Little Peach (11 page)

She didn’t eat breakfast today, even though I made banana pancakes. I know she loves them, ’cause she usually eats two whole plates full, even though she says I don’t make them right. But not today. Today her face fell down when she saw them. Then she disappeared into the bathroom for a long time. When it was time to get dressed, she lingered in her sweatpants, like she didn’t want to leave.

Kat’s the one who yells at us if we take too long to get ready.

But not today. Today, I could tell, she didn’t want to go.

Tonight at the hotel, I take my pill and wait for the warmth, but it doesn’t come. I knock on the door of Room 5. Kat’s in front of the mirror, taking deep
breaths, her hand on her stomach. She’s not wearing lipstick, and her eyelids are bare.

She’s shivering a little.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Are you sick?”

Kat shakes her head, takes a big sip of water. “I’m fine. What do you want?”

“The pill’s not working.”

“What?”

“The pill. It’s not working.”

She frowns, fishes in her bag, and hands me the entire bottle of pills. “Keep ’em.”

Something’s wrong with her, but I don’t know what. I stand there, waiting for her to tell me, but she doesn’t say anything, just stares at herself in the long mirror, but she doesn’t fuss with her hair or fix her makeup. She looks different. Like a regular girl who just got home from school.

I swallow another half, then I feel it. “Thanks,” I say, and float to the door.

“You gonna need more and more,” she says. Then she turns back to the mirror, her hand drifting to her stomach. She stands up straight, her sharp shoulders jutting out proudly.

“Not me, though. I’m done with all that.”

That morning when we get home, Kat showers and climbs into Devon’s lap. She strokes his face and smiles at him with eyes as soft as pillows, presses closed lips to his mouth, once, twice, again.

“What’s up with you, girl?” he asks.

“Nothin’. I’m just happy. That’s what you want, right?”

Devon looks at her, searches her face with his eyes. He sees it, too, the something different. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Then tell me something good.”

“You my girl,” he answers.

“That’s right,” she answers, kissing him again. “Always.”

Kat says, “Teach me how to cook chicken cutlets.”

I show her. Dip them in eggs, then bread crumbs. Put them in a pan with butter. Don’t leave them too long or they get dry. Dump the extra eggs down the drain. We can always buy more.

Her hands tremble. Her lips look dry. She groans a little and touches her forehead.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing. Show me again.”

“Are you sick? Maybe you need medicine. A pill.”

“I’m fine,” she snaps. “Just show me again.”

And so I do.

Dip them in eggs. Then bread crumbs. Put them in a pan with butter.

Kat and Daddy close the door to their bedroom.

Something’s going on.

I wake up Baby, pull the towel back to let the light in. I make us French toast with cinnamon. Baby lies on the couch and rubs her eyes.

Then Kat emerges with a grin I’ve never seen on her before. She smiles big, her face all bright. She looks older—but somehow younger too.

“I’m pregnant. Me and Daddy, we gonna have a baby.”

Butter hisses in the pan. I drop the spatula. “For real?”

A baby.

“Yeah. I took, like, five tests.”

“But . . . how?” I ask. “I mean, don’t you have that
thing inside you? Queen Bee said we couldn’t—”

“Guess it was meant to be,” Kat cuts me off.

I go to her. I want to hug her, but I don’t know if she’ll let me.

A baby. In our apartment. Tiny and clean and soft. We’d be like a real family then. I put my hand on her shoulder and smile.

“You’re gonna be a mama.”

Kat’s face opens like a flower. “Yeah,” she laughs. “Yeah. I didn’t really think of it like that, but yeah. I am. You gonna help, right?”

I flush with pride. “You know it,” I answer. “I’ll cook for all of us.” Kat puts her arm around my shoulders. Looks right at my face.

“You will, won’t you?” she says. “You kinda crazy, Peach. You got something good inside you.”

Kat’s never hugged me before. She pulls me toward her for a second, holds me there with her shaky hands.

“Queen Bee’s on her way. Boost’ll take you girls to work tonight. Daddy’s gonna stay here with me, to make sure everything all right.”

Baby hasn’t moved. She shoves her thumb in her mouth and turns on the TV. She looks angry.

“What’s wrong with you?” Kat asks. “I thought you’d be happy. You the one who said you didn’t want to be the baby no more.”

Baby shrugs and turns up the volume. “You’re lyin’. You can’t have a baby.”

“Whatever. You better get used to the idea. You gonna have to help out.”

Kat sparkles, her hands on her belly. Baby drags herself up and hugs Kat. “Congratulations. I guess.”

Kat rubs her head. “Relax, kid. It ain’t comin’ for a while. You still the baby, okay? Maybe it’ll be a little girl. You can do her hair and dress her up, like you do with those dolls under your bed.”

“Shut up,” Baby snaps. “I don’t play with those.”

“You better get dressed. Boost’s on his way.”

Kat brings me an outfit—her favorite white shirt, the one that drapes off the shoulder, and her plaid skirt. “I don’t need it no more. Take it.”

She fusses with me, fiddles with my braids. “They startin’ to frizz. I’ll fix ’em tomorrow.”

I’m happy for her, happy to think about a little tiny infant here with us. But part of me is jealous too. And maybe a little scared. Kat won’t be next door at the
Litehouse anymore. I don’t wanna be there by myself, just me and Baby and the other girls I don’t know that well.

When Boost arrives, she walks us to the door. “Be safe,” she says, her T-shirt loose and comfy, her sweatpants hanging easy on her hips. “I’ll be here when you get home.”

The door to Devon’s room is shut tight. He’s in there alone, talking on the phone. And though I’m not sure why, I don’t want to leave her.

“Daddy’s happy?” I ask.

“Of course he is.”

Baby takes my hand, pulls me out into the hall. Behind Devon’s door, music starts to thunder. Hard and loud.

Like a fist.

“Wake up.”

Kat’s face shines at me, burning through the fog of sleep.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“It’s early. C’mon. I got a surprise for you.”

She wakes Baby too. We dress quickly, tiptoe in the
silent apartment. Devon’s door is closed. She slips the key into the lock, leads us down the stairs into the daylight.

“Where we goin’?” Baby whines. “Where’s Daddy?”

“Hush,” she says, taking her hand. Baby’s still in her pajamas, me in Grandpa’s T-shirt and Daddy’s giant shorts.

Kat trots down the street in her sneakers, her long hair bouncing. We head toward the ocean, turn left on Surf Avenue. It’s ten a.m. I glance around, looking for Boost or the little guy Fuse or anyone else wearing red.

They’re not awake yet—only families, dragging kids with beach towels, and the subway station up ahead with people streaming out of it, pouring like water across the street. We mix with the crowd, with men and women and girls and boys and little kids in strollers. The yellow air is warm, the sun peeking up at us. Kat holds on to us, weaves us through the strangers. A woman with a child bumps Kat’s shoulder.

“Excuse me,” she says.

Kat steps aside, her face wide and welcoming. She smiles at the child. “Have fun,” she says, and the woman smiles back.

We dive through the crowd, down Surf Avenue, until Kat halts us in front of the the amusement park.

Baby stops, her face switching on like a lightbulb. “For real?!” she squeals. “But we ain’t supposed to be here. Daddy said.”

“It’s okay. C’mon. We won’t stay long.”

“But what if Daddy finds out—”

“Don’t ruin this, Baby. You the one always complainin’ that you wanna go here. Now’s your chance.”

Baby’s eyes shine up at the Ferris wheel. “But the cops. Daddy said—”

“Ain’t nobody gonna take you, Baby. Look at all these people. Nobody even gonna notice you, unless you make a scene. So c’mon. We won’t stay long. We’ll be back before he even knows we’re gone.”

Baby doesn’t move. She looks at me, then back at Kat. “I dunno. It’s bigger than I thought. I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

I wait for Kat to snap, to hiss at her like she usually does, but instead she wraps an arm around Baby’s thick shoulder. “It’s okay. Nothing’s gonna happen. Just have fun, that’s all. Like the rest of these people. Just act normal.”

There are lots of rides. Small ones for little kids. Teacups that spin, a small red train, a miniature roller coaster. Kat pulls out a wad of wrinkled cash. “Which one you wanna go on first?”

Baby grins. “The teacups!”

We get in line, wait our turn, but the man looks at Baby and frowns.

“This ride’s for children. How old are you?”

“None of your business,” Kat answers. “We got money. Just let her on.”

“Sorry. She’s too big. She won’t fit.”

Kat shoots him a glare like a punch. “We got money.”

“She’s too big. Sorry.”

Baby’s face falls a little.

“You’re an asshole,” Kat snaps. “C’mon, Baby. We’ll find a different ride. This one’s stupid anyway.”

And so, we wander. There are games to play. Kat gives Baby a dollar. She steps up to a counter, throws a ball at a target, and misses. “Keep tryin’,” Kat insists with her new voice. Baby tries again, but the ball plops to the ground.

“This is stupid,” she grumbles. Then Kat grabs a ball, scrunches her forehead, and whales it hard at the
target. A bell squeals and the whole thing lights up.

“We have a winner!” the man announces. Someone behind us cheers. Baby jumps and claps. “You did it!” she shouts. “You did it, Kat!”

“Choose your prize, young lady,” says the man. Baby picks a stuffed giraffe and hugs it tight, her big saucer eyes shining and full as she runs to the next game. “I wanna try this one!”

“You better win me something, girl,” Kat says with a laugh, rubbing Baby’s head, and my heart lifts up, fills me up till I think I might explode. Baby, in her striped pink pajamas. Kat, with her unpainted face. And me.

All together. Like a family.

You see me, Mama?

“Can I get some cotton candy?” I whisper.

“Hell yeah,” says Kat, holding out a ten. “Get two.”

And I do. I get two, and I don’t wipe the sugar off my face.

For the next hour, we dash from one game to the next. Kat can throw a ball at anything. She hardly ever misses. We win another animal—a huge panda bear. Then we race, all of us holding guns, squirting water at metal frogs that swim across a fake ocean. Kat wins
again and the man hands us a goldfish in a plastic bag.

“Like Nemo!” Baby shrieks. “Kat! Can we keep him?!”

“We’ll see,” Kat says. But I know we can’t. We can’t keep anything, or Daddy will know we were here.

Then we approach it. The Ferris wheel. The fake moon I see at night.

WONDER WHEEL,
it says, in giant red letters. Baby stares up at it.

“Wanna go on?” Kat asks.

And Baby can only nod, her mouth hanging open. “I bet you can see the whole world from up there.”

“Go ’head. I’ll wait here.”

“Come with me,” Baby whines.

“Nah. I can’t. The baby and all. Queen Bee says I gotta be careful.”

“I’ll stay with you,” I say.

“I don’t wanna go on by myself,” Baby complains.

A woman standing ahead of us in line smiles with her face freckled and brown hair with streaks of blond. “She can come on with us if she’d like to.” Her little boy grins with ice-cream-covered teeth.

“Okay,” Baby says, and we watch as she climbs into
a blue swinging cage. The door shuts noisily, and then she’s in the air.

Kat and I sit on a bench, the ocean right there next to us. I breathe in the air, the sun that keeps rising, the water that licks at the shore. I wonder where my mother is. I wish that she knew that I’ve made it to New York, that I have a family. A real family. And that soon we’ll move away, to someplace beautiful and quiet.

Maybe I’ll go back to school.

I’ll teach Kat how to cook all sorts of good things. Just like Grandpa taught me.

And once the baby comes, we’ll take care of it.

Nothing bad will ever happen again.

“We should get home,” Kat says. She’s shivering again, like she’s been doing for the past couple weeks. “Daddy will be up soon.”

“Let her stay a little longer,” I say. “It’s nice to see her be a kid, you know? Not just sleeping all the time like she does. Or watching
Nemo
.”

“True enough.” Kat crosses her arms, rubs her shoulders like she’s freezing. “That kid came up hard. You know her father lives around the block from us? He used to score his shit right on 25th Street. Baby’d sit on
the step of the Laundromat waiting for him to come back. He’d yell at her, call her names. Forget she was there sometimes. When Devon brought Baby home, her father figured out where she was, and he’d hit her up for money. Tell her she owed him. He got those eyes, you know? All lookin’ at her the wrong way, like a trick. Not like a father. That’s why she sleeps all the time. I think she still trying to forget.”

The blue cage swings in the air, reaches the top of the Wonder Wheel, and starts to descend. We wave. Then we see.

Chubby fingers stretched through the metal. Reaching for us.

A little boy crying.

Baby’s face pressed against the side. She’s crying too.

“I don’t like it!” she screams. “Get me off!”

Kat jumps to her feet. “Shit,” she says. She pushes past the crowd as the blue cage grazes the ground and starts to ascend again. “Wait! Stop! Stop the ride! She’s scared!” Kat lunges for the man at the bottom, his hand on the lever. “Stop it! She need to get off!”

Baby’s eyes are frantic. She’s screaming at us, the little boy wailing. “Get me off! I don’t like it!”

“Step back!” the man commands, pushing Kat away. “She can get off the next time around.”

“Motherfucker,” she snarls. “Get her off. Now.”