Overlooked

by Lulu Pratt

  “You don’t live here anymore, remember?”

  “I know, but…”

  The door opens wide, and her mother stands in the doorframe, her mouth wide open.

  “Who is it, Carol?” a voice asks from down the hallway.

  “Hi, Dad,” Emily shouts.

  “Emily,” he says, rushing to the door.

  Her mother smiles and steps aside, saying, “Come in, come in. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Emily goes through the door, and I take a step to follow her.

  “You’re not welcome in this house,” her father says, pointing at me.

  “In that case, neither am I,” Emily says, reaching for my hand.

  “Greg, you said you wouldn’t be like this if she came back. Remember?” her mother says, her voice a hiss.

  “Emily wanted to meet on neutral ground, but I insisted her parents would be nice to her if she came here. Maybe I was wrong?” I say, cocking my head at her father.

  “Of course, come in. I’ll make coffee,” her mother says. She turns to me and asks, “Do you drink coffee?”

  What am I? An alien?

  “Yes, coffee sounds good to me,” I say.

  I follow the three of them into the house, Emily leading me by the hand. Damn, I knew her parents were rich, but this house is something else. It looks like it’s from the pages of a fancy magazine. The rooms are enormous, and all the furniture looks like it was made for a palace.

  We enter into a bright room, with a huge kitchen at one end, dining table in the far corner, and a sofa area near us. Her mother goes straight to the kitchen area and begins making coffee. I follow Emily and her father to the breakfast table.

  As soon as the three of us are sitting down, her father asks, “Where have you been all this time?”

  “In the carnival,” Emily says.

  Greg sucks air through his nose, and I prepare for his reaction.

  After a few breaths, he asks, “What’s the matter, the carnival’s finished for the winter, so you’ve come looking for a free place to stay, or have you come to your senses?”

  “Neither,” Emily says.

  “Greg!” Carol exclaims from the kitchen.

  “Neither? You’re just passing through town?” Greg asks. I hope I’m imagining the hopefulness in his voice.

  “It’s certainly sounding like you hope that’s all we’re doing,” Emily says.

  There’s a crash in the kitchen area, and Carol rushes to the table.

  “Honey, Emily, you just ignore him. All that matters is you’re home and you’re safe,” she says, draping her arms around Emily from behind her chair.

  “Mom, sit down. I have to say this and get it out of the way, and you guys can freak all you want. Steel and I got married,” Carol gasps and covers her mouth. “And we’re having a baby.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Greg says.

  “Greg, watch your language,” Carol says, her voice breaking. The coffee is forgotten, along with the shattered mug, and she sits at the table.

  “How could you let this happen?” Greg asks Emily.

  “Look, it wasn’t planned, or nothing,” I say.

  “At least you did the honest thing, and got married. Even though I didn’t get to be at my baby’s wedding,” Carol says, unable to control her tears.

  “We got married before it happened,” Emily says, her voice calm.

  “You what?” Carol says, wiping her cheeks.

  “We got married in July,” I say, sitting straight.

  “Where? In Las Vegas?” Greg asks.

  “No, in the carnival,” Emily says.

  “The carnival? What kind of marriage is that?” Greg says.

  “It’s carny tradition,” Emily says.

  “So you’re not really married,” Greg says.

  “As far as I’m concerned, we are. But we also plan to make it legal,” I say.

  When we make it legal, I’ll be able to get a good job, and support them.

  Home Sweet Home (Emily)

  “We don’t want a big wedding, just to go and sign the papers,” I say.

  I always thought I’d wanted a big wedding, but now it doesn’t even matter at all. Steel and I have already had my wedding, now it’s only about the paperwork.

  “Whenever you want, Emily. I’m just happy to have you back,” my mom says. She reaches across the table and pats my hand.

  “Thanks, Mom. I was really worried you’d never forgive me. But Steel said you would. He said it was important for me to have your help and support when the baby comes, and that he wants the baby to know its family,” I say, blurting out everything that’s been balled up in me.

  “Coming back was Steel’s idea?” she says, her brow creased.

  “Do we have to call him Steel?” my dad says into the air.

  “You can call me Kayden if you want, but I can’t guarantee I’ll realize you’re talking to me,” Steel says.

  Kayden. I don’t think I could ever get used to calling him that. But I like it, it’s a good name. A strong name, just like him.

  “And, Kayden, you don’t have a job yet? To care for my grandchild?” my dad asks.

  “Not yet, we only got here this afternoon,” Steel says.

  “Where are you staying, Emily?” my mom asks.

  “At a motel in Woburn. We’re still deciding which town to move to permanently,” I say.

  “You should stay here with us while you’re figuring things out. There’s no point wasting your money on a hotel,” my mom says.

  I look straight at my dad, and say, “I didn’t think we’d be welcome here.”

  “Greg,” my mother says in her sternest voice, “they’d be welcome here, wouldn’t they?”

  My fingers are laced through Steel’s, and I examine them. My hand is rough from the months spent putting up and taking down Cess’ booth. I used to always have long nails, polished during my regular manicures. Now my nails are jagged. Even after finishing the carnival a week ago, a layer of dirt is still stuck underneath them.

  “I said, wouldn’t they, Greg,” my mother repeats.

  I don’t know what to say now. I’m not even sure what to say if my father invites us. Would Steel want to stay here? Would I?

  “I’m not sure we know enough about Kayden to welcome him into our house,” my father says.

  My mother lowers her voice, and leans into my father, but I can still hear her say, “What do you mean, he’s the father of our grandchild.”

  “What do you want to know, Dad? I’m not saying we want to stay here anyway, but whatever it is you want to know, you go ahead and ask.”

  My father clears his throat, and says, “For starters, Kayden, why do you have a neck tattoo? Are you in a gang?”

  Steel screws up his face, and says, “No, I ain’t in a gang. I’m from the carnival.”

  “Then why?” my dad asks.

  “Come on, Dad, get with the times. Lots of people have neck tattoos now,” I say.

  “Not ones with decent jobs,” my dad says.

  “Sure they do. But it doesn’t matter anyway, because you’ve answered my question — we wouldn’t be welcome here.”

  “Anyway, Kayden,” my father says, ignoring me, “What type of job are you looking for?”

  “I’m good with my hands, strong, and work hard. I’m not too worried about finding something,” Steel says, gripping my hand tightly.

  “Funny, I hear that a lot in hiring, and it always ends up to be the opposite,” my dad says.

  “I’ve held down the same job for ten years, I worked my way up to ride foreman. Ain’t no way Papa Smurf would’ve kept me around if I wasn’t a hard worker,” Steel says. There’s fire in his voice and he squeezes my hand tighter still.

  My dad laughs. “Papa Smurf?” he says, scoffing.

  “He’s the carnival owner,” I say.

  “And he’s a real hard-ass to work for. If I can last with him, I can survive anywhere.”

  “So you’re prepared to wor
k and provide for this baby?”

  “Of course I am, I already said that,” Steel says.

  “I know you said it, but do you mean it?” my dad says, raising his voice.

  “I’m here ain’t I? I would’ve stayed with the carnival if I wasn’t serious.” Steel turns to me, and says, “Maybe we should’ve raised the baby in the carnival, we’d get less shit there.”

  I flinch at his words, and my mother whimpers.

  “You know you don’t mean that,” I say, my voice strained. I glare at my father. “I already told you, Dad, it was Steel’s idea to come here. Remember?”

  No one says anything. All of the air in the room hangs with the tension. My heart is speeding in my chest, but I refuse to let my father get to me.

  Finally, my mother breaks the silence and says, “Emily, you and Kayden are welcome in my house anytime. If you say he’s a good man, I trust your judgment.”

  I look at Steel and catch his eyes. Blinking back tears, I say, “He is a good man. The best.”

  My mother’s never seemed to trust my judgment at anything I’ve ever done. Maybe she’s finally accepted that I’m grown up. And not an idiot.

  “I’ll tell you what. Just to make my daughter happy,“ my father says, his eyes burning into me, “You come down to the dealership in Woburn tomorrow, if you’re a hard worker, like you say you are, I’ll find something for you.”

  Steel glances at me, his mouth a tight line, and says, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “What? I’ve just sat here and offered you a job, and you’re turning it down? You just said you were hard working,” my dad says.

  “I can find something myself,” Steel says. His leg jiggles under the table, and I can see the tension in his neck.

  “Unbelievable, Carol,” my dad says, looking at my mom and shaking his head.

  “Dad,” I say, widening my eyes.

  He looks at Steel, tilts his head, and says, “You could at least take it until you find something else.”

  Steel doesn’t respond, and my breathing stops, waiting for something to happen.

  “Goldie, can I talk to you for a minute?” Steel asks, his voice pleading.

  “Okay,” I say, my brow furrowed.

  I stand, and lead him by the hand to the den. The room is far away from the breakfast area, but I shut the door anyway.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  Steel’s breathing is fast, he closes his eyes and says, “I don’t got no social security number.”

  “So, we can apply for one, it’s no big deal. My father doesn’t have to know you were paid cash all these years.”

  “No, Goldie. You don’t understand.” He turns and walks to the window, staring out at the vast lawn.

  His actions, with both my father and now, have my insides filled with butterflies. I wait for him to tell me what’s going on. But he doesn’t say anything.

  “Are you going to tell me why, so I do understand?”

  He spins back, his eyes sunken but his stance strong.

  “I’m going to tell you, because you’re my wife, and deserve to know. But I don’t know what to do about telling your parents.”

  “I don’t understand. Oh my God, are you an ex-con?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “But are you one?”

  “Listen to me, I can’t get a social security card because I don’t have a Green Card.”

  “Green Card? Those are for foreigners.”

  This makes no sense.

  Symphony of Destruction (Steel)

  “You know I said I’m from Niagara Falls?”

  “Yeah,” Emily says, her brow still creased.

  Why the fuck didn’t I tell her this from the day I met her? And now, how am I supposed to explain lying to her all this time?

  “Steel, what’s going on?”

  “I’m from the Canadian side.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” Emily barks. She almost never swears. Not the f-bomb anyway.

  “I’m Canadian. I’m not American.”

  “All those times I asked you what state you were from, and you didn’t tell me you weren’t even from the country? Why?”

  “Dunno.” Emily’s face turns from confusion to anger, so I continue. “I mean, I do know. I told someone before. We hooked up for a bit, and when things didn’t go the way she wanted them to, she tried to get me deported. She told the law everything she knew about me, and she didn’t make me sound too good, you know? I spent the rest of the summer, hiding and shitting myself with the Mexican carnies whenever immigration enforcement officers came nosing around. It’s a horrible way to live.”

  “I can imagine, I’ve seen those raids, remember? But why not tell me? Especially when you proposed.”

  “I don’t have an answer for that. All I’ve ever wanted to do is leave my past behind, all that matters to me is my future with you.”

  Emily’s mouth is a tight line, and she crosses her arms in front of her. I draw her into me, her arms between our bodies. The comfortable feeling of having Emily in my arms calms me.

  “I love you,” I say into her ear.

  After a minute, Emily’s breathing slows and she unfolds her arms, sliding them up my back.

  “I can’t be mad at you for being Canadian, that’s just weird. But I’m still pissed about the lie.”

  “I know, you have every right to be.”

  “But I’m not pissed enough to end this, to kick out the father of my child.”

  “And your husband,” I add.

  “If we weren’t here, in my parents’ house, I’d be screaming and yelling at you right now.”

  “Guess this was a good time to tell you, then.”

  “Dick,” she snaps.

  “Sorry,” I say, giving her a squeeze.

  “Not sorry enough.” Emily tries to pull away from me, but I don’t let go.

  “What are we going to do about this job your dad wants me to do. In the morning.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know what we’re supposed to do about any job.”

  “There are lots of cash jobs for muscle.”

  Emily pushes back from me, the anger back in her eyes, and says, “Yeah, but that’s not exactly the kind of financially secure job you want with a baby, is it? Was that really your plan, to do illegal jobs forever?”

  “No, that wasn’t my plan. All we have to do is get married, and then I can get a Green Card. It’s easy.” I hope. I didn’t really have a plan.

  “So that’s what we’ll tell my parents.”

  “How will they react?” I ask.

  “My dad will understand.”

  “No offense, he isn’t really the understanding type. I don’t want him to have me deported,” I say, ruffling my hair.

  “If he does, I’m going with you.”

  Emily’s words relax me, and I realize everything is going to be okay. She’s what matters, our baby is what matters, everything else is just details.

  “Might as well get this over with, then,” I say and take her hands.

  We walk back to the kitchen. Her parents are talking in hushed tones, but stop as soon as they notice us.

  “So, what is it, Kayden? Are you going to man up and come to work in the morning?” Greg says.

  Emily laces her hand through mine and says, “Daddy, Steel is Canadian, he doesn’t have a social security number.”

  Greg leans back in his chair, and his arms fall to his sides.

  “What does that mean?” Carol asks.

  “It’s means he’s here illegally,” Greg says.

  “Illegally? Emily, did you know about this?” Carol asks.

  “Yes,” Emily says, and my chest bursts.

  “I oughta have you deported.”

  “Then I’d go with him. With the baby.”

  “You can’t do that, Greg. There’s no reason for that,” Carol says, her eyes narrowed.

  I can tell Greg thinks getting me away from his daughter is the best reas
on there is. He’d better realize how serious Emily is about leaving with me

  “It’s fine, Dad, when we get married, Steel will be able to get a Green Card.”

  “I’m not sure it’s that easy. Have you looked into it?” Greg asks.

  Emily looks at me and cocks her head.

  “Not yet,” I answer.

  “Well, at least I know you’re not marrying her just to make your stay legal,” Greg says.

  “I’ve been in the country ten years, that’s definitely not the reason,” I say.

  “Ten years,” Greg says, his teeth gritted.

  “Can’t you do anything to help them? You must know someone,” Carol says.

  Greg blows the air out of his mouth and thinks. At least it doesn’t seem like he’s going to deport me.

  “You two have sure come in here and dropped a ton of bombshells today,” Greg says.

  “We didn’t have to come here at all,” Emily says.

  “We came because it’s important for the baby to have family, and for Emily to have support,” I say, repeating myself.

  After a moment, Greg says, “Let me phone Rob. He’s an immigration lawyer I know from the Lions Club.”

  “Thank you,” Carol says.

  The three of us watch while Greg takes out his cell phone and scrolls through his contacts. He pushes dial, and moves to stand. Carol grabs his arm, and drags him back into his chair.

  “Hey, Rob,” Greg says.

  The three of us listen to his description of the problem, and watch his face fall as he listens to the answer.

  “Can I put you on speaker phone? They’re here, and it’d be good if you can tell them,” Greg asks.

  He puts the phone on speaker and sets it in the middle of the table.

  “Hi, Rob,” Emily says.

  “Hello,” Rob says.

  “So, you were saying?” Greg says.

  “Yes, Emily, you have to apply for a K-1 visa. Kayden, you can’t be in the country when she applies, and won’t be able to visit the country until it’s granted.”

  “How long does that take?” I ask.

  “Months. Six if you’re lucky, most likely longer,” Rob says.

  It’s a blow to my stomach. How the hell are we going to do that? I’d miss seeing her belly grow with my baby. Worst of all, would I even be able to get back in time for the birth?

  “What if we go get married now in Vegas?” I ask.