Just Jada

by Anna Cove

  "That's wonderful. Do you enjoy the program Amalia?"

  Amalia nodded.

  Good girl. "It's for girls who need a mentor."

  "Ah, then Amalia's lucky to have you as a mentor, Dr. Garcia. Right, little one?"

  "It's the best part of my week," I slipped in before Amalia could say a thing. She had never met me before today, and wouldn't know about my monetary contributions.

  Dr. McNabb nodded and returned his attention to Amalia. I rolled my eyes when he wasn't looking. Unfortunately, Mrs. McNabb appeared and caught my gesture.

  She smiled wryly and threw me a couple of towels, then she knelt next to Amalia and set to work cleaning her up.

  I wiped at the front of my shirt, but it was a loss. And dabbing at it only made me remember what had actually happened. In vivid detail. The image twisted my stomach.

  "Crickets are the solution to the world's hunger problems."

  "Amalia," I said sharply, nauseated. "Let's change the subject."

  "You know..." Dr. McNabb rubbed his chin. "I think I remember reading something in the Times about that. If anyone can do it, I'm sure it'll be you."

  Amalia beamed, her eyes no longer watering. When Dr. McNabb wasn't looking, she stuck out her tongue at me.

  This was not going well. If I wanted him to see I was truly in this, I would have to bring it to the next level. I stood and walked toward the stairs, away from Dr. McNabb and Amalia. Then I sent a text to Laura Gonzalez and told her to come to Dr. McNabb's house to pick up Amalia. A half an hour passed in which Amalia chatted the doctor's ear off—quiet, huh?—and I didn't get a word in edgewise. A half an hour where I also didn't get a shower.

  When the doorbell rang, I almost ran to the door and answered it myself.

  I let them get through the pity and all that shit. We were about to say goodbye, Laura watching me warily the whole time, when I finally said something. "Before you go..."

  "I really should get her home to her Mom's," Laura said.

  "It'll just take a second." I placed a hand on Laura's arm. "I want to start applying my research—grant or not. I want to work with you to develop a program to help girls like Amalia."

  "That sounds amazing." Laura's eyebrow rose into her bangs.

  I didn't care how it sounded to her. McNabb was my target, and he was eating it up.

  "You've already got a lot of the structure in place. But my research will help you figure out the most effective path forward for the organization."

  "I like it," Laura said, her eyebrows raised. But she was too tentative. Too, I don't know, lukewarm. Dr. McNabb's expression mirrored hers. Laura nodded. "Let's start increasing your hours so you can get to know the organization a little better."

  That sounded—terrible. Horrible. "Great."

  "We've got a fundraiser coming up in a couple weeks and we could really use someone to take charge of the decorations."

  "Absolutely." Shit. Shit. Shit. What was I saying? I didn't have time for that.

  Dr. McNabb's eyebrows raised. "That's very generous of you."

  "It's the least I can do. I know what it's like to grow up in this world as a young Latina woman, and I know how to make it work. I want to share my experience."

  Dr. McNabb nodded, and I knew I'd hooked him. Now, the last thing I had to do was reel him in.

  ...

  ERIKA

  Sundays were the best day of the week. Lazy mornings followed by afternoons at the soup kitchen. This Sunday, Dad felt well enough to come with me. So this Sunday, my life was about as good as it could possibly get. Dad, talking with the people who came through the line, the prospect of a job ahead of me, of my work being recognized.

  Plus the memory of Jada's lips on mine.

  Oh, man. Truthfully, that was doing me in a bit. I didn't know if she was my friend or a prospective lover, but I tried to give it up to the universe. Whatever happened, happened.

  Still, my smile felt extra easy as I doled out food and chatted with the regulars who came through. I told jokes when I could, laughed at theirs no matter how stupid, and sometimes, I just smiled.

  "Need a break?" came a growling voice behind me.

  "I'm good, thanks, Sal. I could do this forever."

  Sal ran the soup kitchen with military precision and a touch of good humor. He poked his head over my shoulder and looked me in the face. "What's gotten into you?" he asked.

  "I was nominated for a prize," I said. "A big one."

  "You deserve it, sweetie." He squeezed my shoulders and let go. "You're one of the best goddamn people I know."

  "You're bringing a tear to my eye."

  "Seriously," he said, heading back into the kitchen. "Ask anyone."

  He hadn't taken a poll with Meredith. I'm sure she wouldn't have thought I was the best. In fact, I'm sure she would have had some choice words for me. I felt a little bad about how I'd tricked her. I should have just been straight with her from the start.

  Meredith, I need to end this. It's not good for either of us.

  She had been jealous, no downright possessive, when she'd seen me with Jada, which was amazing to see. Did that mean she really did care? Or had she just wanted no one else to have me?

  "Hey, how about some service around here?" A teenager's face smirked back at me.

  I scooped and plopped them on his tray. "Hey, Jimmy. How's it going?"

  "It's going. How are you?"

  "So good," I said.

  Jimmy had gauges in his ears and wore a chain at his waist, but he was a puppy on the inside.

  He waggled his eyebrows. "Really?" he said, suggestively.

  "Yes."

  "Do you mind telling me what's so good?"

  "Nope."

  "Please."

  "Nope. You're holding up the line."

  "They don't care. Do you care Marty? No? Good. Now back to me. I have a problem."

  I chuckled at him. He was so charming. If his parents weren't such losers, he would have been captain of the swim team and a straight A student at school. "What's your problem? Make it quick. And step aside so I can serve the others."

  He stepped back, holding his tray of food. "There's this girl I like."

  "Hannah?"

  "No, no, she's long gone. It's another girl. Jenny."

  "Jenny and Jimmy. I like the sound of that."

  "Yeah, well, she doesn't like the sound of it all that much. I asked her to prom. I've tried everything. I've left notes in her locker. I've teased her. I've even asked her out in person, but she keeps saying no."

  "So you might just want to give up at this point."

  "Thing is..." He paused while I scooped potatoes and beans to the next person in line. "Thing is... I know she likes me. I've heard it through the grapevine. I didn't even notice her before someone told me she liked me. Now I can't stop thinking about her."

  "I know how you feel." A woman with a walker was taking her sweet time getting to me. I threw her a smile and turned to Jimmy. "You know, I'm not one for games, but you should back off a little. Let her come to you. Pretend she doesn't exist."

  "What if someone else asks her?"

  "I know. It's hard. I've been there."

  "And how did it work out for you?"

  The ghost of a spark from Jada's lips lingered on mine. I could still taste her, sweet and bitter like wine. I shook my head to make the image go away. "It'll all end up like it's supposed to. Maybe you're supposed to bring someone else."

  "There you go."

  "What?"

  "I should've known you'd be spouting that woo woo bull."

  "You sound like someone I know," I said, feeling unbidden heat come to my cheeks.

  Jimmy cut in front of the woman with the walker, leaning over the table toward me. "Someone awesome."

  "Yes, now get out of here and eat your food before we close."

  Jimmy smiled, backing off, while I served the woman. Before I could ask him to help her, he stepped forward, taking her tray and bowing to her with impress
ive chivalry, before sending me a wink and shuffling along with her, mimicking her posture with hilarious accuracy. He was terrible.

  "You're a godsend for that kid," Sal whispered.

  I jumped. "Sal, you scared me. I'm just doing what I can here."

  "Well it's damned good. Damn good." I didn't think I could feel better that day, but with that comment, I did. How could I go higher than this? How could it get any better? I couldn't imagine that even winning the Calver would be better. In fact, it would probably complicate things. What would I do with all that money?

  The rest of the afternoon passed quickly and smoothly. Dad chatted and laughed, looking better than he had in months. Sal had to leave for an appointment, so I cleaned alone, Dad entertaining me with stories from a stool. Halfway through, his friend Bob came in and offered him a ride home and he left.

  It took me forever to finish. Just as I was taking off my apron, Jimmy appeared.

  "Hey, you're just in time to help with precisely nothing," I said, hanging the apron on a hook.

  Jimmy grinned. "Then my mission is complete."

  I couldn't help but laugh when Jimmy was around. "I'm actually glad you didn't because I've been thinking about your problem..."

  "And?"

  "You're a writer, right? Well, what if, rather than ignore her, you do something completely over the top? What if you bake her a cake and ask her out on a date using the cake? She can't hold back then."

  "That's a great idea!"

  "Awesome. I'm glad you like it."

  "Only problem is... I have no idea how to bake."

  I glanced around the sparkling kitchen.

  We had the ingredients for a cake or two, and it would only take a couple of hours. Jimmy could use someone doing something for him. I made the decision right then. He deserved it. "Let's do it here. Right now."

  "Seriously?"

  "Seriously."

  "You look exhausted."

  "I feel a second wind coming on," I said.

  And truly, the energy did come to me, mostly through Jimmy. Together we trashed the kitchen while making a heart-shaped cake into which we baked one of Jimmy's poems. He had thought of it on the spot and written it on a sticky note. When we finished, Jimmy helped me clean the kitchen again.

  Once every surface was spotless except for us, Jimmy turned to me. "Mind if I take a selfie with you?"

  "Why?" And where had he found a camera when he could barely afford food?

  He shrugged. "Sal told me you're up for some prize. I want a picture in case you're famous someday. Plus, you really did me a solid today."

  I finished hanging up the apron and straightened my shirt. "I should be the one asking you for a picture. You're going to be a famous writer, after all."

  "Naw." Jimmy blushed.

  I shrugged. "Sure. I guess. Why not?"

  I pulled the elastic from my braid and unraveled it, letting my hair rest over my shoulders in waves. Jimmy pulled out a phone and I felt a rush of affection for this kid, for my life. I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff and I was about to go on the fastest and most thrilling ride ever. This is what I was thinking when Jimmy brought his face close to mine and took the picture.

  "I want a copy."

  "I'll email it to you. I know how dumb your phone is."

  I waved at him as he jogged out the door. A thought occurred to me, one that I hadn't let myself think since the finalists for the prize had been announced a couple of days ago. I did deserve to win this prize. I helped people, in my own way. As soon as I got home, I would take the first step to letting the Calver committee know what kind of person I really was.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JADA

  You'd think a place called Emerald Mountain Estates would be a secluded neighborhood, maybe a gated community. But that wasn't the case. In fact, the descriptive word dump would be generous. Trailers marred the overgrown landscape. Rusting chairs and grills and cars sunk into the ground. There was no evidence of anything nice—gardens, artwork... nothing.

  I'd already checked the road three times. My GPS kept bringing me back to the same place. Still, I hesitated, convinced I had the wrong address. Perhaps whoever was inside would be able to tell me where I'd gone wrong. I knocked on the door without further delay.

  An older man answered, or at least pulled open the door. He was too short of breath to say anything right away. He smiled whenever he drew in air. I could sense kindness even in the effort. "Jada?"

  "Yes, you must be Erika's father. It's lovely to meet you."

  "Charmed." He lurched backward and gestured into the house. "Erika's... waiting... for... you."

  It was even smaller inside than it looked from the outside. I could see every room from the doorway, the kitchen to my right, the living room to my left. Half the living room was turned into a makeshift bedroom. The only other rooms were a bathroom, and what looked like another bedroom along the back.

  A folding door for the bedroom squeaked open and Erika emerged, radiant and untouched by her surroundings. "You're early!"

  "No traffic," I said. My hands wrapped around my elbows. Why was I doing this again? Right, the Calver. After I'd spent time during the week with Amalia (she wasn't so bad after all) and trying to drum up new business, I figured I'd better get back to this part of my plan. Project Erika. So here I was.

  "I'm almost finished getting ready. Come in, come in."

  This place was suffocating. My eyes darted around like a bear would come out of the walls at any minute. It was okay, I told myself. I'd been in worse. But I really hadn't. The trailer hadn't been updated since 1980, possibly when it was built, and there was a stuffiness to it.

  Smile. I squeezed my way around the recliner where Erika's father wheezed alarmingly and edged into Erika's room. She closed the door behind me.

  "I'm sorry for the mess." She tucked her hair behind her ear. It was down and hung in natural waves.

  "Oh, it's nothing." I waved my hand, but my voice sounded pinched, even in my own ears. I had to relax.

  "I didn't think you'd come in."

  "But here I am," I said, a smile straining my lips.

  Erika frowned as she turned to the mirror, rubbing lotion into her face. I was not doing a good job hiding how I felt, but this was so far out of my element—so far. Was it worth it? I sat on her bed, the only place to sit in the room, and looked around me.

  The walls were packed with posters. I recognized one as an original Lilith Fair poster from 1997. "Wow, where did you get that? Did you go?"

  Erika turned to the poster, a sigh escaping before she spoke. "Yeah, I went to the one in Wantagh. My Mom took me. It was right before she left."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. Did you go?"

  "Wanted to, but never got the chance." My father had thought those sorts of things frivolous. I reached across the bed and picked up a framed picture of a gorgeous woman. "Is this your mother?"

  "Yeah." Erika turned around holding a brush to her chest. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

  "She looks like you," I said, my words lower than I meant for them to be.

  Erika turned back to the mirror, probably to avoid me seeing the pink that came into her face. Of course, she was in front of a mirror so I could see everything. Including her lowered eyelids. Her parted lips.

  My body echoed her heat in the same places. It was odd, how even Erika's embarrassment could produce this in me. I tensed. "Where is she, anyway?"

  "I don't know. The last time I spoke with her she was in... Utah? Somewhere with her new family."

  "I know what that's like."

  "Oh yeah?"

  "Yeah, my mom's been traveling the world for the past year. I've barely spoken to her for more than five minutes at a time."

  Erika placed the brush on her bureau and slid onto the bed next to me. "Are you close with her?"

  "I thought so before this trip."

  "I was never close with my Mom, especially after she left us. But I suppose I nev
er really had the chance. Now she's got a new family and new daughters. I have sisters and I've never even met them."

  "Sisters are wonderful."

  "You have some?"

  "One. A half sister. We grew up together with my mom." It was more than I'd wanted to tell her. It was more than I'd told just about anyone in my life. Erika's mouth pulled up in a half-grin.

  "Why don't we go," I said, sitting up straight. "We've got a lot of ground to cover."

  Erika drew in a sharp breath and sat up straight. "You've got it, boss."

  I followed her out of the room, my eyes following the sway of her hips. Was I really attracted to her? Faking it 'til I made it sort of thing? Could I be? I had kissed girls in college when I was drunk—I went to Smith and that's what we did—but I had always thought I'd liked men. There was something special about Erika Jones, though. Something that made me want to watch her, to be around her more. If I could learn what that was, maybe I could use it in my own interactions with the committee.

  "We'll be in the woods nearby, Dad," she said. "Call me on my cell if you need anything."

  "Be good," he said.

  I turned and mustered a grin and we were off. As soon as we left the stuffiness of the trailer and headed toward the woods, I felt better. I'd known Erika was not wealthy, but I hadn't realized she was quite so poorly off. And her father... What was going on with him?

  That's not your concern, I heard my father's voice in my head. That couldn't be my focus. I had to focus on winning the Calver and earning my trust fund back.

  Thankfully, Erika wasn't catching on to my mood. "So... a kid... this teenager at the local food pantry."

  "You volunteer at a food pantry?"

  "Yeah. Have for years."

  Great. Certainly the committee would find that out, and my recent participation with the Latina Achievement Program would pale in comparison. She told me a story about some kid who wanted a selfie with her but I just couldn't focus. I added mhms and uh-huhs whenever it seemed right. I even laughed at one point.

  When she finished, a silence came over us.

  "You having trouble at work?" She leaned over and picked up a tall walking stick.

  "No. Why?"