cat hat,” Anna said. “I love that thing. I’ve always been jealous of it.”

  “Always when?” Pallas tried to remember the last time she’d seen Anna. At the bookstore? Sometimes, she saw her on the street, roller-skating by with her headphones and yellow Walkman.

  “Like, always forever. I don’t want to be creepy or anything, but I kind of sort of spy on your family. Ever since I was little. You’re very interesting.”

  Pallas pulled back. She wanted to trust Anna, but what if she was just like everyone else? “Interesting how?”

  “Well, you’re all so pretty. And there’s so many of you!” Anna laughed. “Even before my dad died, it was just the four of us, counting Peas. Now we’re only three. There’s, like, a gazillion of you guys!”

  “He was your dad?” Pallas knew about Ron, the man who’d died—that he was Nora’s best friend and Peasblossom’s person. She’d never given a thought to Anna.

  “Not my bio dad,” Anna said. “But like—my father, you know? He and his boyfriend were there when I was born. He cut my umbilical cord. They were both supposed to be my dads, but the other one died when I was a baby. I only remember Ron.”

  Pallas nodded. “We’re not all related, either. I mean, my mom and dad are. Related to me. But they aren’t together like a couple. They used to be, but not now.” A couple. That’s what Xochi and her dad looked like. A couple. Lovers. A pair.

  “That’s the other reason,” Anna said. “Why I watched you guys. My mom used to point out unusual families to make me feel better.”

  “Why did you feel bad?” Pallas asked. She almost wished she hadn’t. Anna’s pretty eyes filled.

  “People are stupid,” Anna said.

  “What people?” Pallas was surprised at how angry she felt.

  “Oh. My cousins.” Anna looked down. “They used to be like, ‘Eww, gross, your dad is gay,’ and ‘He’s going to give you AIDS in your Cheerios.’”

  Pallas nearly choked on her chocolate milk. “That’s horrible! And not true! It doesn’t even work like that.”

  “Right?” Anna nodded. “We don’t even see them at Christmas anymore. After my dad died, my mean aunt showed up at our house, and my mom went, ‘Get. Off. My. Porch.’ I couldn’t believe it. I made her a medal. Like, a heroism award. Sometimes she’s way too nice. But not that day. That day, she was perfect.”

  Pallas grinned. “I love that you made her a medal.”

  Anna shrugged. “She gets one if she’s good. If she’s bad, I write up a formal complaint. It goes both ways.”

  Now they both were laughing. “I have to pee,” Pallas said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Alone in the greasy, bleach-smelling bathroom, Pallas realized she’d forgotten to wear a pad last night, but there was no blood on her underwear. Her period was over, but it would be back. She thought of Xochi and manta rays, black licorice, bloody underwear. Had Xochi been lying to Pallas the entire time? There was something Kiki had said when they were driving to LA. “What if the maiden is exceptionally fair?” Suddenly, Pallas knew: Kiki and her dad had been talking about Xochi.

  Pallas washed her hands. The mirror showed a cold, hard, sad face she barely recognized. Fuck it, she thought, surprised at how easily the profanity came. “Fuck it,” she said out loud.

  When Pallas came out of the bathroom, Anna was gone and two old ladies were sitting at their table. “She’s outside,” the guy behind the counter said. “She took your jacket with her.”

  Pallas smiled at her own relief. Of course Anna wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. She yawned, finally starting to feel sleepy.

  Xochi and Leviticus. Leviticus and Xochi. She shook her head. She wouldn’t think about it. She refused to care.

  Outside, Anna sat on the curb in the sun, the pink box beside her. Leviticus’s jacket was in her lap. Her head was down on her knees, and there was a piece of paper in her hand.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have read it.”

  “Shouldn’t have read what?” Pallas touched Anna’s shoulder.

  “This.” She waved the paper, head still down. “I wanted to give those ladies our table. So I grabbed your jacket and this fell out. I don’t know why I unfolded it. It’s the same with presents. I have to look. My mom says I’m a chronic snoop.”

  “It’s okay,” Pallas said. “This isn’t m
y jacket. It’s—” She stopped. “Anna, what does it say?”

  “You haven’t already read it?” Anna sat up, eyes wide. “Uh-oh. Pallas, maybe you shouldn’t. It seems . . . private. It’s about your nanny.”

  “She’s my governess.” Pallas pictured the green girl in the window. Friend, she’d said. It was a real memory, Pallas knew, but it had the feeling of a dream. “She . . . she’s my best friend.”

  A sudden blast of wind tugged at the letter in Anna’s hand. It pulled at Pallas’s cat hat and lifted her hair. She sat next to Anna and took the paper—familiar stationery marked with a familiar pen.

  Dear Xochi, Pallas read. The next line was crossed out. Pallas could make out sorry and care. The letter started again.

  Dear Xochi,

  I’m so sorry if I’ve confused or hurt you. This is a letter I don’t know how to write. I hope you know how beautiful you are and how much I value your friendship.

  This was also crossed out.

  The letter began again and stopped.

  Pallas didn’t need to see the final draft. Even a dumb kid could see—it was a love letter.

  “Pallas?” Anna sounded worried.

  Pallas opened her mouth to speak as the wind ripped the letter from her hand and dragged it into the street. It careened along and disappeared under a passing bus.

  Anna passed Pallas a napkin. Pallas hated to cry in front of anyone, but Anna made it easier with her simple friendliness.

  “So I guess the whole thing was supposed to be secret?”

  “I guess so.” Pallas sniffed. Was it a secret from everyone, or just from her? She crumpled the napkin tight in her palm.

  “I mean, the letter kind of made it sound like they were breaking up,” Anna said.

  “Breaking up?” Pallas shook her head. “I never knew they were together. Till today.” She started crying again. “I saw them,” she said to the trash in the gutter, so quietly she hoped Anna didn’t hear.

  “Where?” Anna whispered.

  Pallas took a shaking breath. “In bed,” she said. “They were asleep in my dad’s bed.” The tears came faster, angry little race cars zooming down her face and over the cliff of her chin. “It’s so gross! She’s seventeen. And he’s old! Almost thirty!”

  The street was waking up. People were out looking for breakfast or walking their dogs. Anna was quiet, picking at her glittery green nails. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “I don’t really know your dad. But I’ve seen him. He comes into the bookstore when he’s sad. Lots of people do. That’s when Peas does his thing. And my mom says Xochi is great. ‘Remarkable.’ Such a my-mom word. I know she’s a lot younger than him, but maybe it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

  “Maybe.” Pallas shredded the balled-up napkin with a jagged fingernail. “I just thought my dad was, like, honorable. He has a rule about dating younger people. Because it’s not fair, he says. Because the older person has more experience and more power.” She stopped. Her body actually ached, like her insides had been ravaged by a trapped animal. A tear leaked out.

  Anna handed her another napkin. “Why does this change things?” she said carefully. “I mean, the rule sounds good. It makes sense. But what if they didn’t mean to break it? If it wasn’t on purpose or they weren’t doing it to be mean—”

  “But it is mean! They lied to me. They lied and went behind my back.”

  “Don’t be mad!” Anna grabbed Pallas’s hand. “I don’t even know what I’m talking about. I just don’t want you to feel bad.”

  “I’m not mad.” Pallas was surprised to find herself giving Anna’s hand a long, grateful squeeze. “Not at you.”

  Anna rested her head on Pallas’s shoulder. Pallas found herself leaning into the contact. She imagined them as animals. Dogs. Horses. Anything but stupid humans. The wind rose again, whispery and mean.

  “Come on,” Anna said. “Let’s go to my house and eat the rest of these donuts. I got us two more chocolate milks.”

  49

  If You See Her, Say Hello

  Sunlight bounced between the ornate apartment buildings of Russian Hill like a sticky sugar-hyped toddler. Xochi longed for sunglasses.

  She turned onto a nondescript part of Geary. The buildings in this part of town were too spread out, the trees anemic. It made the sky feel too big. Xochi tightened the drawstring of her hood, pulling it low on her forehead. Moving her body took enough concentration that she didn’t have to think.

  Pallas would be awake now, wondering where Xochi was. How long would it be before she figured out her governess was a total fuckup? And if she didn’t? If Xochi managed to lie well enough to fool her, would that be best? Some things couldn’t be undone.

  Geary narrowed, and taller buildings softened the exuberant light. She was in the theater district. A phone booth, old-timey with a wooden bench and a door that closed, beckoned on the corner. Xochi followed her impulse and went inside.

  Did she need to call someone? Her whole body ached to be at Eris Gardens, but according to Ky, she was a danger to anyone close to her. Xochi began to see a dividing line she’d missed before—people who came with a reasonable amount of baggage and people whose damage exceeded acceptable limits. An image of red hair and dark-lined eyes rose to meet the idea. Justine had started out at Eris Gardens, too. Like Xochi, she’d done something to fuck it all up.

  Xochi leaned against the cold glass of the booth. She should have eaten the breakfast Kylen bought her. She imagined staying, letting him help. Except if what he said was true and these scary avenging siblings were on some sort of mystery crusade, what could any of them do? And really, it wasn’t his problem. The green girl and her brother had come for Xochi. To fix her sorry excuse for a life.

  She stood and picked up the phone. She hung it up. She touched the spine of the black receiver. The booth was so much warmer than the street. She closed her eyes and followed the telephone wires between San Francisco and Badger Creek. With shaking fingers, she dialed to make the collect call, punched in the 707 area code and familiar number, the ingrained pattern a bittersweet souvenir of her old life.

  The phone rang. Xochi could picture the other end of the line so clearly—a messy bedroom smelling of clean laundry, weed, and teenage boy.

  “Ugh?”

  Thank goodness. He hadn’t lost the trick of intercepting the phone on the first ring to avoid parental questioning, even when he was sound asleep.

  “Collect call from Xochi Madrid,” the operator said. “Do you accept the charges?”

  “ . . . Yeah.”

  The operator clicked off. Xochi could feel Collier’s happiness through the phone line. There was a sound like a puppy shaking off a dip in a lake and her name in his familiar stoner purr. “Xochi?”

  Her skin rippled as if his breath came through the holes in the receiver.

  “You awake now, slacker?”

  “Almost.” She knew he was grinning.

  He must be so warm right now, she thought. How many summer mornings had she walked to his house, climbed through his window and into his bed? “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

  “Where are you?” He sounded worried. She should have called him before now. She let the tears stream down her face unchecked. It was the only way she could keep them out of her voice.

  “Big city,” she managed.

  “Seattle?” Collier sounded dubious. “SF?”

  “Something like that.”

  “What happened? You never said goodbye.” The words were almost too quiet to hear, but for Collier, this was a serious confrontation.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Might want to visit you, you know?” His voice was freer now. She remembered what it was like to be in his arms.

  “Now’s not a great time. I have to take care of something. But Coll?”

  “Xo?”

&n
bsp; “I promise, when it’s settled, I’ll tell you everything and you can come see me anytime you want.”

  “Okay.”

  They were silent again. Xochi had forgotten the long pauses practiced by many of the Native people she knew. With Collier, it used to drive her nuts. Now the silence was all right. She was willing to postpone the real reason for her call. How was she supposed to bring it up? But Collier beat her to it.

  “So, uh, yeah, there’s that thing about Evan . . . ”

  “I heard.” Xochi tried to sound normal. Watery coffee sloshed in her stomach.

  “He’s dead. You knew, right?”

  “Sure.” Xochi swallowed hard, grateful for the wooden seat that held her up and the contained space of the phone booth. There was no way she could write Kylen off as crazy now.

  “It was kind of messed up. The cause of death was drowning, but he wasn’t drinking. They checked. So how does a big guy like that drown in a shallow creek stone-cold sober?”

  “Karma,” Xochi whispered.

  Collier was quiet on the other end of the line. They’d never talked about Evan, about what he’d done, but Collier knew something wasn’t right. When Loretta died, he’d wanted her to move in with his family. They had a spare room since his sister had left for nursing school, but Xochi knew there was no way his parents would say yes. They’d always been sweet when Xochi and Collier were kids, but things changed when his mom figured out they weren’t in the bedroom building Lego spaceships anymore. Apparently, Xochi had inherited a scarlet badge from Gina. The older she got, the less the women around town seemed to trust her.

  “Karma, yeah,” Collier answered. “It was karma, no doubt.”

  Xochi remembered the way his full lips got tight when he was worried. Picturing his face made the tears come faster.

  “Coll, I gotta go. Thank you for talking to me. You sound so good.”

  “You sound weird.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “For real?”

  “For real.”