“Don’t break the washer,” Lucas said and I jumped.
Mrs. Donaldson maneuvered through the door with Andy on one hip and a basket of dirty clothes on the other. She’d want to know why I wasn’t in school, but she couldn’t make me go. No one could make me face Jackson and Miguel and admit they’d been right and I’d been wrong.
“You OK, Aidyn?” Mrs. Donaldson looked almost scared to ask me.
“Yeah.” I tried to keep the surliness from my voice, but I lost the battle. I’d lost every battle lately.
She raised her eyebrows then sighed. “I saw your mom’s car. Is she home today, too?”
I scrambled to my feet and stalked out, leaving my basket of nasty towels on top of the dryer. Did everyone have to know? Mrs. Donaldson probably thought I was as stupid and childish as Miguel and Jackson did because I believed my perfect little fantasy could last forever. It hadn’t even lasted a month.
I crept through the courtyard to the street, but I was scared to go any farther. I hardly ever ditched but if I did today, for sure I’d get caught, and what would happen when the cops called my mom to find out why? Well, they’d find out fast. That was sure.
After watching the street, though, I gathered up enough courage to run around the corner to the thrift store, my haven. I could sit in the back and spend hours going through the paperbacks. The lady who ran the store didn’t care who was there as long as we didn’t make trouble for her. I knew how to not make trouble.
I didn’t trudge home until I realized I’d missed both breakfast and lunch. The apartment door was shut and locked. I remembered slamming it, but not locking it. Mom must have gotten up. Had she opened the door for a delivery? I bit my lip. I should have stayed home. I’d have turned the delivery away and then maybe she’d have been able to stop again. But now?
Inside I sniffed. No wine, just a lingering sourness and the cleaner I’d used on the floors. I heard Mom’s voice, saying, “No, no, that’s all.” She must have been able to get up to plug in the phone. I wondered who she’d called. Joyce? Elaine? Or for another delivery?
Toni walked out of the hall and caught me shaking in the middle of the living room. “Aidyn!” She stepped back to call, “She’s back, Beth.” The scowl she turned on me puzzled me.
“What are you doing here?” I glared as hard at Mom’s boss as she did at me, but tension uncurled in my stomach, and I thought I’d be just as sick as Mom.
“Aidyn,” Mom called, but I ignored her.
“We just got back from the hospital.” Toni shifted and crossed her arms. “They had to put an IV in her; she’d gotten so dehydrated. But she kept down some soup so I guess she’s getting better.”
I blinked at the soup bowl in her hand. “Why’d you take her there? It’s just a hangover.”
“It just isn’t.” Toni gave me the kind of look she used to keep for Mom, disgusted and irritated. “If you’d listened to your mother for once, I wouldn’t have had to leave the nursery to come take care of her.”
She handed me the bowl, and I set it on the coffee table. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mother. Who has the flu, which she told you.”
“She wasn’t drinking?” I stared at Toni without seeing much of her face, only her eyes burning into mine, full of accusations. If only I’d believed Mom. If only I’d trusted her. If only I hadn’t left her when she was sick. But I’d hurt her again, for nothing. I dodged around Toni and bolted into Mom’s room.
She lay on her side, one hand dangling over the edge, her hair damp with sweat and flattened against her white face.
I squatted next to her, my fingertips on the mattress. “Mom?”
“Aidyn.” She didn’t open her eyes, but she reached for me. “Baby, where’d you go?”
“The thrift store. Mom, I’m sorry. I should have believed you. I should’ve known you wouldn’t lie to me.”
“No.” She swallowed, and when I stroked her cheek, she opened her eyes. “If I had been drinking, you can bet I would have lied to you about it.”
“No, Mom.”
“Sure, I would. I always have, haven’t I? That wouldn’t…” she sighed. “That wouldn’t change. Don’t feel bad, baby. Toni’s mad, but I don’t blame you at all.”
She nestled deeper into the pillow, her eyelids fluttering shut. I rolled to my knees and watched her breathe. “Mom, can I get you anything?”
“No.” She waved her fingers. “Toni made me eat, and I just need to sleep. I’m OK, as long as you’re here…” Her voice trailed off.
“I won’t leave again.” I crept back to the living room.
Toni had cleaned up the kitchen, and I could tell she’d done it not to help out but to give herself a reason to stay and chew me out. Her glare made me feel four years old again, and very bad.
“You didn’t have to act like that. You weren’t being fair, were you? And I called and called and got no answer so I came over. Lucky thing I did, too!”
“I told her I was sorry.” I was not going to tell Toni that, though.
“Well, all I can say is you’d better not tell me that again unless you know it’s true. The first time I called was to tell Beth she was fired.”
“I won’t tell you anything.”
She stared at me, her lip curling, and I sneered back. I sure didn’t want my attitude to lose Mom her job, but Toni could really get on my nerves.
She finally leaned to pick up her purse, but as she slung it over her shoulder she told me, “You don’t deserve her, Aidyn.”
“What?”
“I know living with an alcoholic isn’t any picnic, but Beth would do anything for you. She’d die for you. And you treat her like crap.”
“I don’t—”
“You’re just a selfish, spoiled brat and the sooner she figures that out, the better off she’ll be.” She left me shaking again, trying to hold the shock inside me. Toni couldn’t be right, not about everything. Not about me. What right did she have to walk in here and judge me? After all, my mother forgave me.
I eased Mom’s door open without squeaking the hinges so I could listen to her breathing. In between cleaning and folding laundry, I stood outside her door and watched her—watched her chest rise and fall. I savored the grace of the moment when I’d realized Mom hadn’t started drinking again. The whole miserable day had been my fault. I was stupid and selfish and undeserving, just as Toni said, but I could deal with that. I could deal with anything but Mom drinking.
When the phone rang, I dashed to grab it before it woke her.
“Where were you today?” Miguel asked.
“Home. Mom has the flu, and she ended up in the hospital. But she’s home now.”
“Don’t you get sick, OK? I missed you, Aidyn.”
“I missed you, too.”
“You coming to school tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, unless Mom is a lot worse.”
“I need to see you, Aidyn.”
Surprise kept me silent.
“Aidyn?”
“I’m here. Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. My dad. Talk about being worse.”
“Mom is sick!” How dare he assume it was booze that made her sick.
But that’s what I’d done.
“And my dad isn’t.” His voice roughened. “Only he keeps telling me it’s a disease, but that’s only when he’s trying to get sober. It’s evil, is what it is.”
“Did he hit you again?”
A long silence, and then, “Yeah. Just the one time, though, so I didn’t tell Mom. Not like any cop is gonna come out for that, anyway. You know? They’re gonna look at me and wonder why such a big guy can’t take a little smacking around.”
“Did you tell him to stop?”
“Yeah. Much good that did. He laughed.” Miguel choked on the hate. “The bully laughed at me when I told him to leave me alone.”
“Oh, Miguel! I wish—if Mom didn’t need me I’d walk to your house.”
“I know.” The longing in his voice wrenched my heart, and all I wanted was the chance to hold him while he cried.
After we said good-bye, I found my cross, put it on and made a fist around it. “You helped me.” I traced the tiny rose with my thumbnail. “Now help Miguel. Don’t let him get hurt. Don’t let his dad get to him anymore.”
Mom stayed home the rest of the week, and when she could work, she went only for a few hours. Even that wore her out, and each afternoon I’d tiptoe into the apartment, listen to her breathe, and tell myself she wasn’t drunk.
By Friday she’d improved enough to work a full day and to drop Miguel and me at the street fair. “I’ll be here at nine,” she reminded me before she drove off.
I leaned into the window. “Bye, Mom. Thanks.”
I turned and let Miguel capture my hand with his large, warm fingers. I traced a familiar scar-ridge with my thumb. I only wanted to find someplace quiet and private, a place where we could become each other’s safety, each other’s world, a place where the cold of fear could never intrude.
“Where to?” Miguel asked.
“I’ve got all my babysitting money with me. I want to find the silver lady again. I’m going to buy a cross for Mom.”
“Gee, I wish you’d buy me some ice cream.” He dragged me in the direction of The Big Scoop.
“Later.” I pulled against him and even though he’s miles taller than me, he let me tow him through the crowds.
But we couldn’t find her. “Creepy,” I said. “She was creepy when we bought my cross, and now it’s even weirder.”
“I think she was an angel,” Miguel said. “She knew you needed a cross so she was here that day, just for you.”
“Then she ought to know Mom needs a cross.” I peered along the lines of stalls.
“Aidyn?”
I turned, met Toni’s glare. After I introduced her to Miguel as “Mom’s boss,” which told him all he needed to know of my opinion of her, she asked, “Where’s your mother? You didn’t leave her alone, did you?”
“She went to a meeting.”
Toni nodded. “I just hope you take better care of her from now on.”
After she’d stalked past us, Miguel made faces at her back. “She’s crazy. You’re not the mother. It’s not your job to look after anybody.”
I wondered, though. Things went so much smoother when I took control.
He poked me. “I want my ice cream now. You promised.”
“One scoop.” But I let him choose two and extra toppings.
As we came out of the shop, Miguel hollered, “Hey, Jackson!” He whooped, waved his cone like a lasso, and loped across the street.
I followed him. Jackson had stopped, but something about the way he looked at Miguel, and about the way he let Shannon hang on his arm, made me wonder exactly how glad he’d been to hear Miguel call him.
“I didn’t know you guys were coming here,” Miguel said. “Now we got someone to hang out with.”
“For a while, I guess,” Jackson said. “Where you guys headed?”
“Nowhere,” I told him, as Miguel said, “Wherever you’re going.”
Shannon giggled, tugged on Jackson’s arm, and whispered something. He made a face and that was when I noticed the smudges next to his mouth, which matched Shannon’s wiped-off-looking lipstick.
“Let’s go in here.” I spun Miguel into a Chinese restaurant and watched Jackson and Shannon hesitate then wander off.
“What was that all about?” Miguel demanded. “What’s wrong with spending time with friends?”
“They wanted to be alone.”
“How do you know?”
“Did they follow us in here?” I asked, just as a waiter bounded up brandishing menus.
“Table for two?”
“No.” Miguel glared at me. “Not unless you have some sort of special for crazy people.”
The waiter had been so eager to seat us he probably would have promised a straitjacket if it came with egg rolls, but we scurried out.
“I don’t get you, Aidyn.” Miguel stomped beside me, fists in his pockets, not even trying to hold my hand.
Our first fight, and it wasn’t even about us. I stomped away.
“Aidyn, wait up.”
I stopped, embarrassed.
“I didn’t mean to make you mad. I just wanted to hang with them.”
“It’s their date, Miguel. We can’t just tag along.”
“Yeah, well, I thought we ought to save them from themselves, you know?”
“Why?” I peered at him in the growing dark. “They like each other, but it looks like you’re trying to break them up. Are you still trying to get Shannon to go out with you?”
“No! Aidyn, no. I just…they were…you know.”
“And you wanted to what, watch?”
“No.” He started to walk, but after a second he took my hand and held it close to his side. We wandered toward the park, found it overflowing with kids and walked even farther, to the empty bandstand. Miguel hitched himself up and reached a hand down for me. I huddled next to him, kicking my heels against the platform, wondering. Something skittered in the shadows behind us and I shivered.
“Are you cold?” Miguel leaned back, his arm stretched behind me, not touching.
With him so close? “No.” But maybe he wanted me to be cold.
“Aidyn?” he whispered, much closer than I’d thought. “What would you do—I mean, do you ever…” He took a deep breath, and the sweetness left over from the ice cream brushed my cheek. “Sometimes I start thinking I’m seeing you for the last time. Like, if there’s anything I want to tell you, I have to tell you now. Do you ever feel like that?”
I shook my head.
“Sometimes I get scared, Aidyn.”
“So do I.”
We turned at the same time, and his mouth feathered against my cheek, against my lips. He held my arm, his hand warm and solid, and kissed me again.
“Oh, Miguel.” I opened my eyes. I couldn’t see anyway so I took my glasses off. “Miguel, don’t be scared. Neither one of us is going away.”
He answered with a third kiss. A long time later I looked at my watch and yelped. Even though we ran to the other end of the street fair, we were half an hour late meeting Mom.
I went to sleep late that night, exhausted, exhilarated, in trouble for being late, and in the morning I woke up with the flu.
12
Until Sunday night I couldn’t think of anything other than how bad it hurt to throw up. Mom spent as much time checking on my sleep as I had on hers, and when I finally woke without aches and cramps, she came in and perched on the edge of my bed.
“You’re looking better.” She swept the hair from my forehead. “I brought some fresh tea.”
I moaned and turned away.
“I know. I didn’t want to put anything in my stomach, either.”
She left and came back a few minutes later with a red rosebud in her best crystal vase. I gasped as she set it on my desk. “It’s perfect.” Roses, even one tiny bud, cost so much in November. “Did Miguel bring it?”
“No.” Mom crawled onto the end of my bed and sat cross legged close to my feet. “I asked Toni to bring it for you. She just left.”
“Oh, OK. It’s beautiful.” I tried to smile. “Thanks, Mom.”
She stared at her hands, and I realized I hadn’t been very gracious. “Mom, I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t like it because you gave it to me.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“You didn’t, baby. There’s something else.” Her silence scared me. She covered my knee and massaged it through my blankets. Even without my glasses, I realized how bad she looked, like she had the flu herself all over again, or like she’d just stopped drinking.
My stomach cramped again. “What’s wrong?”
“Jackson called. We weren’t at Mass, and he wanted to know if”—she swallowed—”if you had talked to
Miguel’s mother.”
I sat up, the room circling around me. “Mom!”
“Baby, lie down. I won’t tell you if you don’t promise to stay put.”
“Mom,” I wailed. But I could tell she meant it. “All right. I promise.”
“Miguel is in the hospital. He’ll be all right, but right now he’s pretty bad.”
“The flu?”
“No.” She shook her head and went back to massaging my knee, as if that could take the pain from my heart. “When we dropped him off Friday night, his father—”
“He hit him.”
Mom shook her head. “Worse than that. He tried to defend himself, but Jackson said he used something—lumber or something. His mother called the police, and that’s when his dad went crazy. He went after her, too.”
I sobbed, and Mom rocked me, her words like a blanket of horror smothering my thoughts.
“They’ve kept him in the hospital because there was some internal bleeding. Aidyn—”
“I want to go see him.”
“Not ‘til you’re better.”
“He won’t know why I’m not there!”
“Jackson told him. He said Miguel looks really bad. They were glad you couldn’t see him yet.”
“But I have to—”
“You will.” I felt Mom shake as she held me. “Aidyn, his dad was drunk. And I think—I think, that could have been me and you. I could have hurt you that bad. I have hurt you that bad.” She rocked harder, and I felt her tears in my hair.
“I hope his dad is in jail this time.”
“They haven’t found him yet.”
“I want to see Miguel now.” I would not let his fears come true.
“You will, baby, just as soon as you can.”
Mom took me two days later. He looked worse than my nightmares. At least in my dreams, I could still see his eyes. He still had his smile. Now he wore bruises and stitches in equal glory, scabs bunching on his face like pus. One eye had swollen shut, and he couldn’t seem to focus the other.
Jackson said, “Hey, buddy, I brought the girl.”
Miguel raised his hand, the one not attached to tubes, an inch off the white sheet.
A Fistful of God Page 10
