Chapter From Novel-In-Progress
My
babysitter Mrs. Freed walked me up the apartment steps after school. A man was
standing at the top, outside our door. He wore a glow-in-the-dark yellow shirt.
The kind workmen who fix things in the street wear. He moved for me to pass by
him, and I went inside.
Grandma was talking to Mom. “Aubrie
needs consistency, Deenie.” Sometimes Mom’s visits made Grandma mad, and my
stomach hurt.
“She needs her mother, not an
old woman who won’t let her do anything.” I dropped my schoolbag. Mom came at
me with her arms up. Was she mad at me too? I covered my face with my hands and
closing my eyes. “Aubrie, baby, I missed you. Did you miss me?”
“Hi, Mom.” I tried to hug her
back, but my hands were squished between her chest and my face, like I was praying
hard. I had forgotten how beautiful she was, even with purple hair.
“We're gonna be a team again.”
What did she mean? Teams played
sports. Did Mom want to play a game?
She unhugged me and smiled. I tried,
but couldn’t ask if she gave my Orangina Marigold back to
her friend Jacques. Mom didn’t like plants.
But something was different about
her. No fancy high heeled shoes or shop nails, just fun hair. Mom probably didn’t
know it, but she was her own kind of flower. With no roots, she moved around on
her own. She even smelled sweet.
“Deenie, please. That'll be the
third school she's gone to this year. And that neighborhood is still
bad."
In a high, squeaky voice, Mom said, “Go
pack your things, Aubrie,” but frowned at Grandma.
Mom had been staying in a condo with
a friend. His grandchildren were my age, and were visiting too when Mom took
me. The condo only let pets and adults live there. “Are
we moving back to your old apartment?”
Mom stooped down and said, “I’m
settled in a new one, baby. You'll love it. It has a real live bush outside the
door.”
I filled trash bags Mom handed me.
Then squeezed Grandma good-bye. I thought she was fake crying because she put
her finger in front of her mouth and flashed her new phone. She shoved it into
my pocket, like the last time we played that game. I must have lost her other
phone in Mom’s old apartment.
Mom
turned from the kitchen holding up a gallon of milk. Grandma nodded, and she
wiggled it into a bag of food from the refrigerator. Mom handed the food bag
out the door to the guy in the bright yellow shirt. When he reached in to take
it, I saw that his shiny hair clumped together. White stuff sprinkled the
spaces in between.
“Your
mom said I can pick you up Sunday morning for church.” Grandma wiped her nose
with a tissue. She had to be pretending because I never saw her cry before. I
hugged her again, and left with Mom.
“Where's the taxi?” I asked
from the sidewalk. We couldn’t carry all those bags on the bus.
“Lenny's driving us in his
Toyota.” She pointed to a spotty blue car at the curb in front of us. The
yellow shirt guy was inside.
I got in the seat behind Mom. Lenny
peeked at me in the mirror, and his big nose got longer. “Hiya,
Aubrie. Your mom told me you’d be moving in with us.” His bad breath made me
stop breathing so I couldn’t say ‘hi’ back. The window next to me wouldn’t go
down.
We were on the number 4 bus route,
then turned off at the gas station where Grandma never needed to stop. I lost
count of the blocks before we turned at another gas station. We bumped over
train tracks and made a right turn, a left, and another right after we passed a
bus depot. Then did a U-turn and parked. Were we in her old apartment’s
neighborhood?
Mom’s new apartment was the same
as the other ones around it, except for the bush. Crispy brown leaves stuck to
its smooth branches. I wished with my eyes shut for green leaves to grow when
summer came.
“You can put your things in the
living room for now, Aubrie,” Mom said as I stepped inside. She started
unloading the food.
Lenny put my trash bag of clothes in
a corner next to the TV. “Don't shove my beer in the back of the fridge,”
he called. Then let himself fall onto the couch, and turned on the TV.
Walls in that living and dining room
were white. Furniture, jackets, shoes and my bags of stuff, lumped around me at
the bottom of those smudged walls. I searched for a cozy space to settle down,
peeping into the bathroom and bedroom. Besides plants, Mom hated pets, so why
did it smell like she had one?
I didn’t know what to do with my body
in that place. I tried staying near Mom. She yelled at me for being in her way;
only one person fit in the kitchen. The table next to it had two chairs. I
climbed onto the one farthest from Lenny. In front of me, piled up papers,
McDonald’s wrappers, and mugs, blocked him, if I slouched. Grandma’s table
never got that messy, even when she was too tired to clean up after dinner.
Mom made grilled cheese and gave
Lenny two. He ate them on the couch. I ate mine on my lap at the table. Mom
finished making hers and flopped next to him.
The papers moved a little when I
shoved them. I wiped up that part of the table and started my homework; did three
problems, then stopped. If I went to a new school, I didn’t
have to do the homework from my old school.
Mom froze, staring at the movie. She
usually didn’t sit that still. Cars revved loud and shot at
each other. Scary music played in between more weird sounds. I wanted to stuff
cotton in my ears the way Grandma did to keep the medicine in when I had an
infection.
Lines of words zipped up the TV
screen. Mom defrosted. I lifted my head from the table, wondering where the
light switch was. What time did Mom go to bed? Most nights I didn’t
feel Grandma getting into bed next to me because I was already asleep. Over the
pile on the table, I asked, “Mom, where am I gonna sleep?” Besides the kitchen
chairs, there wasn’t even a place for me to sit.
“With me.” She threw her arms
in the air, and jumped up. “Len don't mind sleeping on the couch.” It was the
same one from the other apartment, only darker. Mom put her arm around me, and
we walked into the bedroom.
Clothes twisted in crazy ways on the bureau
and bed, and dripped from the open closet door. More pants and shirts wrestled
with blankets on the floor. “Where am I gonna put my stuff?”
“We just have to get organized,
baby. Len's gotta keep his things in his car because he's not supposed to stay
here, with only the one bedroom. The state counselor that’s coming over thinks
it’s just you and me here. But Len’s job helps with extra expenses. So
remember, it's our secret game, okay baby?”
I didn't hug her back.
“Mom, I wanna go to sleep now.”
But not in that room.
“Sure, sure, go ahead baby.”
She moved clothes from one side of the bed to the other. “I'll clear off my
side later.”
The pillow on the cleared side
was greasy with two black hairs on it. Not purple ones. Thinking of putting my
head on it made my stomach mix around the grilled cheese.
She started to walk out of the room,
but I grabbed her arm. “Mom, please, can't we put clean things on the
bed?”
“Well, go ahead if you want to.
They're in the bathroom closet.” She was leaving again, but I still held on.
“Mom, I can't walk near the
bed. I'll step on stuff.”
“Aubrie, don't worry about it.
Just get into bed. I'll get them later.” She pulled away.
Something inside me had to get out,
and I didn’t want it to be the grilled cheese. “This makes
me sick,” I yelled. “I can't sleep in here. I can't even breath. I want to go
home to Grandma’s.”
Mom came back into the room. “All
right, all right, I'll help you.” She kicked her way to the window, and opened
it. “First of all, let's get Len's stuff together. Fold up any men's clothes
you find, and we'll bag them. I'll put work clothes in the bathroom for him for
tomorrow.” I let Mom get the men's clothes and picked up hers.
A shower and glass of milk, after we
were done, chased creepy crawlies from my skin. The piles on the bureau and
closet door were higher, but at least we could walk around in there. If the
clean sheets were Grandma’s, sniffing them would’ve put me to sleep
faster.
Lenny cursed in the bathroom about
not finding pants he wanted. He cursed some more in the kitchen about dishes in
the sink. Then about where his keys were. The apartment door slammed, cutting
off his voice. I got up.
Mom was texting on the couch with her coffee. I got cereal and sat at
the part of the table that I had cleared yesterday. “What
time are you going to work, Mom?”
She still messed with her phone. “I
lost my job.”
That pet smell was all over her and
the couch. Mom’s shorts were too big, and her long hair was in
a knot on top of her head. Brown hair pushed away the purple from her forehead
and from the side of each cheek.
I asked, “What
are we doing today?”
“We can't do anything, Aubrie.
I don't have any money.” Mom fibbed about the money. I saw Grandma give her some.
I finished my cereal, and did the
dishes. Got dressed and checked on the bush. A bus drove up to the curb near
the apartments while I was picking trash from around the bush. Three kids got
on the bus and it left. An older kid walked by with his backpack on one
shoulder.
Mom called, “What’re
you doin’ out there?” She sounded interested.
I went back into the apartment
holding out an empty fountain soda cup with a straw sticking out of its lid, a
McDonald’s wrapper, a broken pen with no ink inside, and
a Mountain Dew bottle. “Cleaning up trash.” I threw them away and washed my
hands.
She was done texting when I plopped
down on the floor in front of her and said, “We could listen to music and
dance. Don’t you do that when you’re not working?”
“I really need to get this
apartment in shape for the counselor's visit.” She breathed out hard at
everything in the apartment. Did she notice the smell? I didn’t want to
embarrass her by asking about it. “And we'll have to sign you up for school
before she comes.”
Mom was sad. So, I stood up and
wiggled. “Okay. Let's listen to music and do a cleaning
dance.” If I made it fun, then she’d be happy.
“We have to hide everything
that's Len's. I’m not sure how picky this new counselor is,” said Mom. The pet
smell was almost gone. And she had let me wash the pillow in the front loader,
after I reminded her about the money Grandma gave her. She didn’t get angry.
Just told me to tell the counselor how much I loved living with her.
She high fived me. “Like I
said, me and you make a great team, Aubrie.” We did make a great cleaning team.
More fun than gym, but not as fun as the last apartment clean up.
Lenny came into the apartment when
we were putting away laundry. He took Mom out to dinner. We still had food from
Grandma’s apartment, so I ate her yummy left-over beef
stew. On the back of my notebook that I didn’t need for science class anymore,
I drew the bush with live leaves. I couldn’t remember enough about Orangina to
draw her.
My bush drawing turned into
skinny broccoli. That’s probably why I started to cry.
Sunday morning Grandma was waiting
outside to take me to church. Mom was still in bed asleep when I passed Lenny
snoring on the couch.
At the end of the Earth Day service,
we stood in line to leave, waiting to greet Pastor. Church ladies held boxes of
green leaves waving purple or pink or white flowers behind him. They picked out
one container at a time, and handed it to whoever shook Pastor's hand. People
ahead of us talked a long time with him. I squirmed in front of Grandma.
When I got to Pastor, he asked how
school was going. I didn't want to say 'okay' because that would be a lie.
Grandma answered, “Aubrie is switching schools. She's with her mom
now in another neighborhood.”
“I’m sure you’ll do well in
your new school, Aubrie.” Pastor shook my hand. Those leaves and flowers were
waving at me over his shoulder from the narthex. I don’t remember if I said
anything, or even looked at Pastor.
I stepped past him. A lady pushed a
sticker of a smiling blue triangle of arrows onto my blouse. Are church people
allowed to touch me? Another lady lifted purple flowers above my head. I
thought she was teasing me. I almost jumped to snatch it, but Grandma took it.
She handed it to me as soon as we stepped
onto the pavement. I carefully skipped ahead of Grandma with my impatiens. That
was what the church lady called it. It didn't make me think of Orangina
Marigold. It looked too different. Um, well, maybe it did remind me of her a
teeny bit. But I didn't give it a special name, like Happy or Petals.
Me and Grandma bused back to Mom's
apartment after dinner. I didn't have a key, so I knocked. Lenny opened the
door. I almost dropped the impatiens because Grandma pulled me close to her.
She asked for Mom, but he said she wasn't home.
I smelled Mom’s
cigarette. It was different from Lenny’s toy one that needed a battery. “Mom’s
hiding in the bedroom,” I whispered to Grandma, and stepped into the apartment.
She stared at Lenny until he closed the door on her.
Lenny followed me into the hall. He
groaned as I shut the bathroom door behind me. I put the impatiens on the back
of the toilet. Then changed my mind about leaving it there. Mom slipped into
the bathroom past Lenny as I came out. He said, “Oh god, with the two of yous,
I'll never get in there.”
Someone might knock over my
impatiens inside the apartment. Maybe that's what happened to Orangina. Growing
things like being outside in the sun and rain anyway. Hmm.
I visited the bush. My mouth, not my
voice, talked to it about my impatiens living under its branches. If I had to
move again, Grandma and I could come back and get it without bothering Mom. I
was going to wish that no one would steal it. But praying might work better. So,
I prayed.
In the kitchen, I ran water into a
cup and thought about what to do with my flower if I was still living there
when winter came.
Lenny huffed when the shower hissed
in the bathroom. He grumbled at the TV. Then opened the door, and stared at the
bush. He leaned out close to where I hid my impatiens and looked down. Was he looking
at my purple flower. Did he love plants too? Maybe all Mom's boyfriends did.
Then I heard dribbling. I only saw Lenny’s
back, but I knew what he was doing. He didn’t love plants! But how could he do
such a terrible thing to something so beautiful? It couldn't even move to get
away.
Mom came out of the bathroom and
fished a bar of soap out of one of the bags from Grandma’s.
I couldn't help crying and pulling her towards the door. "Mom, Lenny's
peeing on my impatiens."
"Oh Aubrie, he's drunk.”
Mom made the towel round her body tighter. “He doesn't know what he's doing.
The rain'll wash it off."
The pee sound kept going. “Make
him stop, Mom.”
“Aubrie.” Why was she yelling
at me? “Men can’t cut off their stream like we can. He just has to finish.” Mom
should yell at Lenny and save my impatiens. Would she save me if I was in
trouble?
He finally backed back inside. Mom
smacked his shoulder. When she was mad at me, she hit me in the face, and
harder. "Really? You couldn't wait two minutes? You scared my kid."
She fumed into the bathroom.
His head hung above me; a cartoon
face with extra big eyes. A tattoo crept from inside his undershirt. I didn't
know what it was a picture of, but it scared me. Him peeing didn't though. Why
did Mom say that? When I cry I'm sad, not scared.
Then I got mad when his nasty breath
said, real slow like, "Oh, baby. You won't be scared once you're used to
it." A sneaky laugh buzzed out of his nose. He messed with his zipper.
I said it the way Grandma taught me:
"If you touch me, I'll tell my grandma and she'll get my grandpa's service
revolver and kill you in your sleep." It felt good saying it.
His wet smile dried into a pencil
line. My words made that happen. They plumped me up bigger. Lenny turned into
the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
He moved out a week later when he
didn’t have any more beer money. But his glow-in-the-dark shirts kept the
hamper lit up at night.
My impatiens died. I cried every
time we passed it going out, or coming into the apartment. Mom used a napkin to
get rid of the plastic planter with its poisoned soil. She threw it in the
dumpster behind the complex, so I wouldn’t keep seeing it.
By the end of that month, we
move too. Mom said we'd only have to live at Grandma's until she got another
job.
My bags of stuff, landing on
Grandma's apartment floor, erased the weeks I was away.
