Young Wives (54 page)

“Too much?” Michelle wanted to know.

“Uh-uh. Perfect for Anthea Carstairs. Definitely a ‘
Glamour
Do,’” Angie told her.

Weighed down with their purchases, they decided to dump everything in their cars and then have a quick bite at Ruby Tuesday’s before they went home. Michelle put a lot of the stuff into the trunk of the Lexus and joined her two friends at the booth they had already secured.

She slid in beside them. “Girls,” she said, “this is a momentous day for me.” Just then the waiter interrupted and they ordered—potatoes stuffed with various things, including potatoes, beers for two of them, and club soda for the fat one. The boy who took their order thought they were just silly suburban women. He didn’t know they were anarchists.

“Okay,” Michelle reminded them after the waiter had left, “I know what I’m going to do.”

“You mean up in Massachusetts? We’ve been through that three times,” Angie said. “But maybe we should run through it again.”

“Later,” Michelle said, and her voice had a ring of authority that made them both pay attention. She was impressed with herself as she looked at the two of them. “I have an announcement to make.” She pulled a card out of her purse and slid it across the table.

CINDERELLA CLEANING SERVICE

Enchanting Housekeeping

Tiny feet, magic wands, but no prints

“Michelle! Oh my God!” Angie said.

Jada stared from the card to Michelle’s face. “It’s
perfect
for you,” she said. “You’re the Queen of Clean.”

“Better than the other kind,” Michelle grinned, delighted at their response. “And I’m not just going to do the cleaning,” she admitted. “I’m going to start training some people as soon as they answer my ads. I’ll begin by going to each house, even if I have to clean it myself. But then I’ll go with my employees. They’ll clean, but I’ll check everything. I figure I can handle four houses a day. Maybe five, if I can get the right staff. What do you think?”

“I think it’s great,” Jada said.

Angie nodded her head, a huge smile on her face. “Unbelievable. Perfect. But you left off a phone number,” she added, looking more closely at the card.

Michelle paused. “It wasn’t a mistake,” she admitted. She paused again. “It’s because I’m going to have to move. You know I will.” The three women were silent for a minute.

“It’s okay. I want to put the kids in a different school in September. This is no good for them here. We’ll adjust.”

Their potatoes arrived and Michelle pulled her credit card from her purse along with scissors she had bought for the occasion. But she also pulled out three shuttle tickets and waved them in front of the girls. “A gift from Frank,” she said, and handed them to Angie. “And now,” she said ceremoniously, “I’m going to be responsible for myself.” She cut the Visa card in half and then in quarters, and she pulled out her American Express and her MasterCard and cut them, too. She’d thought it might be frightening, but it actually felt satisfying, liberating. Soon she had a little stack of plastic bits arranged on the bread dish beside her. She lifted it up. “Thin mints, anyone?” she asked.

“Maybe a Martha Stewart mosaic,” Angie suggested.

“Forget that bitch,” she said, and hugged Michelle. “Congratulations, girlfriend,” Jada said. “You go, girl!”

“Yeah,” Michelle agreed. “And
you
pay for dinner.”

In which children are taken by surprise

Jada had already received a call from Clinton and a letter from his lawyer about the late payments. She’d lied and told him she could make them up if only she could bring the children to her place. Reluctantly Clinton had agreed. “But otherwise I go to court,” she’d said. “I got the law on
my
side!”

Jada couldn’t describe what the last visit with her children had been like. She had gotten permission to bring the children to Angie’s apartment, just so they would have a place to go that wasn’t public. Of course, she still had to have Ms. Patel along with her. Jada, like the fool she was, had looked forward to having them indoors, to making them grilled cheese sandwiches or just sitting on the sofa and watching TV. She’d gotten two videos just in case. But when Shavonne, Kevon, and the baby had come into Angie’s place, they’d sniffed around the sparsely furnished white living room like hostile cats. “Whose house is this?” Kevon wanted to know.

“It’s not a house, baby, it’s an apartment. And I’m sharing it with a friend.”

“You like her more than us?” Kevon asked, and Jada had knelt beside him and held his shoulders.

“I love you,” she said. “I couldn’t love anybody more than I love you.”

“So come back and be with us,” Kevon said.

“I want to be with you more than anything,” Jada had explained. “But your daddy went to the court and the judge decided it this way.” She knew it wouldn’t make sense to a six-year-old, but what more could she say? It didn’t make sense to her. Ms. Patel sat quietly at the very edge of the sofa.

“I don’t like this place,” Shavonne said. “It’s so small.”

“I know. But it’s bigger than the Volvo. And I can cook a little here. How about grilled cheese?” Jada asked.

“Okay,” Kevon said reasonably, though Shavonne just shrugged her shoulders. Her son scrambled to a place at the table and Jada set Sherrilee down in one of the other chairs. She realized she should have a high chair, so she took off her scarf and tied it around Sherrilee’s stomach, securing her to the seat.

“Grilled cheese, coming right up,” she’d said. “And who wants a Barney glass?”

Sherrilee waved her hand and said, “Bah-ney.”

“Who wants a Pocahontas glass?” Jada said, teasing.

“Not me,” Kevon said.

“Oh, so I guess you don’t want a Lion King one.”

“Yes, I would,” he said.

Out of the corner of her eye Jada saw Shavonne floating toward the table as if she were just a bit of dandelion fluff moving without will. No matter what Michelle said about fats, they comforted kids and adults. Jada decided she’d have a grilled cheese, too.

She cut the crusts off and made squares and triangles out of the bread. It was only after the sandwiches, the milk, and the Mallomars that things fell apart. Sherrilee had gotten the scarf unknotted, scrambled down from the chair, out of the room, and into the little hallway leading to the two bedrooms. Jada was just putting in a video when she realized it and followed her a second too late. But Sherrilee had already gotten into the guest bedroom and scooped up Pinkie and a Beanie Baby from Jenna’s pile. She came out carrying both of them. “Oh, look. It’s the bunny,” said Shavonne, and reached out for it.

“Mine,” said Sherrilee, and pulled it and the other one into her chest.

“Are they both for her?” Shavonne asked, as if they were gifts.

“Mine,” Sherrilee said again, and Jada tried to think quickly while she gently tried to pry the soft toys out of the baby’s grip. But Kevon had jumped up, run down the hall, and was now standing in the doorway.

“Look!” he called out. “Shavonne! Come look!” Kevon ran into the room and moved immediately to Frankie’s trucks. He sat down on the floor. Shavonne just stood in the doorway for a moment. Jada, holding the baby and the bloody, damaged rabbit, came up behind her. “Is this for us?” Kevon asked. “Is this our playroom?”

For a moment Jada felt paralyzed. Then Shavonne grabbed a closet door handle and pulled the door it open. She started to examine Jenna’s dresses and shoes, hanging there neatly beside her mother’s familiar clothes. “You’re living here with some
other
children,” Shavonne said, and walked out of the room.

“No! No other kids!
I
want this truck!” Kevon yelled, sitting on it with his knees almost up to his shoulders. He pushed with his feet. “Tonka, Tonka,” he said.

It had taken Jada the next forty-five minutes to pry the toys away, get the kids together, and then try to explain that these were Jenna and Frankie’s things. That Michelle and her husband were having a big fight and she and the children were staying here. “Then why can’t
we
stay here?” Kevon asked.

Shavonne looked at him as if he were stupid. “Because
she
doesn’t want us to,” Shavonne said, and Kevon began to cry. Sherrilee picked up his wail, and in the end Jada had only gotten one of the Beanie Babies away.

She had tried the best she could to explain everything all over again, but she knew it was only words. Ms. Patel, who might have helped, sat silently, neither assisting nor being detrimental. But it was a humiliation to have anyone witness this. A humiliation, as well as a heartbreak. Jada had to herd the kids out to the car, and as they got into the Volvo to drive back to the house, Shavonne said, “I hate Tonya. She’s a lazy slob. She doesn’t fool me. And
you
don’t fool me, either. I hate you, too.”

Jada had been thinking seriously about just driving off into the sunset with the kids, but with the way the visits were going, the longer she put it off, the less likely she felt the kids would want to come with her. It wasn’t that they preferred Clinton, or Tonya. It was just that they were so angry at her for abandoning them. But each time she thought of the hazards of trying to disappear with her kids, she became frightened. She saw what Michelle was up against with the criminal court system, and she wanted nothing to do with that trouble. Perhaps Barbados was the best idea. She decided that she would call the lawyer her mother and-father had recommended. It took her a little while to find his name and number—she had jotted it down on the back of a receipt and stuffed it in the side pocket of her purse—but at last she found it and called him.

He took her call right away, though there were two secretaries who ran interference for him. “It’s lucky you got me here,” he said in a clipped accent. “I’m leaving Bridgetown this afternoon. But I’ll be in the States next week. I wasn’t planning to be in New York,” he added. “Would it be possible for you to meet me in Boston? I think this is the kind of thing we need to cover in person, not over the phone.”

Jada had to believe that it was some kind of a coincidence. She had never been in Boston in her life, yet she was going for Angie’s caper. She didn’t want to act as if she were a superstitious idiot, but perhaps God really did help those who helped themselves. They made a plan to meet and she thanked him.

“Oh, no thanks necessary, Mrs. Jackson. Let’s just see if there’s some way I can help.”

“But it’s
kidnapping
,” Michelle said, her voice raised so that Jada had to shush her. Jenna and Frankie were sleeping in the other bedroom. Now the three women were sitting on Angie’s bed.

“Don’t tell me it’s illegal to be with my own kids,” Jada said, and now her voice was raised, but Michelle didn’t have the heart to shush
her
. She tried to imagine what Jada must be going through, separated from her children but forced to watch Jenna and Frankie come home from school each day, filled with the same kind of news that Shavonne and Kevon used to bring home.

“I thought the plan was to appeal,” Angie said. “Michael has really gone through a few channels to see what—”

“Forget about him and forget about it,” Jada said. “It takes too long and we might not win at the end anyway. Meanwhile my babies are being hurt every single day.”

“But I’m an officer of the court,” said Angela. “I don’t want to be a pussy, but a crime—”

“A crime is better than ruined children. When I picked up Sherrilee today, her whole body stiffened and she pulled away from me. That’s how a baby lets you know how angry she is with you.” Jada paused. “She may never forget this. She may never forgive this abandonment.” She got up off the bed and walked to the other side of the crowded room. She had worked and worked on this plan. It wasn’t without risk, but it seemed as if it would work, as long as the Volvo would.

She couldn’t wait for another run at the court, so what else was there to do? “You don’t have to help,” Jada said calmly to Angie. “Neither do you,” she said to Michelle. “But I’m going to do it anyway.”

“You can’t do something like this alone,” Angie said.

“If you won’t help me, I’ll have to,” Jada said coldly. “And I…there are organizations that assist women in my situation.”

“Jada, they’re strictly outside the law. You’d have to be underground for years. Maybe forever. And if you’re caught—and you probably would be—you’d be criminally prosecuted. You’d go to prison,” Angie said.

“Not if I leave the country,” Jada said. “I’m thinking of going to Barbados with the kids.”

Michelle took Jada’s hand. “I’ll help,” she said. “I’ll do whatever it takes. You need those kids back, and they need you. Whatever the risk.”

Jada looked at her friend. And she realized just how far her friend would go for her.

“What if you fail?” Angie asked.

“It couldn’t be worse than this,” Jada said.

“Even if you fail, at least they’ll know that you love them. That you wanted them,” Michelle said. “Isn’t that the most important thing?”

“Yes,” Jada said.

Angie sighed. “I’m in,” she said. She looked down at herself. “Do prison stripes run vertical or horizontal? What’s the first step?”

“Calling my mother again,” Jada told them.

Lights, camera, blackmail

“Do I look fat?” Angie asked, and both Michelle and Jada nodded. “Good,” Angie said. She wanted to look fat rather than pregnant. She was starting to show, and she had put on weight even before she’d started showing. But as the costume designer as well as the script writer and director, she thought it was best for her to look as unattractive and non-threatening as possible in this scene.

She’d called Lisa to confirm meeting her. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and aside from lipstick, hadn’t put on any makeup at all. Okay. What had she forgotten? She’d made reservations at a restaurant for dinner. She almost wished she hadn’t gone to Michelle’s dentist to get her tooth fixed, that way she’d be guaranteed not to overeat in front of Lisa. “Oh, wait,” she said. “I can’t forget this,” and walked to the side of her bed and picked up the empty Shreve, Crump & Lowe box.