Young Wives (35 page)

“Funding for what?” Angie asked. “I mean, I am on salary now.”

Michael grinned. “Yeah, but I bet it’s not enough to pay for expert witnesses, psychologists to profile the kids, and a PI to check out Mr. Jackson and company.” Michael stood up and stretched. He was taller than Angie thought, or maybe it was that she was sitting down. He took a few steps back and forth. “We also should see if we can get another social worker, and have a state-administered drug test for Mrs. Jackson. Or maybe a series of them.” He put down the file. “You might also ask for one on Mr. Jackson. And it might not hurt to have me help on some of the testimony rehearsals.”

“Would you?” she asked. “Would you have the time?”

He barked a kind of unpleasant laugh. “Oh, I got nothin’ but time,” he told her.

“You don’t have to move, you know,” Anthony said to Angie for about the fourth time. “I mean, there’s plenty of room here.”

Angie had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, but at least her father hadn’t dropped dead when she’d broken the news to him that she’d found a place. He’d argued instead. Angie loved her father, despite his faults, despite his past behavior to her mother, but she couldn’t live with him. Nor should she. He still saw her as a child. Wait until he found out she might be having one! She couldn’t tell him that now. One blow at a time. And, Anthony being Anthony, he’d argued about money.

“You can’t afford it. You don’t need it. It’s too expensive. It’s a rip off. I can get one for you better and cheaper.” The fact was, he’d miss her and he couldn’t say he was hurt or afraid to lose her. “Really, Angie,” he was repeating, “there’s plenty of room.”

Angie looked up from the box she was tying and smiled. “Too much room, if you want my opinion, Daddy,” she said. “Why are you living here in the suburbs anyway? It doesn’t make much sense for you.”

“Are we talking about me or are we talking about you?” her father asked.

“Both of us,” Angie said. She started to pick up the box and Anthony moved over to her side.

“I’ll do that,” he told her. She touched his arm. Gray was showing more and more in his hair, and his face had shrunken a little bit, so it looked as if his skin didn’t fit smoothly across his head the way it once had. Time was passing, and he was getting old. Yet he still thought he could carry boxes better than his grown-up daughter.

She smiled at him, but there was sadness for him there. His life had not come together. After he and her mother had divorced, nothing had quite gone right. She wondered how disappointing his life was, how different it was from what he had expected or hoped for. And now hers might be moving that way, too, to the disappointment after the dream. Angie was suddenly flooded with love for her flawed father.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Angie said. “Thank you for telling me to walk out of that restaurant. And thanks for letting me stay here with you. Now it’s time for me to get myself together. But I love you, and I’ll still see you all the time.”

Anthony grabbed the box. “Of course, you will,” he said gruffly. “What do you think? You’re movin’ to China? The apartment is only a couple of miles away.”

“I know,” Angie said. “Will you come next week for dinner? As soon as I unpack two plates.”

“Sure,” her father said casually, but it didn’t fool Angie. All love, she thought, was so fragile. And so precious. “You sure you don’t want me to come with you and help you unpack?” he asked.

“No. Mom’s doing that,” Angie told him.

“Okay, fine.” He said it in that too-quick way that meant he didn’t want to show hurt feelings. Angie sighed. He had made his bed, but that didn’t mean it was a comfortable one. She’d made hers, and sometimes it felt like the rack. Angie, without looking around her, turned and walked from the room.

The place Michael’s agent had helped her find was nice. It was the lower floor in a duplex. It was sunny, and the living room doors opened to a tiny patio. If the kitchen was nothing but a closeted wall at the side of the living room, that was made up for by the two bedrooms, both of which were a decent size. She didn’t need the second bedroom, of course, but she might.

She had to blink quickly to clear her eyes, because the car behind her moved up to pass. She almost missed the turn onto Larkspur, but managed to brake and pull to the left in time without cutting anyone off. The garden apartments were located at the end of a pretty street with nothing but private houses along it. She pulled up and parked as close to her apartment as she could, and saw her mother, Laura, and Bill were already waiting outside. As she approached them, Bill held out a bag.

“We got you coffee,” he said, “but I wasn’t sure if you wanted a cruller or a handful of Munchkins.”

“I didn’t know you were all coming,” Angie said to him and kissed her mom.

“I didn’t know you were moving,” Bill said. He was a really nice guy. Angie enjoyed working with him. Maybe they could be friends.

Laura patted her shoulder and Angie reached into her pocket for her new key. “Well, let me show you what the largesse of the WLCC has afforded me,” she told them.

“‘In Xanadu did Kublah-Khan a lovely pleasure dome decree,’” intoned Bill as Angie threw open the door. She felt grateful that she didn’t have to step over the threshold alone. She had been lucky, compared to a lot of people. She had a job, and now she had a place to live and some potential friends. She wasn’t in the kind of trouble that Jada or poor Michelle were going through.

“Sometimes it’s best to keep life simple,” she said to Bill as all of them trooped through the three rooms. Then she wondered how simple she could keep it, if she were a single mother.

“They’re here!” Natalie called out. “I can’t believe they’re on time!” It was the movers, and chaos ensued. Natalie became the boss, of course, suggesting everything from how the linen should be unpacked to which direction Angie should hang her clothes in her closet. At least Natalie had ordered a double mattress and box spring from 1-800-MATTRES and it had just been delivered when the movers left.

Thank God, Angie thought, that she had almost no other furniture, because Natalie would be putting it just where she
didn’t
want it. God, she loved her mother, but she didn’t want to have to tell her about her pregnancy. Natalie would cry, then she would take over, and Angie would be told what to do, what doctor should do it, and when. It was hard to stand up against her loving mother when Natalie was blowing at gale force.

She, Bill, and Laura were struggling to pull the boxes apart while her mother ineptly worked on putting together the rolling bed frame. “Can I offer a hand?” a man’s voice asked. Angie peeked around the side of the mattress carton. It was Michael, dressed in a red sweater and corduroys, not even wearing a jacket despite the cold.

“Well, you got two,” Bill said. “Why be stingy?”

Angie was really touched that Michael had showed up, too. He had his family and weekend chores, she was sure, but he took over the bed frame and made it stable, despite two screws missing from the packet. It was almost four o’clock when they were done. The space looked peculiar—not bad, but peculiar—since Angie had a few paintings hung on the walls, and a couple of good lamps but no chairs or a sofa. She had the Egyptian hippo that had been a wedding present, but no shelf to set it on. In fact, aside from the mattress and box spring, the only other piece of furniture she had was the little desk from her bedroom, the desk she’d taken from Natalie’s when she first moved in with Reid. She didn’t even have a chair for it.

Bill surveyed the rooms. “Very nice,” he said. “Very ethereal. I like the simplicity, as if you’re too spiritual to actually need to sit down.”

“I don’t need to sit down, I need to
lie
down,” Angie said.

“Don’t you want to go out to dinner?” Natalie asked the rest of them. “My treat.”

Michael had taken off first, before she could even thank him, and Bill and Laura begged off. Angie suspected that it all might have been prearranged, but she was so grateful for their help that she kissed both of them on both cheeks. “Oooh, French kissing,” Bill said, and then he left with a laugh.

Before she left, Laura stuck her head back in the doorway. “Angie, I just wanted you to know that we have a lot riding on this Jada Jackson case, so I’ve authorized more funds for it. I also contacted a friend of mine from the Yale Childhood Center to help against the social worker of Creskin’s.”

“That’s great. Thanks, Laura,” Angie said, but she couldn’t help notice the tone of voice Laura had used. It meant: “Deliver on this.” Well, she would. When Angie turned back to her mother, Natalie was looking at her with concern. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” she asked. “Just you and me?” Angie closed the door.

“No,” Angie said. “Really not. I
have
to lie down.”

“Well, let me make up your bed,” Natalie said. “I can go out for take-out.” Angie knew she wasn’t going to get rid of her mother without a fight, so she compromised.

“
I’ll
make up my bed,” she said, “and then I’ll lie in it.” It reminded her of her earlier thought about her dad and she almost smiled. “How about you get some Chinese in the meantime?”

“Okay. And to give you some time to rest, I’ll pick up some groceries. You know, just the basics. Coffee, salt, Ben and Jerry’s cookie dough ice cream.” Angie laughed and gave her mother a hug.

“Thanks,” she said, and made her way into the bedroom. After she heard the front door close, she didn’t bother to put on sheets or a pillow. She just lay down, as tired as she had ever been. She wasn’t sure how much of it was emotional, how much of it was from the pregnancy, and how much of it was simply the stress and strain of bending, lifting, and hammering, but it felt good to lie down.

She wasn’t there long before Jada and Michelle rang the bell. Jada had a covered casserole dish in her hands, while Michelle held a plate of her infamous brownies. The smell from both mixed in her tiny hallway, but Angie tried to ignore her rising nausea. Jada looked at her closely. “Are you lonesome or scared in the new place, or are we just intruding?” she asked. Angie burst into tears and then vomited on the apartment floor.

Ten minutes later they were all sitting on her bare mattress. Jada had cleaned up the floor and Michelle had cleaned up Angie. She was grateful for these two women and their company and then, completely unexpectedly, she began to tell them the rest of her story: about her stupidity, and the sickness and other symptoms she hadn’t noticed, and then…

Michelle took her hand. “Oh, Angie! This is just too much. You’re pregnant. By him? The Boston shit bird?”

“Are you sure?” Jada asked.

Angie nodded. “And do you know what I keep doing? I keep buying home pregnancy tests. As if the last eleven haven’t been accurate. It’s nuts.”

“I did that, too,” Jada told her. “With Sherrilee. It was not the right time for me to be pregnant. Remember, Michelle? Everything with Clinton was already pretty much gone. I did not need to be pregnant.”

“Man, those were some walks we took those mornings,” Michelle said. Jada nodded, and Angie watched the two women exchange a look, a look with worlds of understanding and compassion.

“You never thought about…” Angie paused. “About ending the pregnancy?”

“I thought about it every day,” Jada said. “I prayed over it. I also thought about suicide. I prayed over
that
, too.”

“You never told me,” Michelle said.

“I didn’t have those thoughts in the morning, Mich,” Jada said. “Only at night.” Jada looked at Angie. “But I had my other two to think about.” Jada paused for a moment, then took her bottom lip between her teeth. She shook her head. “Now I don’t have any of my babies with me.” She looked back at Angie. “I’m so sorry for your pain,” she said, and that started Angie crying again.

Michelle rubbed Angie’s hand. “I feel so stupid,” Angie said. “This is such bad, bad timing.”

Michelle sighed. “I
always
feel stupid. But doesn’t a lot of what happens, happen at bad times?”

“Well,” Jada said, “maybe it’s God’s time, not ours. And God always gives us choices.”

Angie looked up, blew her nose on a Kleenex that Michelle handed her, and stared into Jada’s face. The woman was in danger of losing so much. How could she believe that God was in charge?

“Hey,” Michelle said, “let me make up this bed. You got sheets?” Angie nodded. “Why don’t you take a shower?” Michelle asked. “Then you can feel fresh in nice clean sheets.” She stood up, and so did Angie. Michelle looked around. “I’d like to wash down these walls,” she said. “And the floor would look good after a real cleaning and waxing.”

Jada shook her head. “Sterilizing the world again, Michelle?” she asked.

“Hey, I like to clean, okay? A false sense of accomplishment is better than none at all.”

When Angie came back from the shower, she did feel better, though whether it was because she was about to sleep, because she was clean, or because she’d come clean was hard to tell. The two women helped her into bed as if she were an invalid. “Thanks for coming over,” Angie said, almost formally. And all three of them looked at each other before they began laughing. “My mom is stopping by with some Chinese food. She should be here soon. You want to join us?”

Both Michelle and Jada shook their heads. “I haven’t told her yet,” Angie admitted. “I don’t want to say anything until I decide what I’m going to do.”

Michelle nodded, and Jada patted Angie on the shoulder. “It’s up to you,” she said. “It’s between you and God.”

“We’ll help you either way,” Michelle said, and Angie knew they meant it.

Frank gets tough

Jenna lay face down on the bed, her arms thrown like rags to cover her head. Michelle sat beside her. Her daughter had come in from school and burst into tears without speaking before running up to her bedroom. It took all of Michelle’s self-control to hold herself back for almost ten minutes and give Jenna privacy to cry off some of her feelings.
After all
, Michelle thought,
even though I’m the only one she has to comfort her, I’m part of her pain
.