“She knew I had your new address,” I said, and I swear my face got even hotter. “I told her.”
“Oh.”
I could tell she was embarrassed now, too, even though she didn’t say anything. I mean, after the “Oh” she didn’t say anything. But in the quiet I could sort of feel her embarrassment. I can’t really explain it any better than that.
It wasn’t really like me to stand up for myself in a conversation, but I figured it was going to have to be—you know, like, going forward I was going to have to change that. So I took a big, deep breath and I told her what I thought about her babysitting deal. It was hard, but I just did it anyway.
“Here’s the thing,” I said. And then I had to stop and breathe again. “I really love Etta, and I know you need somebody to take care of her, and I get that you can’t afford to pay somebody, but it isn’t really fair to ask me to do it for free.”
I stopped and breathed some more, and thought about all the other parts of it I needed to say, and tried to figure out how I would say them.
I mean, where could I possibly even sleep in this neighborhood? And would I have to walk to her house every day, or would I need to take the bus because I had to sleep far away? And who was going to pay for all that bus fare? And then I might be sleeping in a place where I was all alone, and I wouldn’t have people like Phyllis and the middle-aged guys looking after me, and that was a scary thought.
But then I started thinking maybe at least while I was here during the day I could take showers and eat food out of her refrigerator, and that was something. But maybe she couldn’t afford to have me eating all that food, and I couldn’t figure out how to ask if that was allowed.
So all those thoughts were making it hard for me to talk again, so I picked up that mostly eaten piece of pizza again and took a big bite, just to have something to do. And while I was doing that, she talked.
“I wasn’t thinking of you doing it for free, exactly. I was thinking of it in return for room and board.”
The pizza wasn’t nearly chewed yet, but I stopped chewing it, because I didn’t know what she meant. And I really, really wanted to know what she meant, the sooner the better, but I couldn’t talk around all that pizza, and it just sort of turned into this big dead lump that kept me from doing anything I wanted to do.
Then I made myself chew it up and swallow it, fast, because all that stalling was getting me nowhere.
“What room and board?” I said after I managed to swallow that half-chewed bite. It hurt going down. “Room and board where?”
“Here. Room and board here. I thought you knew.”
“How could I know that?”
“I’m sorry. I guess I wasn’t making myself clear. I thought you knew. I meant you would live here and babysit during the day. What did you think I meant when I said I would help you study for your GED in the evenings?”
“Well. I guess I just thought . . . you know. We’d study. And then you’d walk me to the door and say goodbye.”
I looked up quick at her face, then away again. It was really fast, so I’d already looked away again before I could really think about what I saw there, but she looked kind of hurt and sad, like she couldn’t believe I’d think that about her.
“I wouldn’t be able to offer you your own room,” she said. “There’s only one bedroom, and I thought Etta and I could share it. The couch folds out, so that would be your bed here in the living room. I know it’s not much, but there’s a half bathroom right there.” She pointed to a door. “So you wouldn’t have to come through the bedroom at night if you needed to use the restroom. But you would have to share that main bathroom with me anytime you wanted to take a bath or a shower. And you’d have to fold the bed back into the couch every morning. I know it’s not much. But it’s what I have to offer you right now. You’d eat normally every day. And if the GED doesn’t sound good enough, I totally understand. We could do better if you want. I’ll quit my job and get a night job and then you could go to school during the day. It’ll be hard, but . . .”
Then she just stopped talking, and it sort of seemed like she might never start again.
We just sat there, not looking at each other. Almost like we were afraid to look at each other, and I was thinking it was weird to think of two people living together when they were afraid to look at each other. But I figured I would do it anyway, because we could probably learn to look at each other if you gave us enough time, and anyway I had to at least see if I was right. And besides, I figured we could both look at Etta in the meantime, and that was something. We had that little girl kind of tying us together in a way that just might work.
I opened my mouth to talk, and I had this long, achy pain all of a sudden, all down through my chest, but it wasn’t really a bad pain. I know that probably sounds weird, but it’s the truth. It was like what was happening, or at least what I thought was happening, was so big it made my heart stretch until it hurt.
“So you’re actually asking me to live here . . . you know . . . like I was . . .” It was a hard thing to say, but I knew I had to spit it out, because if I was wrong about it I needed to know that right away. “Like I was your family,” I said when I could make myself say it.
“Yeah,” she said. “That’s what I’m offering. If you’ll accept it.”
“Starting when?”
“As far as I’m concerned, starting when you walked through the door an hour ago.”
I felt the skin on my forehead wrinkle down. “I have to go back and get my stuff.”
“No,” she said. “Don’t even go back there. Please. I don’t want to risk losing you again. It’s not that much stuff.”
“But it’s the stuff you bought for me,” I said, which was embarrassing, because I was totally letting on that the stuff meant more to me because it was from her. Too late, though. That cat was out of the bag.
“I’ll buy it for you again,” she said.
“But you said you hardly have any money.”
“I don’t have money for childcare,” she said. “I have money for a sweatshirt and a hairbrush. Now, come on. Eat another slice of pizza. Everybody in this house gets enough to eat. Then I’ll show you how this couch folds out.”
I knew it was almost midnight because I could see the clock on the microwave in the kitchen from my bed. It was a good bed. Comfortable and soft, but not soft enough to give a person a backache. Just sort of welcoming soft.
I was lying there on my back, with my hands behind my head, in a huge, long T-shirt that Brooke gave me to sleep in, but I wasn’t sleeping at all. The moon was nearly full, and the light from it was pouring in through the window because I hadn’t pulled the curtains shut. We were on the third floor, and there was nobody to see in, so I hadn’t bothered. I could have gotten up and closed them to make it darker, but I sort of liked the light from the moon. It made shadows of the mountains of boxes in the middle of the room, like real mountains and valleys but with straighter edges.
The door to the bedroom was open, and I thought it was nice that Brooke had left it that way, because it made me feel like she trusted me, or at least like she was willing to try. I’d sort of thought she would lock me out of her room every night or something like that.
So I guess it seemed like we were off to a pretty okay start.
I could hear Etta snoring, which was funny. It always made me laugh, or almost laugh, that a girl so little could have a snore so big. I couldn’t hear Brooke snoring, so I didn’t know if she was asleep or not.
I said her name. “Brooke.” I said it just loud enough, or at least I hoped it was just loud enough—not so loud that it would wake the baby, but I hoped it would be something she could hear if she was awake. “You asleep?”
“No,” she said. And it was just that same right amount of loudness.
“I’m worried about something.”
“Okay,” she said. “Talk to me about it.”
“What if I get on your nerves?”
“So what
if you do? I might get on your nerves, too.”
“So . . . wouldn’t that be bad?”
I heard her sigh a big sigh. It must have been big, because I could hear it from the next room.
A minute later she came out and sat on the edge of the couch bed with me. I could hear the springs creak under her when she sat down, and I liked the sound of it, because I think it sounded to me like not being all by myself.
She said, “Remember when I told you about how I wanted two kids and I wanted them in my early twenties?”
I said, “Yeah.”
Because I remembered pretty much everything she’d said to me and everything I’d said to her, ever, probably because it all seemed important.
“So if I’d gotten my wish on that, as you pointed out at the time, I’d have a teenager just about your age right now. And don’t you think she’d get on my nerves? Of course she would. I know lots of people my age with teenagers, and they drive each other crazy. Most of the time. Any time you live with another person there’s always some level of driving each other crazy. I mean, I hear what you’re saying. You’re worried we won’t get along. But when you have a child, there’s no guarantee you’ll get along.”
“But they’re blood family.”
“Not necessarily. One family that I know, the boy is adopted.”
“But I’m not adopted by you,” I said.
I think I was trying to get closer to the thing that was worrying me, even though I didn’t really want to go all the way there.
As it turned out, though, she went there for me, so then I didn’t have to, which I thought was nice.
“So, the fear is . . . what? That if things get tough between us and we’re not getting along, I’ll just dump you again?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That.”
She sighed again, and it sounded extra loud from this close. Also I could see the shape of her making a shadow in the light from the moon, and it was nice because it looked like the shape of somebody I knew.
“Tell you what,” she said. “I don’t have a crystal ball and I can’t predict the future, but I’ll promise this much. I’ll make you a solid commitment. No matter what happens, and no matter how we get along, you can stay for two years. Until you’re eighteen. And then, if we both think we’re better off apart, I’ll help you get a job and a place of your own. I’ll even put that in writing if you want me to.”
“No, that’s okay, I believe you,” I said, because I really did believe her, because I knew she wouldn’t offer to write it down if she didn’t mean it.
Or that was part of why anyway.
The other part of it was that sometimes you just have to take a chance on something, because otherwise you definitely end up with nothing. You just have to be a brave girl sometimes, like I told the baby a thousand times that night.
“Good. Now stop worrying and get some sleep.”
And she got up to go, but before she walked away she gave me a kiss on the forehead, like mothers do with their very own kids.
Before she could get back to her room, I said something to Brooke I’d been meaning to say. “You have to promise me you’ll call your mother. Maybe not right away but sometime.”
She stopped in the doorway and looked back at me, and I couldn’t really see her face all that well, but I knew she was a little bit confused, because I could feel it.
“Why would you want me to do that?”
“Because she’s not the worst mother in the world.”
“She’s not the best.”
“No, she’s not, I get that, but she’s not the worst, and I know you know what I mean.”
She just stood a minute, and then she opened her mouth to talk. I thought she was going to tell me to mind my own business, so what she said really surprised me.
“Okay, I promise. Now stop worrying about everything in the world and get some sleep.”
I mostly stopped worrying. For the time being, anyway. Later I would worry some more, but life is just like that and nobody can exactly save you from it.
I didn’t really get much sleep because I was busy lying there and memorizing the ceiling in my new home, and the way the silence felt, and feeling the place where her lips pressed down on my forehead.
It was all like something I didn’t really want to sleep through.
But then I opened my eyes and it was morning, my very first morning in my new home, so I guess I really did get a little sleep after all.
BOOK CLUB QUESTIONS
The title Brave Girl, Quiet Girl references some poignant scenes throughout the book. In what way is this literary phrase used as a central theme?
The love between mother and daughter is highlighted in the three main relationships, each one fraught with its own challenges to finding love and acceptance. What are the commonalities that each relationship struggles with?
Early in the book, Brooke says the following: “Well, you know how it is. We either grow up to be our mother or we make a solemn vow to the universe to be her polar opposite.” Do you believe this to be true? How does Brooke’s attitude color her relationship with her own mother?
When Brooke plans to drive to the movie theater with her daughter, Etta, Brooke’s mother begs her to use her car for safety. However, it’s because Brooke has the Mercedes that the car is stolen. Do you believe that it was either woman’s fault that this happened, and could it have been prevented?
Both Brooke’s mother and Molly’s mother have very ingrained beliefs about life. In referring to her daughter, Molly’s mother says, “There’s no welcome in my home for the devil,” while Brooke’s mother believes the whole world is a dangerous place. What do you think is the underlying emotion driving both of these women’s viewpoints?
When Bodhi takes off to find food for Molly and Etta while they’re in hiding, he’s arrested for stealing about seven dollars’ worth of food. How does this reflect on the legal system and the problem of teen homelessness in the US? In what other ways did this book shine a light on this issue?
What does it reveal about Molly’s character when, despite the risks and having everything to lose, she puts herself in harm’s way to help a lost child?
After Brooke does what she considers the right thing with Molly, bringing her to her mother’s home, Molly spends the night in the garage. Brooke wakes, only to find that her mother has thrown the homeless teen out, and now Molly is missing. How does this pivotal point trigger a transformation in Brooke’s character?
What do you think finally changed Brooke’s mind about allowing Molly to move in with them and become part of her family? Do you think it was the most beneficial decision for all involved?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2019 Douglas Sonders
Catherine Ryan Hyde is the author of more than thirty-five published and forthcoming books. An avid hiker, traveler, equestrian, and amateur photographer, she has released her first book of photos, 365 Days of Gratitude: Photos from a Beautiful World.
Her novel Pay It Forward was adapted into a major motion picture, chosen by the American Library Association for its Best Books for Young Adults list, and translated into more than twenty-three languages for distribution in over thirty countries. Both Becoming Chloe and Jumpstart the World were included on the ALA Rainbow List, and Jumpstart the World was a finalist for two Lambda Literary Awards. Where We Belong won two Rainbow Awards in 2013, and The Language of Hoofbeats won a Rainbow Award in 2015.
More than fifty of her short stories have been published in the Antioch Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Virginia Quarterly Review, Ploughshares, Glimmer Train, and many other journals; in the anthologies Santa Barbara Stories and California Shorts; and in the bestselling anthology Dog Is My Co-Pilot. Her stories have been honored in the Raymond Carver Short Story Contest and by the Tobias Wolff Award and nominated for Best American Short Stories, the O. Henry Award, and the Pushcart Prize. Three have been cited in Best American Short Stories.
She is founder and former presiden
t (2000–2009) of the Pay It Forward Foundation and still serves on its board of directors. As a professional public speaker, she has addressed the National Conference on Education, twice spoken at Cornell University, met with AmeriCorps members at the White House, and shared a dais with Bill Clinton.
For more information, please visit the author at www.catherineryanhyde.com.
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