by Grace, Pella
“She’s from the heart. I already told you, you can’t deny shit from the heart. She just glows. I think that’s why you remind me of her. You both have a glow. It’s the epicenter of your beauty. All these girls try so hard to push what they think is sexy or pretty in your face but it’s not. You can’t force an idea on someone.
“You can’t make someone believe something is what it is just because you fucking think it’s what they should be. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. You and Mariah? Others girls wish.”
Her eyes squint, picking a piece of chicken off the end.
“I’m going to accept that answer, since you bought me a Cajun biscuit and accidentally ordered four orders of gravy biscuits instead of just four single biscuits, C-Child.”
“I fear for your insides.”
“You love my insides.”
“Keep talking that shit and you’re about to find out how much.”
She takes a bite of her sandwich. A knock on the door turns to a pound.
“I’m not answering that.” The sound grows louder. “I’m not fucking answering that. Turn the TV louder.”
“It sounds urgent.”
“It could be the end of the world. I’m not moving from this bed.”
Bang, Bang, Bang.
“Cash! Cash!”
I sit straight up. Lilla drops her food.
“Caaaaaash!”
My feet move faster than I think they ever fucking have. I slap the chain on the door away and flip the lock.
1:59 pm
Shit gets real.
“I think it’s happening.” Hattie holds her belly. I reach out and help her inside of my apartment.
“What do I do—what do I do?”
She pants, holding onto me. “I need to go to the hospital. I can’t get a hold of Trent.”
“Honey-girl, call Poppy. My phone is on—” but she’s already running away.
“Holy crap this is happening. Holy crap. Holy crap, Cash. Holy crap.”
I try not to laugh, but the rush of reality and her holy crap count makes me.
“You’ll be okay. Want me to carry you to the car?”
She shakes her head. “No, I want you to push this baby out of your vagina.”
“I would if I could. Promise.”
“Holy crap. I can’t do this.”
“You’re Hattie from the seven-seven-two. You can do anything.”
She takes a death grip on my arm, walking a slow pace as we exit my apartment. Lilla has my keys and follows behind, handing me over my phone so I can talk to Poppy. I smile when Lilla let’s Hattie lean on her, too.
“What do you mean put a towel down?” I ask. “I don’t have a towel. Why do I need a towel?”
“Trust me, Warren. You’re gonna want a towel.”
I look at Lilla. She lets go of Hattie and races back to the apartment.
“Just keep her calm. I’ll meet you guys there.”
“Speed like there’s no such thing as traffic laws.”
I shove the phone in my pocket. Lilla returns and I pause. Hattie pants. Lilla looks at me.
“It’s okay, Cash—not having a person come out of my body or anything. All the time in the world.”
I ignore her and look at Lilla.
“Go grab the Mariah CD.”
“My kid isn’t being born to Mariah Carey!”
“Grab it,” I point to Honey-girl. “The live version.”
“Cash, I am serious!”
Lilla tosses me the car keys and takes off.
I keep walking with Hattie. “Mariah had her babies born to the sound of the crowd cheering. I think that’s an amazing fucking idea. A little egotistical, seeing as how it’s her goddamn song and all, but still. This baby girl is gonna have twenty thousand people cheering for her. Plus, it’s my damn birthday.”
Lilla runs up to us, looking like she’s going to vomit from all the gravy and Cajun biscuits I’m sure is not working well with the back and forth shit.
“Don’t puke in my car, Honey-girl.”
“I think the towel was for her water breaking?”
“Yeah—but still, don’t puke in my car.”
“Both of you shut up!” Hattie leans over and pants. I rub her back because I don’t know what else to do.
“This is not how I thought today was gonna go,” I laugh.
“You think I woke up this morning with plans to push a potato sack from my vagina, Cash?”
“I’m just saying. I went from pancakes to birthday sex to—”
“Ahhh, ahhh,” Hattie groans.
I look at Lilla. She shakes her head. Finger points to her stomach.
“Cobwebs, remember?”
“Just get in the car. I’ll never forgive myself if you have a baby on the street.”
“You’re not driving,” she pants. “You’re a fucking maniac driver when you’re not shitting your pants. Give Lilla the keys. I want to live.” She sucks in a deep breath. “Good God, I wanna live!”
“Whatever you want.” I toss Lilla the keys and help Hattie into the back seat. She puts a death grip on my arm when I try to pull away.
“You’re not leaving me back here with this all alone. No damn way. Sit your ass down, Cash!”
4:37 pm
“She’s loaded on drugs. I think it’s safe to enter,” Poppy smiles as she exits Hattie’s room.
“Can Lilla come?” I ask, but Lilla’s head is shaking. I quirk an eyebrow.
“I have an extreme fear of swollen vaginas that are not mine, C-Child.”
“I’m sure her vagina isn’t sticking out.” I look at Poppy. “Jesus, it’s not sticking out is it?”
“Go say something encouraging to that girl, Warren.”
I pull Lilla’s arm along, because I’ll be damned, if there’s a hideous vagina sticking out I’m not foregoing this shit alone.
“Oh, thank Christ.”
Hattie is fully covered, a blue blanket over her. A simple tired smile on her face. I go to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed as Lilla finds a plastic chair.
“I heard you’re high as fuck. Bad parenting already, Hattie.”
“A person is about to come out of my body. Don’t judge me.”
“How soon?”
“I’m almost there. Trust me, you don’t want me fill you in any further than that.”
“A little vagina never scared me, Hattie. Come on, let me see. I want to catch the baby when it pops out.”
“Touch me and die.” She smiles weakly. “Did you find Trent?”
“Keeps going to voicemail.”
“Please don’t leave.”
I take her hand. “Someone has to hit play on the CD, remember?”
“Yeah,” she pauses, heavy breathing. “Jesus Christ. Oh Jesus Christ. I think the drugs are wearing off. Jesus Christ.” I go to move, but she has the strength of ten men.
“I don’t know what to do, Hattie.”
“Do what you always do. Make it better.”
I shift closer, leaning towards her face as she digs into the pillow, laying on her side. Her blonde hair falling into her eyes. I push it away, keeping my thumb to her cheek.
“In fifth grade, Mallory pushed you off the swings. You still have the scar on your knee. Someday, this baby is going to ask you about it. She’s gonna want to know where it came from.
“You get to tell her that even though every goddamn day that little witch pushed you off the swing-set, you still ran straight for it. You were brave enough to go for what you wanted.
“You didn’t let her stop you from your happiness. That’s how I know you’ll be a good mother. You were born to be a good mother.”
She smiles and squeezes my arm. The monitor behind her starts beeping frantically. Two nurses come rushing in.
“I didn’t do it. I swear.”
They aren’t laughing at my joke, though. They are asking me and Lilla to leave and for Hattie to roll over.
Poppy pushes past me, and then reappears
a few moments later, to the hallway.
“She’s okay,” Poppy assures, but a smirk creeps. “But, she wanted me to tell you that your story was so vomit-worthy the baby wanted to choke herself with its own umbilical cord.”
6:59 pm
I’m near Hattie’s head. I’m not looking anywhere but her face. I don’t need that visual in my life.
She grips my hand as she is ordered to push. Poppy blots her flamed cheeks with a cool washcloth. Gives her small sips of water.
I just watch her face.
“I can’t I can’t I can’t … let’s just all go home. Forget all about this.”
I chuckle and touch her cheek. “Don’t go soft on me now, Hattie. I’ve got Mariah waiting on cue.”
“I’m gonna kill Trent!”
“Smartest thing you’ve ever said.”
“I’m gonna kill you for playing Mariah Carey!”
“Still gonna do it.”
“I hate you so much!”
“Whatever keeps you pushing, H-Child.”
“All your stupid nicknames!”
“Cash money baby.”
“Your goddamn smirky-smirkiness!”
I do just that.
“You’re stupid perfect love with Lilla that makes me vomit you’re so perfect together!”
“I made love to her this morning. I bet I still smell just like her.”
“Your talented ass who fucks off and does whatever you want!”
“Twenty G’s just for stupid water color.”
Her face goes all scrunchy—beat red—a sound only a wild animal should make.
“Press the button. The button! The button!” She screams.
I fumble, looking for play on my borrowed CD player from the nurse’s lounge. Spoils of her working here.
I have the time marked.
2:38 Madison Square Garden. Twenty thousand people cheering.
I’m - in - heeeeeaven …
A baby cries.
I fucking look.
Cream cheese nasty and covered in jam. Placed right on her belly/chest.
It’s like I’m dream’n but I’m not sleep’n.
Hattie cries as she looks at her daughter.
I’d be a damn liar if I said a tear didn’t come to my eye.
The baby wails.
“You see, she doesn’t want to hear Mariah, Cash.”
I laugh, covering my mouth in goddamn awe. Hattie’s body relaxes, holding steadfast to this tiny miracle.
“I did it,” she whispers. “We did it.”
8:02 pm
I knock with flowers. Hattie looks like she wants to die and never be resurrected. I kiss her forehead and set the flowers aside. Lilla holds my free hand, looking where I’m looking.
“So pretty,” she comments. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” I cut in, “I don’t understand how this girl came from Hattie and Trent, ugly as they both are.”
“Be nice.”
“Shut up,” Hattie whisper corrects. “She’s sleeping.”
“I want to hold her. It’s why I brought flowers. I’m trying to butter you up.”
“You’re gonna give her to Poppy and I’ll never see her again. No way, baby stealer.”
“I might steal her, but I’m not giving her to Poppy.” I put out my hands.
She carefully slips the baby into my arms. I’m surprised how heavy she feels, despite her size. Lilla pushes a chair to me and I sit slowly, resting the girl on my forearms, her head in both of my palms.
“You don’t even hold a baby right,” Hattie whispers.
“I want to look at her face. Close your damn eyes and sleep so I can steal your baby. You and your ugly vagina no one will ever touch again.”
“Don’t say vagina in front of my daughter.” She smiles and then closes her eyes.
Lilla takes a seat next to me, but I can’t seem to look away. My knees slowly rock side to side. The baby sleeps. Her lips pink and small. Wrinkled eyes and just pure fucking peace. I dip my face to hers, wanting to know if what Poppy said is true. It’s true. Her face and skin and head smell like nothing I could describe.
I keep my voice low, but I need to say it. They say you can take in information better when you’re sleeping. That your brain absorbs things in their entirety. This little girl needs to know this shit.
“Your dad might be a slight dick, but that’s okay. You know why? You’re you. You came from Hattie. Hattie came from dick-like parents like your dad. A dad who thought it was okay to hurt her. And for a while, she thought it was okay, too. But then she met me. I had a good dad. I had a good mom.
“My dad taught me to never hit a girl, never hurt one. That they have feelings like butterfly wings. Sometimes, that’s true. Sometimes you have to handle them like they’re made of tissue paper. But then there’s Poppy—she told me to never treat girls like they’re less than I am. To make them feel like they are my equal. But I’m tough. I’m strong. So how do you do that? Your mom? Your mom taught me that it’s okay to tease girls. They aren’t as fragile as people think. Your mom also taught me the opposite. That sometimes they need to be protected.
“Sometimes they need a strong person to knock the shit out of someone for them. To prevent someone from tearing the paper to shreds. Then there’s Honey-girl, and all her messed up stuff. You can’t see her right now because your eyes are closed, but she’s beautiful as sin.
“So pretty inside and out and still gets these messed up ideas that she doesn’t deserve happiness. I’m working on that, though. So, maybe if you let me watch over you, like I watched over your mom, maybe you’ll end up being the first girl I know who doesn’t grow up thinking they are the sum of a crap dad.
“Because you have your mom who is paper and steel. You have me who is just indescribable, to be quite frank. You have my crazy mother who will never let you be just paper, or just steel. And my dad, he’ll always push you back in line when you forget to be who you are.”
I lean down and kiss the tip of her tiny nose. The baby wiggles inside of her tightly wrapped blanket, a cry beginning to form.
I glance up, seeing Hattie laughing.
“Not even she buys your bullshit, Cash.”
I smile and look back down to her.
“Of course not. She’s from the motherfucking seven-seven-two.”
8:17 pm
Best birthday ever.
Chapter Thirty
LILLA
I want to sleep in the sweet surrender of love.
I want to never forget how the warmth of the sun feels on your skin. I want to sit next to Cash and watch him make stupid faces at a baby. Sing softly when he thinks no one is looking and freak out when he doesn’t know what to do. I want to wake every morning to the sound of his voice signing me a song, whispered delicately and full of love.
“Ready?”
I want a hundred more days blindfolded, waiting for him to reveal something that makes butterflies in my stomach. I want to bounce on my toes and hold in a girly squeak.
Always.
Always.
Always.
“I’m ready.”
He pulls away the black band and I blink to clear the blur. But then, more, more, more blur. Clear blur but I can’t see. I have to bat my eyes to clear the tears away. He reaches from behind, a light laugh and swipes my damp cheeks.
“Now I’m always with you,” he whispers a kiss to my shoulder.
I step forward, exploring the inside space of my new office. Our office. Our building. No Adam attached. It’s ours. It’s where I’ll think and he’ll draw. Where we’ll be equals. Where we’ll work together because I always want us to work together.
It’s a rainbow sky and starry night. It’s a dance and a kiss. It’s a secret but I understand. I see it. I see him. He saw me then, I see him now. His hands have danced all over the walls. One canvas hung on the wall by a desk with bright flowers. Two blue hands. I’m surrounded by my dream. By love.
***
I swat my
hands against a wall of never-ending balloons. Bright pink and white. Gold. Butterflies attached to them.
“C-Child?” I laugh, attempting to find my desk. “Cash? Is thou somewhere within thy balloon forest?”
All I hear is quiet laughter. It makes me smile. Work harder to find him. Seriously, where did he get all of these freaking balloons from?
“I’m starting to get claustrophobic. I need to find a pair of green eyes staring back at me this very moment.”
Just as the sentence finishes, I pop out on the other side of the balloon wall. Like magic, he’s there, sitting at his desk, feet on top, leaned back, tossing a ball in the air.
I point behind me. “Is there a reason why I had to fight my way in, or, were you just bored, C-Child?”
He smiles. Keeps tossing the ball. “It’s Mariah’s anniversary.”
This is getting a little old. Odd. Odder. “Excuse me?” I might be considering professional help for the poor boy.
Slowly, “It’s Mariah’s anni—”
“Yeah, I got that part. You realize Mariah doesn’t work here, right, Lump? You realize that only you, me and Heath work here, right?”
“BOO-BAH!”
I screech, Heath jumping out from the balloons. He laughs. Cash laughs. I’m not amused. Cash sees. His feet slide from the desk. Heath puts his arm around me.
“Mariah has anniversaries not birthdays. She feels old. You understand, right?”
Cash shoves him, knocking his feet back a few steps. I have a new arm around me. Two.
“You weren’t in my bed this morning, Honey-girl.” Accusing eyes. Playful eyes. Green is the devil’s chosen color. I tell you.
“Sorry you had to find your shoes and socks all alone, little boy.” I poke his stupid grin, screwing my finger into the side of his mouth.
“It’s like waking up to a grey sky. Ugly. Lifeless. Don’t ever do it again.”
“You could have come to my apartment. You have a key.”
Heath is staring at our verbal foreplay. Our secret game. Cash smirks and ignores.
“Why don’t you guys just live together? I don’t get it. You are all …” he holds out his palm and licks all over. “It’s gross, honestly.”
