When her crying subsided, he asked, “Is Jubilee asleep?”
“I checked on her before I came out. She’s fine. She’s always fine, isn’t she?” Her tone was bitter. Joshua wasn’t used to this Bee. Part of him wanted to call Dr. Norris.
“Was it a lot of blood? And what color?” What are you doing? You’re not a doctor.
“A few drops and dark tinged, stringy.”
“That’s not bad.” He reassured himself as much as her. “Want to go to the ER in case?”
He’d pushed her at Jubilee’s birthday party. She wasn’t ready to let go. With the social worker and the pregnancy, it was too much. But Bee was a goddamn mess, huddled on the ground in the middle of the night. If a goldfish dying could upset her, what would happen if Joshua smashed her bubble? All he needed to say was if you mention Jubilee to the social worker, if you hold her or rock her or sing to her, we could lose our son. They had to pretend. Long enough to buy time. They could go to counseling. They could get real help, the kind he couldn’t give her. What if she wasn’t really bleeding?
“I don’t think I need to go to the ER,” she said, pulling herself onto the couch, clutching her belly. “But will you help me check? I’m scared.” That made two of them. Joshua breathed as deeply as he could. It wasn’t the time to hyperventilate. He helped her to the master bathroom, where she pulled down her flannel pajama pants, grabbed a wad of toilet paper, wiped and showed him.
“Hardly anything,” he said, relieved. There was blood. Not enough to be concerned about. Could’ve been from her exam last week, or from sex the other day. “We’ll call the doctor in the morning. I’ll make you tea, rub your feet.” He walked behind her, holding her close, his body pressed against hers, hands around her waist, footsteps in unison, back toward the bed. “I’ll be back with your tea. Honey?”
She smiled in that strange half smile of hers, the corners of her mouth turned down. “Thank you,” she said.
“No problem.”
“Not for the honey,” she said. “Thank you for loving me.”
“That’s no problem, either.” He winked, but as he closed the bedroom door, he thought She’s not the problem, I am. He’d gone into his profession to help others. Keep them from going through what he’d gone through. Yet there he was on the cusp of disaster. At Patti’s doorway listening to her son say there was no room in their house, in their lives, for him. He should’ve spoken up then. He should’ve told Patti that he was her boy and she knew it. Not to listen to her son. But you were a chicken then and you’re a chicken now.
On his way to the kitchen, he stopped in the living room. He took the fishbowl to the hallway bathroom, flushed the fish down the toilet.
He opened the door to Jayden’s bedroom. The constellation nightlight glowed amber, and the Big Bear, as Jayden called him, shone on the ceiling. They’d mapped those stars, learning each cluster’s name and story. Joshua couldn’t let him go. He had to be tough. Patti had given in too easily. He couldn’t let that happen.
He walked to the kitchen, determined. He filled the teakettle, ready. He steeped the tea, strong. He whispered aloud to the cabinet doors, practicing, We have to pretend. I love Jubilee as much as you do. I would never ask you to hide her if it weren’t necessary. But it is. The social worker won’t understand. She’ll deny us. We’ll lose Jayden. Bee, we’ll lose him.
She could handle it. She wasn’t glass. It wasn’t much blood. Normal spotting. She was fine. She wouldn’t miscarry. She was ready. If not, it didn’t matter. She had to be ready. He poured honey into the tea, the way she liked it, and put the mug on a plate with cookies. She’d forgive him.
He opened their bedroom door. Bee snored loud pregnancy snores, her legs wrapped around a body pillow.
He sighed then gulped her mug of tea, scorching his throat. Shit. He dropped the mug to the floor and sank into the rocking chair beside the bed. He stared at Bee, curled on her side, their baby swimming inside her, gullible little fish. I don’t know what you’ll be coming out to, kid.
After the social worker checked on them, they’d pack for Comic-Con in San Diego. They’d dig holes in the sand on the beach. He was overreacting. Everything would be fine. The social worker was coming, and they were going to the beach. Then why was he picturing them on the island of dolls, drowning? He glanced at Jubilee’s bassinet in the corner of the room. Even fish drown. Even good parents lose children.
Twenty-nine
Marry Me
Before Jubilee
On the way home from Newport Beach, in the passenger seat of Gabe’s pine-green truck, Bianca imagined what her life might look like, slow-cooked each night in the menudo caldron where vast brown desert shouldered acres of farms in dusty brown lots and field upon field of alfalfa. This place muttered of empty beer cans strewn on yellowing patches of grass, cars parked on lawns, twenty-four-hour doughnut shops that never emptied, and migrant field workers laboring in ungodly heat while the foremen and white farmers sat in their air-conditioned trucks. Her heart burst in this desert with prickly cactus flowers, blooming in the cracks of sun-scorched pavement—hot enough to burn skin, to sear the soft patches of dirt-blackened feet—where grandmothers set out pitchers of tea to brew on their front porches. Where Gabe might leave her. Where she hated herself for not leaving him.
They drove away from the ocean through the rolling hills. Beaumont. The casinos. Off the Arizona freeway, onto the two-lane Highway 86. Out into the arid brown. Down into California’s basin—its toilet tank, as Gabe called it.
Past the Salton Sea, the date-farm signs lured: “Stop and drink date shakes here.” She’d never stopped for a date shake because dates reminded her of the tall palms in the empty lots behind her house with the No Trespassing signs she ignored, where she picked dates that had fallen to the hard-packed earth and chucked them at passing cars or down into the ravine toward the river. She’d never actually eaten a date, although she’d sucked on figs whole summers through. Dates reminded her of cockroaches, the swollen creatures that scuttled then flew. She could never bring herself to put one in her mouth.
But the signs boasted, “Cold, refreshing, sweet.” So she asked Gabe to stop, and he bought her one. Frothy and amber-colored.
She made a face as she took a sip. “Ugh. This is gross. I knew I’d hate dates.”
“Then why’d you want a date shake? The name kind of implies the dates.”
“I don’t know. It sounded good.”
“Well, don’t waste that. Here, give it to me. I’ll drink it.” They started driving again.
She handed it over, still thirsty. “Date shakes on the side of the road conjure up my feelings for you,” she said. “All those drives back and forth through this desert. Away from you. Back to you. Star-crossed, date-crossed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know.”
He smelled like Cool Water aftershave and that sickly-sweet fruit. She rubbed her hand against his neck, his short spiky hair prickling her hands.
“Hey, cut that out. I’m trying to drive.”
“We’ve done a lot more than that while you were driving.”
“I know. It’s just, I don’t feel like that right now.”
“You know, I’ve been waiting for you since I was fourteen. Waiting for our life to begin.”
“What’s it been up till now? Aren’t we living?”
“Not the way I imagined.”
“That’s a lot of pressure on a person, isn’t it? To live up to someone’s dream?” He sighed, glanced at her quickly, then returned his gaze to the road. “I mean, why me, anyway?”
She’d developed this idea of what they were, and it didn’t matter that reality didn’t match up. She’d fooled herself with this beautiful idea. That the truth wasn’t pretty no longer held relevance.
Except it did.
“You acted
like you were on a date with her. What the hell was that?”
“What are you talking about now? I can’t even understand you today.”
“Adriana.”
“Come on, Bee. I’ve known her all my life.”
“She’s pretty though, isn’t she?”
“I guess.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It doesn’t mean anything. Jesus. What’s your problem, Bee? Pregnancy hormones really suck.”
“This isn’t hormones. This is me being tired of the same old thing.”
“I’m tired too.”
“We’re having a family together. I’m tired of feeling like second string when I should be your first. Your only. I’m tired of not being able to face my family.”
“How is it my fault you refuse to see your family?”
“You never take responsibility for anything.”
“What do you think I’m doing now?”
“I’m a responsibility. Real nice.” She said it like rocks in her mouth, jagged against her tongue.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, you did.”
He sighed again. “Fine. Maybe I did.”
“I can raise this baby alone. I’m strong enough. I don’t need your help.”
“I know that.”
She still wanted the colors, the Folklorico dress of her girlhood, spinning and spinning. She wanted his voice and the butterflies he called up in her—even now. Even when she hated him, she loved him. She felt knotted to him, and although she could have cut the cord, stripped herself of memory until she was rid of him, slice by slice, she wasn’t sure she was ready. Their baby danced inside her. She could feel her wiggling around. Bubbles popping in her belly. Hiccoughs. Laughter. He’d glued pieces of himself inside of her. She felt them there, sticking.
She blurted out, “Marry me.” She almost put her hand over her mouth. The words had slipped out. She hadn’t realized they were coming.
Two red balloons in the air. An SOS.
Marry. Me.
He pulled the car over to the shoulder, throwing up clouds of dirt beneath the tires, then turned to face her.
“Bee. I love you. I do. And I know what an asshole I can be. I’m trying to do the right thing. I keep trying not to screw up.” He looked behind her, out the window. She braced herself and waited—sage brush, tumbleweed, dry arroyo beds—for his answer. “I know marrying you is the right thing. But I’m just not ready. I’m not.”
She breathed out sharply, said nothing. Bubbles popping. Inside her.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, reaching for her hand, but she pulled away.
Thirty
The Home Inspection
With Jubilee
Bee was humming from the bedroom. A bad sign. But the apartment was clean. Joshua had checked the water heater and stocked the fridge and pantry with fruits, vegetables, healthy snacks. On the top shelf of the hall closet, he’d secured first-aid and emergency kits. Jayden wore corduroy pants and a vest, his curls shined and glossed, his teeth brushed. Bee was humming, but she seemed stable enough otherwise.
They were ready.
Footsteps up the stairway meant nothing good was coming. “Come here, big guy.” Joshua pulled Jayden into his arms and squeezed him tight.
Jayden laughed, dimples forming at his cheeks. “Fly me like an airplane!”
“To the moon.” He buried his face into Jayden’s chest and landed him safely. He was crying. Shit. The social worker couldn’t see him crying. He wiped his eyes on Jayden’s shirt then set him down. Please don’t let Jayden say anything suspicious. How had he let it go so far? Bee in the bedroom, humming to herself, afraid she might still be spotting. He and Jayden waiting for a social worker. Fucking Olivia. Why had she called the social worker? He’d promised to take care of her boy, promised not to let anyone take him away.
Though he knew it was coming, the knock on the door startled him. Jayden stood straight with his hands clasped behind his back as if trying to appear taller and more dignified. He looked official, like he was awaiting orders. A little solider in a brown checkered vest.
Joshua opened the door and said hello, plastering a grin across his face he hoped appeared natural and sincere (or, at least, wasn’t trembling).
“I’m Cristina Long, your social worker. We’ve spoken on the phone.” She offered Joshua her hand. In her other hand, she carried a black briefcase. She had mousy brown hair and an uneven complexion, scarred from acne, and wore a gray suit, threadbare and too large for her frame. She was a small woman and had a kind face. But what could Joshua tell from her face? She could’ve been pretending, like he was. Don’t trust her. Don’t let your guard down. Look out for traps. One step ahead.
“Please come in. We’ve been expecting you.” Joshua’s voice came out strangely ominous, like the creepy butler at the Disneyland Haunted Mansion before locking the parlor, turning out the lights, and flaunting the dead man hanging from the rafter above the ceiling. A siren warned Intruder. Alarm bells, residual from childhood. You don’t know what to expect.
Cristina thanked him and came inside.
Before Joshua realized what was happening, Bee had shuffled into the living room in a sundress and house shoes. She extended one hand to the social worker, keeping her other hand atop her belly. He breathed out relief that she hadn’t brought Jubilee with her. “Hi, Cristina. Nice to meet you.” Bee flashed one of her gorgeous smiles, her golden eyes sparkling. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought Bee was truly at ease. “I’m Bianca, Joshua’s wife. Jayden’s mama.” Flawless. She was doing great. He’d been worried for nothing.
“Oh my, look at you.” Cristina laughed. “When are you due?”
“August second.”
Cristina smiled. “That’s not far away. Is this your first?”
He hated her already. First what? Pregnancy? Real, living, nondoll baby? She was setting them up for failure. The disappointments and anger he wanted to hurl at Patti, Olivia, and Ms. McCall, maybe even that he should’ve felt toward Bee, all of it tumbled out at Cristina, the disrespectful social worker in her shabby gray suit.
He spoke before Bee could. “We’re all excited about the new baby. Aren’t we Jayden?”
Cristina turned and noticed, for the first time, Jayden, standing stoically, puffing his chest and clasping his hands behind his back. “Hi there, Jayden,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand. “How are you?”
Crisis averted.
Jayden ignored her outstretched hand. Good for him. It was their animal spirit, that owl stalking its prey from a branch up high, waiting to swoop.
Cristina smiled again, but it looked forced. She pulled her hand back when it was clear Jayden wouldn’t shake it, then she squatted to his eye-level and tried again. “I’m Cristina, and I’m here to have a little chat with you and your mom and dad. Is that okay?”
Jayden shrugged. “Sure. Do you like to read?”
“I do like to read. What’s your favorite book?”
“Velveteen Rabbit. Bee, I mean, my mama gave it to me.” He said mama as if trying to prove something. “It’s both our favorite. We read it all the time.”
“That’s a good one. I’ve read it to my kids.”
“You have kids?”
“Yep, two of them. A boy and a girl.”
“Cool. Want me to show you my room?”
Joshua tried not to roll his eyes. Classic social worker move, gaining the kids’ trust. Jayden had given in too easily. Joshua had never warmed up to a social worker so fast. He used to run and hide behind Patti’s couch whenever one would come over. He’d stashed a cache of comics underneath the base of the couch where he would hide, lying on his stomach reading until Patti or Olivia pulled him out by his ankles.
“Sure, I’d love to see your room,”
Cristina said. She stood to face them. “I’ll chat with him a few minutes first, alone, if you don’t mind. Then we can have a conversation before I begin the home inspection.”
“That’s fine,” Joshua said. But at the word inspection, his gut twisted and he felt out of breath. He resisted the urge to pull out his inhaler in front of Cristina. Oscar’s and Olivia’s words whirled through his mind, sputtering wacko. Batshit crazy. They wouldn’t let a crazy take care of Jayden, she’d said. He felt dizzy. Maybe you’re the crazy one, Joshy.
“What will she ask him?” Bee whispered as they disappeared into Jayden’s room. She scooted closer to Joshua and reached for his arms, which he extended, wrapping around her. In his anxiety, he’d forgotten she should’ve been resting, just in case that spotting was anything to be concerned about.
“I don’t know.”
They waited in silence, transfixed on the crack in Jayden’s doorway. They heard laughter. Pieces of conversation. Joshua couldn’t stop imagining the social worker dragging Jayden away.
From Cristina, “How long . . .”
From Jayden, “Dada . . . a baby. Bee . . . came from the beach.”
From Cristina, “Excited . . . baby sister?”
From Jayden, “Best big brother.”
Joshua heard nothing about Jubilee. He sighed. Maybe God was listening.
A few minutes later, Cristina followed Jayden out of his room, both of them smiling.
“He’s a wonderful kid,” Cristina said. “You two must be proud.”
“I told Cristina how we’re going to San Diego this weekend.”
“A family trip,” Joshua said. See, we’re a normal family who goes on beach vacations.
“Can I get you anything to drink or eat, Cristina?” Bee asked, leading her to the dining table.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you. You know, he’s a great little boy,” Cristina reiterated. “He had nothing but positive remarks for both of you.”
Joshua almost joked that he was relieved Jayden didn’t mention anything about them locking him in the closet. But why risk it? Only Bee thought his lame jokes were funny. Instead, he said, “We couldn’t imagine our lives without him.”
Jubilee Page 25
