by J. M. Kelly
Chapter 17
By the time me and Nat get home from Forward Momentum, my head is pounding, my stomach’s knotted up with sharp pains, and the baby’s caught my mood. She’s whiny and irritable as I lift her out of the car, kicking at me with her little feet. All I want to do is hand her off to Amber and crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head. What should’ve been my secret to enjoy until I was ready to share it was stolen from me by the inept Ms. Spellerman.
I have no doubt how it went down. Ms. Spellerman was probably coming back from the front office after emptying her inbox and saw Amber. Because I’ve been bugging her, she remembered who I was and said, “Oh, Miss Robbins, I have your letter for you.”
Amber must’ve known she’d mixed us up but figured it would be easier to take whatever the woman had for me and hand it over later. But then Ms. Spellerman probably encouraged her to open it right there, thinking she could congratulate me or console me, however it worked out. And so Amber, always curious and thinking it really wouldn’t matter because we don’t have any secrets, opened my letter.
And that’s when I came around the corner.
I shake off the memory and do the usual routine: unload Nat and leave her in the kitchen, feed Bonehead, clean up his turds, and put him in the car for the night. My life seems to revolve around cleaning up shit these days.
There’s no one around in the house, so my dreams of pawning off Nat on my family dissolve. My stomach hurts so much, I swear there’s something eating me from the inside. In the kitchen, I have to hold on to the back of the chair and take long, slow, deep breaths until the pain eases. The television’s off and I assume Amber’s gone out because it’s only nine o’clock and she never goes to bed this early. Anger pulses through me. It’s almost cold enough in the house to see my breath, but I’m flushed and hot from the waves of pain. All day I’ve felt guilty, but right now my sister’s being such a bitch that I could shake her. No matter how bad she’s screwed up in the past, I’ve always listened to her, given her a chance to explain. She’s actually lucky she’s not around, because I want to throw something at her.
I take Natalie into the bedroom, which has been pitch-black ever since the night-light burned out. I flip on the floor lamp and stop and stare. Amber’s divided the room in half by hanging a blanket from the rafters—a couple of blankets, actually, and an old stained sheet I think belongs to Bonehead. She’s clearly trying to block off her bed so she doesn’t have to look at me. Since the room’s only the size of a single-car garage, it’s now shrunk considerably and feels even more claustrophobic than usual. My breathing goes all weird and shallow, and I have to set Natalie’s carrier down fast because I’m woozy. I sink onto my bed. Maybe I have the flu again. No—it’s a combo of being pissed and feeling guilty that’s making me so shaky.
“What the hell’s all this?” I ask. I know Amber’s behind the curtain, probably just lying there, but she doesn’t answer, so I yank one of the blankets down.
Sure enough, she jumps off her bed and grabs it from the floor. “Stop it. Go away.” I watch her struggle to hang it back up, and all the fight goes out of me. If she wants to be like this, I don’t even care.
“Whatever,” I say. “Let me know if you decide to grow up.”
She loses her balance and almost falls off her bed, but I don’t even reach out to steady her. I’m too tired to fix this now. I haven’t stopped moving since the minute I got up this morning, and the last thing I had to eat was my free lunch and a couple of bites of strained carrots when I was trying to convince Natalie how delicious they were by eating them myself.
“Watch the baby,” I say. Or maybe snarl. Either way, Amber doesn’t answer.
I go out into the kitchen and dig around for something to eat. All the stuff we bought back in January with Mom’s winnings is long gone, but I have hope the rest of my family isn’t as smart as me when it comes to hunting and gathering. Behind the pots and pans in the drawer under the oven, I find a hidden box of mac and cheese.
While the macaroni’s cooking, I get the last of the margarine and scrape off all the breadcrumbs and throw that bit in the garbage. We don’t have any milk, so I use water. Not the first time.
When the food’s ready, I take the pot and a fork out into the living room and plop my ass down on the floor in front of the space heater to eat my gourmet dinner. I haven’t heard a peep out of Amber and Natalie’s not crying or anything, so I pretend like I live here alone. It’s almost peaceful, and my stomach unclenches a little. I scarf the whole thing by myself, resting the pot in my lap for warmth.
Later, after I’ve brushed my teeth with water so cold that I swear there are little ice crystals in it, I go back to our room. Amber’s got the blankets hanging up again. Natalie’s asleep in her expired car seat and I lift her out, praying I don’t wake her. I put her in my bed between me and the wall so she won’t fall out, and I turn off the light. We’re afraid Nat will freeze to death in her crib, so lately we’ve been taking turns sleeping with her.
I know I should let it go for tonight, but I can’t. “Are we ever going to talk about it?”
Silence.
“You didn’t even let me explain.” Nat wiggles next to me, her body warm against my chest. “I only applied to see if I could get in. I wasn’t going to take off or anything. I want you to come with me.”
“To Kansas?” she finally asks, like I’ve suggested a trip to Iraq. “Why the hell would I want to go there?”
“I don’t know . . . I just . . . It’s a really good opportunity for me, and in four years—”
“What kind of an opportunity?”
That’s when I realize she doesn’t know about the automotive restoration course, that she thought I’d just randomly picked Kansas. Like anyone would do that. For the next ten minutes I tell her all about the program. The bedroom is dark and cold and she doesn’t say a word, but I can hear the excitement building in my voice and for the first time since I saw Amber with that letter, my stomach relaxes. I tell her how much I’ll learn, how I’ll never have to worry about a job or money again, how I could take care of us all. I give her the hard sell, and then I wait to see what she thinks.
“What about me?” she asks.
“What do you mean? I just said—”
“Yeah,” she says. “I heard you. I . . . I . . . I . . . But what about Aunt Ruby and the Glass Slipper? What about our apartment? What about our plans to buy a house together?”
My stomach tightens again as I try to explain. “Aunt Ruby isn’t even forty yet. She’s not gonna retire anytime soon. You could go with me, and in four years—”
“What? I’m supposed to go along to be the babysitter?”
“I thought you could maybe get a job. Or you could go to college too.”
“Yeah, right. I hate high school, so sign me up for four more years.”
“It’s not the same thing—”
“Forget it.”
“Come on, Am—”
“No,” she says. I hear a scuffling noise, and then the light comes on and she’s standing over me and I’m blinking up at her. Natalie squirms and whimpers next to me.
“Amber—”
“You lied to me. I know you took the SATs. I went back and asked Ms. Spellerman. She said you even took a class on Tuesday nights. All those times you said you were seeing David you were lying to me. And I was happy for you, excited you’d finally met a nice guy. But now, after that, I can’t trust you, Crys. I’m not leaving my family and moving to the middle of nowhere with you. If you won’t stick to our plan, then forget it. You’re on your own.”
“But—”
“Leave me alone. I’m going to sleep.”
I struggle to get up, but Natalie’s body is pressed against me, and she’s finally fallen asleep again—I really don’t want to wake her. Amber switches off the light and I decide to let her have the last word for tonight. But then I can’t help myself. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
; “No, we won’t.”
This time I keep my mouth shut. I lie there in the dark, telling myself I can fix this. Somehow I’ll make Amber realize I’m doing this for us. I cuddle our sweet baby close and something magical happens, like it always does when she’s in my arms. My body relaxes, the worries I carry all day melt a little, and this basic need to take care of Natalie and protect her wells up inside of me, like soothing warm water and some sort of longing combined. My mind shuts down and I sleep until she wakes me at five in the morning by tugging on my hair.
“Stop that.” I pry her little fingers out of my curls and drift off again. I know she’s awake next to me, but I’m so tired I can’t shake off sleep. Maybe she’ll lie there quietly for a while. “Go back to sleep. Please?”
At first she’s happy it’s a new day, and she lies there babbling, but after a while, because she’s a baby and she doesn’t care if I’m about to drop dead from exhaustion, she decides it’s time to get up. She wiggles around, squirming and kicking. Then she grabs my arm, digging her sharp little nails into the skin.
“Ouch!”
She’s probably hungry and undoubtedly wet, and I know I have to get up, but I just want five more minutes. When I don’t respond, she starts to whimper and kick me harder. It’s so cold in the room, I can’t face the day yet. I try again to cuddle her. But I know it’s a lost cause when she starts to scream.
“Okay, fine. I’m getting up.” I drag myself out from under the covers into the icy air.
There’s noise from Amber’s side of the room and then she bumps into me in the dark. “Where is she?” she asks. “I’ll take her.”
“Really?”
“I’m awake anyway.”
She lifts Natalie out of my bed and they go into the living room. As I settle back in for a couple more hours of sleep, I feel a huge sense of relief. Amber didn’t sound angry at all. She must’ve forgiven me.
Amber and Natalie are gone when I finally wake up. I’ve missed PE again. God, I hope I don’t flunk that course. How pathetic not to graduate because I failed sit-ups and running a mile in the rain. I don’t see Amber all day, but I figure she’s cooling off and thinking about everything, so I don’t try to find her. After school I zip over to Jimmy’s to get my paycheck so I can deposit it. Amber usually picks up Natalie on Fridays, but just in case, I plan to swing back by the daycare afterward and make sure.
There’s a huge line at the bank—it’s payday—and I have to wait for over half an hour. I don’t know if it’s all the tension in my life or what, but my feet hurt and my lower back aches. It’s like I’m a little old lady. Finally I get up to the counter and hand over my check, telling the woman how much cash I need back.
I have to fill the Mustang’s tank, pay our daycare fine, and buy some food. I asked Han at lunch to help me find a car seat. He’s the thrift store king, and he promised to score something ASAP, so I’ll need a little money for that, also. I made sure he knew to check for an expiration date.
When the teller hands me my receipt, I glance at the balance out of habit. I like to see our account growing. Except . . . it’s not. My insides plunge like I’m on one of those scary rides at Oaks Park. I’ve already taken a step away from the counter, but I stop and go back. “Excuse me?” I say. “Is this right?”
The teller looks at her computer and my slip and nods. “Yeah. Is there a problem?”
“I should have almost twice that much.”
I know what’s happened before she tilts the monitor toward me so I can see the screen, and all the pains in my body ratchet up.
“There was a withdrawal this morning,” she explains. “And then you made a deposit just now.”
I swear, my heart stops for what seems like forever. Amber’s removed half of our savings. It’s pretty clear she’s bailed on me the way she thinks I’ve bailed on her. Nothing could’ve prepared me for how much this would feel like being run over by a garbage truck. I grab the edge of the counter until the wooziness passes. What have I done to us?
Chapter 18
At the daycare, Mei-Zhen is surprised to see me. Not only did Amber pick up Nat an hour ago, but she paid the fine, too. I duck back out into the pouring rain. It’s only four thirty and the days are finally getting a little longer, but the sky’s so gray that it’s almost dark. When I pull into the driveway, Amber’s coming out the front door. She’s got Natalie strapped into the Snugli, and she’s pulling a pink rain poncho over them both. I hope Nat can breathe under there.
I slop through the mud that Bonehead’s churned up, making a wide arc to avoid him and his filthy paws. As always, he’s thrilled to see me. He probably thinks I’m gonna let him in the car. On the tiny porch, Amber’s struggling to open an old polka-dot umbrella of Mom’s.
“Where’re you going?” I yell over the pounding of the rain.
“Work.”
“Let me change and I’ll give you a ride.”
“No, thanks.” She steps around me.
“Amber, don’t be stupid. You’ll both get soaked and you’ll get sick again.”
“Germs make you sick,” she says, “not bad weather.”
“Well, you can still get a chill.”
She ignores me, heading for the sidewalk. I go after her, but then Bonehead gives his chain a desperate yank and pulls the stake right out of the soft ground. By the time I’ve caught him, unhooked the chain, and shoved him into the back seat, Amber’s a block and a half away. I catch up to her, slowing the car and rolling down the passenger side window.
“Get in,” I say. “You’ve made your point.”
She keeps walking, the wind tugging on the umbrella until it turns it inside out. Bonehead leans over the seat and sticks his head out the window, barking at her. I hear a wail come from under the poncho.
“Amber! Goddammit. Just get in the car!”
She’s at the bus stop now, and she steps into the shelter, throwing the useless umbrella on the ground. I’m in the no-parking zone, but I don’t give a damn. I’m about to get out and force her ass into the car when the bus comes barreling up behind me and the driver lays on his horn. I don’t have any choice but to step on the gas, and as I drive away, I glance in my rearview mirror and see my stupid, stubborn, soaking wet sister get on the bus. Fine. Whatever.
After work, I stop by the Glass Slipper, but Aunt Ruby says Amber and Natalie caught a ride with Jade. “I didn’t even know she had a car,” I say.
“New boyfriend,” Aunt Ruby says by way of explanation. “He’s even got a job.”
I hope he’s had a vasectomy, too. Otherwise, with Jade’s record, he’ll be a father in nine months.
When I get home, Gil’s cuddling Nat on the couch. “Where’s Amber?”
“Out with Jade.”
It’s never good news when Amber hangs out with our cousin. I watch TV with Gil, but the whole time I’m listening for a car. At one in the morning I give up, change Nat, and take her to bed with me again. It’s Amber’s turn, and the fact that she’s not here because of what I’ve done penetrates every tired, aching muscle with a sadness that follows me into my dreams.
I have the early shift on Saturday, which works out great because now Amber won’t have to take Nat to the Glass Slipper tonight. Bringing the baby is fine with Aunt Ruby, but neither of us really likes it. Natalie shouldn’t be hanging out in a tavern, even if she is too little to really know where she is. But we do what we gotta do.
By the time the Chevelle comes roaring into the lot at five minutes to three, I’m half frozen and more than ready to go home. “I’m out the door, Rosa.”
She nods, never taking her eyes off the cash register. “See you, Crys.”
David’s climbing out of his car when I get to mine. “Hey, College Girl. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Stanford Boy.” I haven’t seen him since I got my letter, but I was dying to tell someone who’d be happy for me, so yesterday I emailed him from the computer lab at school.
“Anything excitin
g happen today?” he asks.
Yesterday’s storm has blown out, leaving the weather sunny and breezy, and I lean against the Mustang, feeling the cold metal through my thin jacket. “Mmm . . . nothing much here at work. Amber’s still pissed, though.”
“She’ll get over it,” he says. “Once she figures out you’re doing it for all three of you.”
I told him in the email about Amber and Ms. Spellerman, too. Now I kind of regret being such a blabbermouth, but it’s nice to have someone on my side. “We’ll see,” I say. “You better get your ass inside before Rosa has a coronary. It’s another big lottery night.”
“Okay. Let’s do coffee. Soon.”
“Yeah, all right,” I say. But I laugh as I get into the car because seriously, who says “Let’s do coffee”?
At home, Han’s in the living room drinking a beer with Gil while Natalie naps in her playpen. She looks so sweet when she sleeps that I can almost forgive her for all those midnight feedings. Strewn around the living room are half a dozen Nordstrom shopping bags.
“What’s all this?” I ask.
“Sit down. You are about to be amazed.” Han’s grinning at me. He leads me over to the couch and hands me one of the bags. “Go ahead. Dig in.”
I lift out the cutest pair of green overalls in exactly Nat’s size. There’s a white turtleneck—sprinkled with pink and green flowers—to go with them. They look brand-new. “Wow. These are—”
“Keep going.” Han is hovering over me, holding another bag and practically dancing. Gil’s watching, his eyes sparkling in the light from the TV.
I set the overalls aside and pull out three more pairs—red, navy, and yellow. All of them have matching turtlenecks, too. “Han, this is incredible. Are they for Natalie? Where’d you get them?”
“There was an ad online for a bunch of baby stuff, and I called the lady about ten seconds after she posted it. She said she’d give it all to me as long as I picked it up today.”
