My poor grammy went from a three bedroom, two bath loft bungalow directly on the beach in a little town outside Miami, to a two bedroom, one bath house in Jamaica, New York.
That’s a lot to give up for a kid like me. A lot. A lot more than anyone else has ever given up.
When I reach the end of Ty’s driveway, I shove my right hand in my pocket and grasp my flip phone before pulling it out. After struggling through the keys and texting ‘I’m here’ I flip it closed and shove it back into my pocket before glancing up and down the street, looking for Lauryn and her black little Volkswagen Bug. When I don’t see any sign of her, I step forward off the sidewalk and closer to Ty’s house, and continue puffing on my smoke between sips of black coffee, waiting on my friends to show up.
From what I could gather about my mom from Grammy, which wasn’t much, Mom’s been struggling much more than she ever let on any time we spoke before all this happened. And all that time I’d spent waiting. Waiting on her, on her life, on her job that always seemed just on the damn horizon. All that bullshit was just glitter and rainbow dust she was blowing up my ass. Right along with the tooth fairy, and fucking Santa Claus. And that bitch-ass egg laying bunny.
Everything she’d told me was a lie. She was nowhere closer to getting her shit together enough for the State of New York to grant her joint—JOINT—custody over Eden, much less getting full custody of me back from the State of Chicago. Where she left me.
It’s funny how that fact never even dawned on me at nine, ten, or hell—fourteen. We were staying in Chicago when all this happened. Briefly, yes. And the original plan, I remember, was that we were still in the process of moving. I just didn’t know where to, really. ‘Cause I didn’t live there yet. But the bottom line is, Mom still moved. She still left. Even though she knew I would be stuck there. Without her.
It’s funny that at nine, it never entered my mind how shitty that was.
I knew, or I had resolved in my interim of time during my stint on the ugly side of New York’s Child Protection Services, that my entire life had been one big fat lie. I’d resolved it, dealt with it, and tucked it away. And while that seemed, at the time, the right thing to do, I’m worried now that things are seemingly beginning to feel normal, that I didn’t spend enough time on those feelings and emotions before tucking them away. And now? Well, now...I’m too happy to fuck with it.
When Ty steps off his front stoop, dressed to the nines as always, he cups his hand around his mouth before hollering, “Holla! Bae, say it. Say I look fine!” He beams before turning to showcase his latest design.
“Bae, of course you look fine. You’re Ty! Ty always looks FLY!” I laugh around blowing out the last drag of my cigarette and flick it in some bushes just as Lauryn’s little black Bug slides up along the curb next to Ty’s driveway.
Once I’ve called shotgun and Ty and I are piled into the car, we crank up the music and ride, making our way to school.
I met Lauryn and Ty on my first day at Robert H. Goddard High after me and Grams got settled into our place on Rau Street. They were both in my first hour class and we all get out early for the same DECA program, that allows us to work half days instead of staying in school and completing our electives. Which really helps out, especially with the bills and stuff, like—girly stuff—that Grams doesn’t think of as a necessity anymore. Make-up. Tampons. Razors. Have you ever lived with an older person? What—do they just stop growing hair? Everywhere? Or is it just my grammy?
I guess that’s one good thing about getting old.
“So…” When Lauryn looks over her shoulder at me from the driver’s side of the car, I furrow my brows and single my attention on her. My eyes narrow to points by the time she pulls into a parking spot at school, and when she turns around with that same mischievous grin on her face, I call her out.
“So…what? What’s that tone and look for, sister? I didn’t do anything.” After my bags are shouldered, I hook my arm around Ty’s and let him lead the way to class while I keep my attention on my devious friend. “Spit it out!” I yell when she just smirks instead of speaking.
“No, it’s not anything you did. It’s what you’re going to do. There’s a party this weekend.” When I see her begin to skip between her steps, I stop walking all together, and holding Ty with me, I plant my feet. And thankfully it doesn’t take him long to notice we’ve stopped. “L.” That’s what I call Lauryn by the way. That’s my nickname for her. “It’s gonna have to be some covert shit if you’re wanting me to attend a party. Grams won’t let me out of the house after the stunt we pulled the last time I spent the night with you. No. Way. In. Hell. And you threw me under the bus!” I remind her. And she did. I’ve never seen someone sing like a canary so damn fast. She didn’t even try to think of a story. Nope, she just blurted out our entire plan, while Ty and I just stood there with our mouths hanging wide open.
Was it my idea to sneak out and go to a club using some fake IDs, Joey, a kid in my AP Chemistry class made for us if I went out with him on a few dates? Yes. It was. As was it my idea for all of us to say we were staying at Lauryn’s, when in reality we were sneaking out and staying in a motel in Brooklyn with some other friends? Umm...yeah. But her parents didn’t need to know that! None of our parents did!
“Oh my God, you hold onto everything! Sheesh! Learn to let shit go! Okay, fine—don’t go,” she says as she now blatantly skips to her desk when we enter English, our first hour class. She finishes as she sits in the desk behind Ty’s and next to mine. “But when Brad asks who he’s supposed to dance with, because you’re not there, don’t be mad when I step in. Can’t hate a girl for trying…” Her words are left trailing off and I growl under my breath at her as I slide into my desk.
I couldn’t go even if I wanted to. I know what party she’s talking about; it’s the same party everyone’s been talking about. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not going. And who gives a crap about Brad? Brad can go blow a horse for all I care. Or Lauryn. L knows I’m not interested. No matter how interested he makes it known he is about me.
“I can’t anyway, L. I’ve got that thing this weekend with my mom. In Jersey, remember?” I whisper as the teacher begins speaking to the class.
When she remembers me telling her about the stupid shit Grammy and the State of New York are making me do next weekend, empathy crosses her face and her mouth makes an ‘O’. “Sorry, babe. I forgot. That’s this weekend?” she whines and I sadly smile before nodding.
I don’t talk about my mother or my sister much. Actually, I’m pretty sure Ty and Lauryn thought the only family I had was Grams until just a few weeks ago. I was pissed as hell when I found the letter on the kitchen table that night.
My eyes stung from the tears so bad, I couldn’t tell if it was the pain from them, or the pain in my heart when Grams walked in and found me crying around trying to finish reading the letter.
“She doesn’t even want me. She’s never wanted me, Grams. Why is she doing this now? I’m sixteen and a half. Can’t she just wait another eighteen months? She’s waited this long!” Okay—it was probably the pain. The pain and the hurt that accompanies being a daughter to someone who doesn’t want them. Hurts like something pretty fucking wicked, I can tell you that. And I can also tell you that I can’t fucking wait be eighteen. I can’t wait to be old enough in the eyes of society to not give a shit if I’m alone. Being an adult is awesome!
A child who’s alone looks pitiful. Pathetic.
But an adult who’s alone—well, that just looks like they prefer to be alone. Or they’re too badass for friends.
“I don’t know what your mother’s problem is, sweetie. I never could keep up with that wild one. I do know that her heart is usually in the right place. So, there’s that. Let’s just give it some time, Evie. Give her some time. Let her tell her side of the story. And besides, Eden’ll be there. You’ll get to see Eden.” She smiled at me, and I remember looking up at her from the very official-looking letter an
d smiling in return.
“She will?” I asked in a whisper, almost too afraid to hope, or wish. I may get to see my sister. Again. Soon!
My grams just continued to smile. And as she hobbled away, I heard her mutter, “God save us all, she will. That child’s the nearest to Ilsa as I’ve ever seen, I swear.”
“I’m sorry, Eves.” Lauryn’s voice pulls me from last Thursday. “Are you okay? I mean, you haven’t really talked about it—”
I slap a bright smile on my face as quickly as I can. “Of course I’m okay.” I nod in the direction of our English teacher, Mr. Brunson, just as he finishes quoting George Orwell’s Animal Farm, then quickly scribble a note, before passing it to her.
‘Hey L—don’t worry about it, really. I’m fine. Plus, you’ll get to meet my sister soon!!!’
After she’s read it, she looks up and nods before smiling, then mouths, “I know! So cool!” And not long after that, both of us are up to our eyeballs in English final notes.
It’s much easier to distract and be distracted these days. It’s much easier to dodge the limelight too, I’ve noticed. All you have to really do is keep your head down. And be polite. Smile when someone smiles at you. Wave if waved at—but that’s rare. And continue about your own business. That’s about it. That’s the trick to being normal, wrapped up like a present.
But the key...the key is belonging. And that’s something I haven’t felt in almost forever.
***
I was somewhere in the middle of putting my face on, and belting out the words right alongside Meredith Brooks, singing I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, when Grams came into my room a little later in the week.
It took a minute and I fumbled, I admit, spilt powder freaking everywhere, but once the volume was at an appropriate speaking level, I smiled and motioned for Grams to come in.
“The mail came today, Evie.”
I continue smiling, waiting to see if this is another senior moment, or if there’s something more than just the mail coming today that she wanted to tell me about.
And I wait. Blinking. Smiling.
“Yes, ma’am,” I offer in hopes of showing she’s got my full attention. “On time too. Lookie there. Four pm. Straight up.” Still smiling…
I know she’s lucid and here with me when her eyes land on mine. “Yeah, well I’ve been waiting for some paperwork to go through and come back. There was so much lost...dropped between the cracks. And your mom couldn’t keep up with herself, much less the two of you little ones. Anyway, your birth certificate came in today, hon. We can go get your driver’s permit whenever you’re ready. Just let me know.”
Elation like no other swells inside my poor heart. “Really?” I ask her in a whisper. I’m up and trying to stop her before she turns to shuffle away. “Grams, are you serious? I didn’t even know you were—” I shake my head, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m actually going to get my permit! Still trailing behind her, I follow her down the hall—make-up and Meredith Brooks forgotten. Then I wrap my arms around her middle when we enter the living room, and I swear if she sees the tears in my eyes, I’ll deny, deny, deny! “Thank you, Grams.” I whisper from the bottom of my heart.
Then I turn, tucking my tail, before showing any emotion, and hurry back to my bedroom. This is my way of dealing, okay? Don’t judge.
Once I’ve reassembled my face, I flip open my phone and text Lauryn and Ty. ‘Holy shit! I’m getting my driver's license!!! Grams just got my bc in the mail!’
To which Lauryn’s response is: ‘Bc?’
And mine is: Birth certificate.
You don’t even want to know what Ty’s was: Birth control. Pfft.
After I’ve achieved looking like what I want the rest of the world to perceive me as for the day, I throw my bags over my shoulder, swipe a piece of toast and some coffee, and kiss Grams goodbye before heading over to Ty’s before school.
And I’m halfway down the street, when a huge cluster of bikes roar by. It causes me to shudder as I light my cigarette. When I get to Ty’s driveway, I let my eyes follow the motorcycles the further away they drive. And I can’t help but admit, I wonder what it feels like sometimes to fly.
“Jesus Christ, what’s with all the foolishness and fuckery? Baby, what the hell was that?” He looks like a baby bird. Why is his mouth always flapping open?
“Pick your chin up, Bae. You’re drooling.” When he gets closer to me we both snicker and he winks.
“Umm...if it’s them’s Mr. Hotty’s knob I’mma be slobbing, then good. I’ll need the drool.” He laughs and I gag around rolling my eyes at him.
“Gross, whatever. Did you get your purse?” I’m joking. But he’s not.
“Of course I did. Coach, baby. Just got it in.” After he displays it, effortlessly too I must add, I concede my jealousy.
“Damn, I was freaking kidding, too. Joke’s on me, I guess. I flove it, I do. Where’d you get it?” I ask as Lauryn pulls her Bug up along the drive.
“Shotgun! K-Mart. I bought the Coach key chain off eBay, though. It kinda matches? Right?” he asks as he ushers me into the back seat. He called shotgun first. I was in the middle of looking at his bag—jackass.
“Yeah, it matches. I couldn’t tell.” I shrug, having no freaking idea what he’s talking about. My bag’s an old army one. Like the sandy camouflage ones. From Salvation freaking Army. Do you think I know what Coach is? I’m assuming it’s the opposite of what it means in airport lingo? I don’t know. Again, don’t judge.
***
After acing the shit out of my English final paper, I felt pretty damn close to awesome leaving school on my last day of high school, I must say. And the fact that I was two years younger than my two best friends didn’t bother us in the least. Nope, not one little bit. But it for damn sure made Grams extra proud. When all three of us come filing in the front door of my house, my friends wave at Grams as I dramatically let the bags hanging from both arms fall to the ground.
“I’m done! I finished! I did it! Damn, you Animal Farm! I won! An eighty-nine, Grams. I passed my last needed class with an eighty-nine!” I drop to the couch before draping my arm across my face and I hear her chuckling.
“Well, a damn eighty-nine it is then, Evie May. I’ll take it!” She gets up from her spot, which just so happens to be a recliner parked in front the TV set, so she can watch her daytime stories. And when she’s close enough, she sits down on the couch and hugs me. “Good God. I don’t know how I’ll ever get up now,” she mutters before I feel her lips brush my forehead. “I’m proud of you, my Evie. Damn proud. Ya done good, sweetie. I don’t know why you pushed yourself to graduate with these two, but you did it. You put your mind to it, and you did it. I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” She smiles and the feeling in my chest, right next to my beating heart, is absolutely indescribable. But damn it, it feels good.
“Thank you, Grams.” After covertly wiping my tears with my t-shirt covered shoulder, I let out an exasperated breath. “Gah! The emotions! Ahhh!” I laugh and look over at Ty and L both shaking their heads and smiling. And after Grams settles back in her chair she shoos us off when General Hospital comes back from commercials.
“So I think me and Ty are going to go to that party tonight. Are you okay with that? And I was kidding—about Brad. I was just pouting. I really want you to go,” Lauryn explains as she shuts my bedroom door after Ty walks in.
“Yeah. That’s cool. You know I don’t care about Brad, L.” I laugh, tossing my bags on my bed.
“Not unless Brad has a motorcycle, right? Have y’all seen all the bearded gifts of God coming through lately? Must be a convention or something going on.” Ty tosses his Coach/ K-Mart purse on a beanbag by my door. “Hey, when are you and Grams going to Jersey for that thing tomorrow? Tonight or in the morning?” After he trips me on my way from the bathroom, he halfway catches me and I fall the rest of the way onto the bed.
Once we’re snuggled, L flops down on my vanity stool and kicks her feet up
on my bed, crossing them at the ankles. “Grams told her in the morning, right, Eve?”
“Yeah. Not looking forward to it, either. Hopefully I’ll get to bring my sister back though. That’d be cool,” I mutter. I’m hoping, but I doubt this meeting or whatever it is, is something I’m going to skip away from with my sister and mom holding each of my hands. As much as I’d like to believe my mom is going to be able to make everything better, I’m doubtful. Sue me.
I’m used to being let down. Especially where Ilsa Blakeney is concerned.
Ty turns from looking up at the ceiling on his back, and he faces me and Lauryn when he’s on his stomach, but his eyes zero in on mine. “Okay, so what’s up? You never told us your story, morning glory. Do you live with your mom? Are you going to live with your mom? Where’s she been at?” His questions hurt more than he could ever know. And I don’t fault him for them. Not at all. But that doesn’t help the sting. Or my uneasiness about the whole subject.
“Obviously, I live with my grams. My story...I don’t know, guys. I don’t have a story. Or I’m still trying to figure out what it is. I’m not thrilled about having to go to this thing tomorrow. At all. I don’t like change. Mainly because it’s never meant good things for me. But hopefully I’ll get my sister back out of it. I miss her. A lot.” I shrug, and somehow keep back the tears. Even when my two closest friends engulf me in a group hug, right there on the middle of my double bed.
And once the moment has thankfully passed, and I’ve had a minute to collect myself, I smile at them. “Now, go! Shit, get! You two have a party to go get dolled up for, and I have a driver’s permit picture to get ready for! Go! Get! The both of ya!” After some hugs and air kisses, my friends leave me with my thoughts, and just like always, the melancholy feeling that invades me every time I’m alone creeps back in.
I haven’t slept in I don’t know how long. I can’t fucking eat. Hell, I can hardly breathe lately, I swear. And the tension within the club just keeps getting higher with every new member that arrives in town. And it’s not like it’s a small town! It’s fucking New York City, for Christ’s sake! But I guess like most, we stick to our own, and tend to prefer the company of others like us. So, where’d most of the brothers decide to set up shop and call home for the next few days? You guessed it. My MC’s compound.
If I Should Die: A Kimber S. Dawn MC Novel Page 6
