Jubilee

by Jennifer Givhan

  He nodded. “Yeah, it reminds you of your dad.” He started singing, softly. “If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?”

  She was crying. “When we were free, Gabe. When we’d roll down the windows and cruise Main Street, taking the long way to school.”

  “We’ve always taken the long way, Bee.”

  “On that pier, you held me. You told me you’d missed me.”

  “I miss you like hell every time I’m away from you.”

  “Then why do you push me away?”

  He shook his head.

  “Those fishermen reeling up eels beside us? Your breath against my neck? The fog and the sunrise . . . were those nothing but dreams? Cinematic? Unrealistic?”

  “We wouldn’t be here if I thought that.”

  “How long will you love me?”

  “Lord knows I can’t change,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

  She tried not to roll her eyes. She was so tired of being cliché. Tired of being a cardboard version of the woman she was meant to be. She knew he couldn’t change. But the problem was, why couldn’t she?

  They looked at apartments all afternoon, but the cheapest one they found was eighteen hundred bucks a month, plus utilities. Why did Gabe want to move to Newport? Why couldn’t they move inland? Anaheim or Santa Ana would’ve been cheaper. They could’ve lived near Matty. Okay, neither man would’ve wanted that. She sighed. The farther inland they went, the more like the Valley it got. She could see it on Gabe’s face when they arrived at the beach. He wanted water after all that drought.

  She felt as out of place in Newport as she had at Holy Cross. Everyone blond or sun streaked. Everyone with a perfect body. She felt like a brown blob staining the ceiling. Conspicuous. Untidy. The boys had treated her like a fly on the wall. Her “brothers” from the adjacent fifth floor on the other side of the freshman dorms had laughed at her hair net when she worked in the kitchen to help offset the cost of meals because Mama couldn’t afford the full mean-plan otherwise. They’d ignored her in her bright hula dress and lei at the Hawaiian mixer. Not light not dark. Not thin not elephantine. She’d made no impression on them. She was not their sister, not girlfriend material. She was nothing. To Gabe she was something. Sexy as hell. His poeta. His woman. But after apartment hunting, her brown curly hair was frizzy from the salt air, her rotund belly felt grotesque. She felt like an indigenous woman in a Diego Rivera painting. She’d paint some maize in her arms, and she’d be set. Had she really internalized a Western standard of beauty so deeply that now she was even disrespecting the indigenous women she’d come from?—her bisabuela and her bisabuela’s mother, who’d crossed the Sonoran to birth her on this side. And still, she felt so full of herself, so ironically self-absorbed, indulging in self-loathing. There were bigger problems in the world than feeling judged by people who might not have been judging her. She should have been holding her head high, proud of her body, thick as masa, proud of her heritage. Still, she was convinced that these Newport residents looked at her like their cleaning lady—right through her. Not as La Profesora, as Gabe’s family called her.

  Her feet hurt from walking all day, her back ached. Gabe was in a bad mood. “I don’t know how we’ll afford it out here,” he said. “With you not working.”

  “I can work.”

  “But for how long? You’ll have to take maternity leave. Who’s gonna have to pay for that? Me. I’ll have to. And I still have to send money back to Katrina and Lana.”

  He slammed his truck door closed as she slid into the passenger seat.

  On the dashboard was a pile of job applications and apartment pamphlets. He grabbed them and threw them to the back seat.

  “We could look for somewhere less expensive, closer to LA County,” she said. “We don’t have to start out at the beach.”

  “This whole thing was a stupid idea.”

  “Why does it have to be here, Gabe? Why can’t we settle for something else, for now?”

  “Because. That’s why.”

  He had a picture of what his life would be like. Was Bianca part of that picture?

  “We don’t have to make any decisions today. Let’s see how things go with getting a job, and we’ll keep searching. There must be someplace we can afford.”

  He started the ignition.

  His frustration was palpable, an object on the center console between them. She reached over, set her hand on his leg. “You want to pick up fish and chips and go back to the hotel, watch a movie?”

  “I told Frank’s daughter, Adriana, we would meet her for dinner.”

  She pulled her hand back. “Frank’s daughter?”

  “My nino, Frank. You’ve met him and his ex-wife, Belen.”

  “Your cousin, Adriana?”

  “She’s not my cousin. We’re not related.”

  “Your padrinos aren’t your aunt and uncle?”

  “No.”

  Bianca’s padrinos were her aunt and uncle. She’d assumed the same for his. That’s why she’d never asked any questions about Adriana. She wasn’t his cousin? That bothered Bianca.

  “Hey, Gabe. I’m tired. Maybe it’s Braxton Hicks; I’m all achy.”

  “I promised her already. I can’t ditch her. I can drop you off at the motel.”

  “No. I’ll go with you.”

  A few months ago, he’d left her in the empty house alone with the stomach flu while he’d gone to a bar with Adriana, who was in town visiting.

  She wasn’t his cousin?

  Then what the hell were they doing together at that bar? And what might they do at dinner if Bianca weren’t there? Her anger was dampened only by her foolishness that her life had turned into a telenovela, a sappy daytime reality show. Would the pregnant girlfriend end up alone?

  “Fine.”

  Eating at Joe’s crab shack with Adriana wasn’t the romantic dinner at the beach Bianca had imagined. She was frustrated he hadn’t shared his plans. How long ago had he made them? She was more surprised by Adriana. Frank and Belen’s daughter, Bianca had thought would look like them—perhaps chubby with dark hair. Not so. Adriana was molded straight from the teen drama The O.C. Rachel Bilson could’ve played Adriana’s character in a movie—after getting some shining blond highlights for that perfect sun-kissed look. Petite and thin, Adriana’s hips jutted out against her skinny jeans, and her collarbones made her look like a strangely seductive clothes hanger in her plunging halter top. Bianca would bet Adriana didn’t need to wear a bra.

  Gabe ordered the Crab Daddy feast, a big bucket of crab, corn on the cob, and red potatoes. He and Adriana each had two Corona Lights apiece. Bianca ordered a Diet Coke but felt guilty because of the caffeine. All through dinner, Adriana and Gabe joked and laughed. Adriana hugged Gabe a few too many times. How often did their hands brush as they reached for the bucket? Something made Bianca sick. The baby didn’t like crab. Or didn’t like Adriana.

  Adriana barely spoke a word to Bianca all night and focused all her pretty blond attention on Gabe. Bianca rolled her eyes at Adriana’s lame jokes. She didn’t seem smart. If anything was going on between her and Gabe, Bianca would find out. She wouldn’t be the other woman again. Not for Gabe. That role was behind her. She thought of a line from H. D.’s poem “Eurydice”—

  hell must break before I am lost;

  before I am lost,

  hell must open like a red rose

  for the dead to pass.

  Sylvia Plath would rather have stuck her head in an oven than be the other woman.

  But Bianca could become a chiasmus, her whole splintered self—a crossing. Hell would have to open like a red rose before Gabe dragged her back to feeling ashamed. Before she went back to that, the dead would have to pass.

  Or she’d drag them all down with her.

  Twenty-eight

  O
ne Birthday,

  A Few Drops of Blood

  With Jubilee

  Today was Jubilee’s birthday.

  Bee had said so.

  Easter the week before had been a bust. Joshua, too scared and guilty to celebrate, put a rift between him and Bee. They dyed eggs and hunted with Jayden in the grass outside the apartments by the communal barbecues, collecting coins and candies, but Joshua’s heart wasn’t in it. The social worker was coming soon, and Joshua still hadn’t figured out a plan. How to keep his wife from a breakdown, how to keep their lives together, how to keep everyone safe.

  Today, Wednesday, April 21, he slumped over at the kitchen table, chin in hands, watching Bee and Jayden bake a cake. Beside them in the high chair, Jubilee stared ahead.

  Joshua sighed, reaching into his pocket. He’d needed his inhaler more often lately. He hadn’t been sleeping much either. Every night, he watched Bee snoring away, deep and dreaming (he could tell by the fluttering of her eyelids) as she curled on her left side clutching the body pillow between him and the bed, her swelling belly sinking into the cushion. Her body formed a question mark. But he didn’t know the answer. How could he break her heart? Would she ever forgive him?

  He and Jayden had bought a birthday present for Jubilee. A book they’d found on display in the children’s section of Barnes & Noble, beside a stuffed rabbit. Jayden had said, “Bee likes rabbits, like Velveteen.” It was called The Runaway Bunny. In the book, when the little bunny announces he’ll run away, his mama says she’ll run after him. He counters he’ll become a fish in a trout stream and swim away from her, but that mama was smart. She says if he becomes a fish in a trout stream, she’ll become a fisherman and fish for him. Not outdone, he says he’ll become a ship and sail away. But that mama says she’ll become a wind cloud and blow him in the direction she wants. And so it goes. Whatever he becomes, she becomes the thing that can catch him or guide him back until the bunny gives up and decides to stay with his mama. Eat a carrot, she says.

  Joshua figured the book would be good for Bee. She was a mother to something that couldn’t ever leave. She was baking Jubilee a cake she could not eat. Joshua tried not to be bitter. It was hard. He remembered Bee quoting something from one of her essays on Chicana poets earlier in the semester. Feeding is the beginning and end of what a mother knows to do for her offspring. Bee told him Ana Castillo said that. He didn’t know who Ana Castillo was, but he liked the quote. He would’ve changed it to parent. Fathers didn’t know what to do either.

  Jayden hopped on the chair propped against the kitchen counter as Bee demonstrated how to frost the cake, not too thick but enough so you didn’t catch crumbs in the frosting or it’d be lumpy. Jayden said he liked lumps. She said he was a lump, and they both laughed. Joshua felt removed. She handed Jayden a plastic spatula so he could try, but he got more chocolate frosting on his hands and face than on the cake. “Can we eat it now?”

  “No, mijo. At a birthday party, we have to sing then blow out the candles first.” She pushed a candle in the shape of a number one into the top of the cake. “Come on, let’s go sit with your dada and open Jubilee’s presents.”

  “Then cake?”

  “Yes, then cake.” She laughed, scooping Jubilee from the high chair and onto her lap. Jayden stood on a chair at the table and scooted Jubilee’s presents toward her. Matty had sent one home with Bee that day when she’d picked up Jubilee from his house. He still watched her whenever Bee was in class or tutoring at the Writing Center. Joshua had wanted to talk to Matty again, figure out how to end the ritual. But he’d chickened out.

  “Open ours first,” Jayden called, squirming atop the chair, handing her the present.

  As she unwrapped it, she said, “Josh, I keep forgetting to ask you. Matty needs you to confirm Comic-Con. He’s getting your ticket for free.”

  “Okay, I’ll call him.” They’d been planning a trip to San Diego, but Joshua wasn’t looking forward to that anymore. The social worker visit had taken over all his thoughts. It was bullshit. He got up for a soda from the fridge so Bee wouldn’t see how upset he was.

  From behind the kitchen island, he watched Bee unwrap the present. She tilted her head back and smiled. “Oh, I love this book. Wherever bunny goes, his mother will find him because she is his mother bunny. I remember this from a play I read in my modern drama class. Thank you, guys. This is lovely.”

  “We picked it because you like rabbits,” Jayden said.

  Bee laughed. “I do?”

  “Yes, Velvet ones.”

  “Oh, I do. This is perfect. Thank you.”

  Jayden clapped his hands. Bee looked over at Joshua, so he winked at her, forcing his mouth into a smile. He was trying so damn hard to be with her.

  “There’s still another present. Open Uncle Matty’s. It’s cake time.”

  Bee laughed. “What’s up with you and cake, mijo?” From the gift bag and tissue, she pulled out a yellow ruffled dress with matching booties and bonnet. It was tiny. He must have bought it in the preemie section.

  The number candle on the cake was One. Bee had picked it out. It was Jubilee’s first birthday. She was a year old. Didn’t Bee ever wonder why her baby didn’t grow? She’d explained away the crying, imagined diapers needed changing, exchanged the plastic bottle for a real one. But how could she justify her baby staying a baby forever? In her mind. What about Jubilee’s third birthday? Her tenth? What would happen in a few short months when their own baby was born? Would she compare her with Jubilee? Would she ever understand the difference?

  They needed counseling. Joshua had screwed up. The charade had to end. “That dress looks small. Jubilee is a one-year-old now. Shouldn’t she wear a bigger size?”

  She looked at Joshua like he’d startled her, squinting, a question on her face, not quite a glare. She looked at the tag on the dress. You can’t backtrack now. “Is it the right size?” He prodded, trying to keep his voice casual. His heart was racing. He didn’t need a freak-out from her today. Not in front of Jayden. He was still scared of the bathtub incident.

  “It’s NB, size newborn.” Her voice was flat.

  “That’s strange, isn’t it? She’s not a newborn anymore.” You jerk. She’s gonna see through you.

  “Can we eat cake now, please? I can’t wait. I’m going crazy. I’m starving. I need cake.” Jayden was pulling on his face with both palms, stretching the skin on his cheeks like a little zombie boy and widening his eyes so the veiny part of the whites showed. “Cake!”

  “Hang on, little guy. I need to talk to Bee about this. It’s important.”

  “It’s a dumb dress. Jubilee has lots of dresses,” Jayden said, pouting.

  “Bee? What do you think? Why’s she still wearing newborn clothes?”

  She frowned. “Do you think she’s sick? Is that what you’re saying? Something’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. She doesn’t look sick. But it doesn’t seem normal, does it? For a baby not to grow? By the time Jayden was a year old, he was wearing size twenty-four months. He’s a big guy, so we can’t compare them. But it’s strange, right?”

  She nodded. She looked at Jayden, who’d stuck his finger in the cake and licked the frosting. She looked at Jubilee. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  “For what, Bee? Think about it. What are you gonna watch her do? She’s not growing. She’s not changing.” She’s not real. Come on, Bee. See it. Please.

  “Stop it, Josh. Just stop. It’s her birthday. Not now, not now, not now . . .” She was rocking back and forth.

  Fuck. A meltdown. “Hey, Bee. Shhh, I’m sorry. Let’s just eat cake.” He swallowed back the lump in his throat. Eat your carrot, said the mother bunny.

  Jayden squealed. “Yay!”

  Joshua lit the candle. He and Jayden sang Happy birthday to you, but Bee was silent. After the song finished, the candle kept burning. Who’s gonna blow i
t out? Who’s gonna make a wish?

  Jayden blew a raspberry, and the light flickered out.

  Denial wouldn’t work. They were falling apart. What happened to a deceit deferred? Did it explode? The social worker was coming the next morning, and he had no idea how to ask his wife to keep her delusion to herself.

  “Josh! I need help . . .”

  He climbed out of bed, groggy, pushing the blankets off his body. He’d dreamt Bee needed something. He couldn’t reach her. “Josh!” He wasn’t dreaming. Bee was calling him.

  It was déjà vu. Bee, screaming.

  He switched on the bedroom lights and looked around the room. She wasn’t there.

  He slogged out to the living room where Bee was standing in front of the entertainment center staring into the fishbowl. She was crying.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The fish.”

  He came closer, rubbed sleep from his eyes. The goldfish floated upside-down in the water. “Ah, I’m sorry.” He reached out to hug her, but she pushed his arms away.

  “I can’t even keep a fucking fish alive.”

  “Shhh . . . You’re upset, I know, but don’t wake Jayden. It’ll scare him.”

  “I know, I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Jayden was asleep. Joshua shut the kid’s bedroom door.

  Bee lay in a heap on the floor.

  “Hey . . . I’m here,” he said, kneeling down and stroking her hair.

  “Even fucking fish drown. Water should be illegal. All water.”

  “I know. Damn stuff is dangerous.” What was it with her and drowning? It was a goldfish. They don’t live long. Why was she so upset? “Can you try to relax? What were you doing awake? Was something wrong?”

  “I got up to pee and was spotting so I came out to watch TV. I found the fish. Dead.”

  Oh shit. She was spotting. Shit. Was that real? Or like when she thought Jayden was drowning in the bathtub? Joshua would have to check without upsetting her more. If she was bleeding, he’d call the doctor. If not, goddamn. What if not? Was she slipping away from him?