by Hannah Weyer
Leandra went to get a sonogram, Miss Westwood said. I don’t know where the other girls are.
AnnMarie said, You okay, Miss Westwood?
I’m okay.
Ain’t you sleeping?
Not so well.
Maybe you pregnant too, AnnMarie joked.
No, AnnMarie, I’m not pregnant. I’m disappointed. I expect you girls to accomplish something here. Now take out your math sheet from yesterday and let’s go over the answers.
AnnMarie dug through her backpack, found the worksheet bunched up at the bottom.
She looked at it. I ain’t finished mines.
So finish it now, Miss Westwood said sharply.
What she tripping for, AnnMarie thought.
She tried to catch Crystal’s eye but that girl on another planet.
At Darius’ house that evening, she sat at the kitchen table with Vanessa, watching two grown men carry first his turntables, then his speakers, up from the basement and out the front door.
What they doing, AnnMarie said quietly.
Vanessa shrugged. They been after him for a while. Phone ringing off the hook.
Who been after him, AnnMarie asked.
Z-Sounds. He got his shit on installment. Fuck if he making the payments.
AnnMarie felt a stab of panic. She stood, crossing to the basement door and listened. Installment? He never told her nothin’ about installments. She thought he was fine with money. That they was fine. She heard his footsteps now and backed away as he strode past her and out the front door, the look on his face silencing her.
Vanessa got up and stretched. Then she went outside to watch. Ann Marie followed.
They were loading Darius’ equipment into a black van. Another homie leaned against the driver door, hands folded loose over his crotch, just leaning and waiting, his eye on Darius who stood barefoot on the front porch.
Vanessa sucked her teeth.
Shut yo’ mouth, Darius said. Why you even standing here?
Fuck you. I live here.
Vanessa was further along than AnnMarie, in her seventh month, and her sweatshirt rose up over her belly showing skin.
Look at you, y’all like some ghetto ho, Darius said as he went past into the house.
Vanessa tsked. At least I ain’t getting repo’d.
AnnMarie turned, watching the van pull away with the equipment inside. She could feel the stillness settle on her shoulders, the van disappearing around the corner, Vanessa, quiet now in Darius’ absence.
She went down to the studio room to ask him why. To say what happened, baby.
All the wires pulled loose from the walls, laying on the floor like black snakes uncoiled and lifeless.
Darius was putting on his shoes. He said, Don’t say nothing.
AnnMarie tsked, frowning.
Did I? Did I say something, she asked, watching him. Seeing all the pent-up, unspoken inadequacy written as anger across his face. Things gone wrong and nothing to do to stop it. ’Cept a fight, maybe. A fight be good for something. She felt it coming.
The next day, Miss Westwood was happy again, six girls at the metal table when AnnMarie walked in. Camille was saying, Shoot, I get me a C-section. No way I’ma be ripped to shreds. My va-geegee too precious.
Pietra laughed, then groaned, laying her cheek flat on the table. I already got these pains back here, she said.
Miss Westwood reached over and rubbed her lower back, saying, Listen girls, her voice rising above the chatter, giving life is a beautiful thing. A woman’s body is made to do this.
Yeah, but I ain’t no woman, Camille said, I’m still a child, Miss Westwood, and I ain’t gonna let no baby split me in two. Hell, no … Camille flounced down next to the teacher and leaned into an embrace.
Don’t worry, you’ll be ready, Miss Westwood said. Her eyes rested on AnnMarie for a moment but she didn’t say nothing about the fat bruise on her cheek.
After the repo van had gone, Darius had chased her up the stairs, banging her up against the wall. Stop, Darius, why you buggin? she’d said but his backhand slap knocked her silly, sent a flash a pain across her face. White dots popping, face on fire. For a minute, she’d been blind.
Muthafucka. She’d picked a point on the floor and made her blurry eye go there, even with his mouth right up to her ear. You think you all that, up in my business all the time. Then his hand went around her throat and squeezed. What you got to say now.
Maybe she don’t notice, AnnMarie thought. Skin dark chocolate, maybe she don’t see. Then again, this a school after all, not a police station.
Wings: Insect wings are found in many different shapes and sizes. They are used for flying, but also to attract a mate or hide from predators.
AnnMarie tried to focus but couldn’t. Fuck him. Punk-ass muthafucka. Think he the bomb. Think he it. Fuck you, she thought. You no longer the father a my child. I do this my own damn self.
Most insects have two pairs of wings.
Most insects have two pairs of wings.
Most—AnnMarie stood up, walked out the classroom and down the hall to the drinking fountain. She took a sip a water, wandered down to the front door and looked out the window see what the weather like. Sun out, tha’s good. Maybe she skip out after lunch. She went back to the drinking fountain, stared up at the bulletin board. Somebody had posted a flyer. Right in between ARE YOU EXPECTING? and TEEN SUPPORT GROUP.
MOVIE TRYOUTS!!
GIRLS WANTED.
ALL SHAPES AND SIZES.
NO MODEL TYPES.
COME AS YOU ARE.
AnnMarie stared and stared at that thing.
Two days later, she woke up not knowing where she was. She thought she was on a school bus, rumbling over some rough road somewhere way out there, far, far out at the edge of an island, the water glistening so bright she thought her eyeballs would split open but when she let her lids peel apart, the world was dark, everything around her dark and sleepy. She felt the bed beneath her, she was in her own bed, bladder full. She didn’t want to get up so she snuggled deeper, looking at the clock radio. Three o’clock in the morning. That’d been happening lately. Three o’clock, she’d wake up with that anxious feeling. Couldn’t go back to sleep.
She tried to push it aside but there it was: I don’t want this baby. I do not want this baby. Usually she’d roll toward Darius, pull his arm over her waist, find his heart beating there and she’d be okay. But she hadn’t seen him since the fight. Two days. She wondered what he doing.
She sat up in bed, peeled back the curtain and looked out at the gray night. Below her, she watched the streetlamp flicker. A woman came around the corner and passed beneath it, then suddenly ran off in a sprint. Was she running from something or to something? AnnMarie couldn’t tell. There’d been no sound, no other person. What you running for, AnnMarie thought.
She reached over the side of the bed and felt around on the floor, found her backpack, pulled out the flyer she’d taken off the wall.
She read it again. She wondered where 404 18th Street was. Flyer said Manhattan. She’d never been to Manhattan before. She wondered if they needed girls who could sing.
16
She’d fallen asleep. Took a while, but she’d drifted off again and when she finally woke it was already past noon. She decided to skip out on Ida B. for the day, get some singing practice in. She called up Niki. Niki said, We going to Teisha’s.
When AnnMarie walked in, Niki and Nadette were in the kitchen, laughing about something. Where Sunshine at, AnnMarie asked. Y’all want to practice?
Teisha looked her up and down, How much you weigh now?
AnnMarie shrugged, I don’t know. Why, I look fat?
Nah, nah … but why don’t you get yourself some new clothes. You look mad sloppy.
Nadette bust out laughing. Niki too, snickering behind her hand, eyes glassy like she stoned underneath her Yankees cap.
Fuck all y’alls.
Teisha tsked. Just ’cause you pregnant, no reaso
n to look like that.
AnnMarie slumped. Angry now, she sat silent.
Teisha came up behind her and started playing with her hair. I’m just messin’ with you, AnnMarie. You should get your hair done, though. Sunshine do it for you. Y’all hear? She got a chair at Tina’s. She doing locks, twists, twist outs, she cut that girl Allison, she gave her this cute style like a pixie ’cept kinda spiky. It be mad retro.
AnnMarie asked for a glass of milk, then ate some cookies Teisha found in the cupboard. Nadette and Niki walked out, saying they be back and AnnMarie started looking at hairstyles in a magazine. Then Dennis walked in with Darius and AnnMarie ignored him.
Y’all hear what happened to Wallace, Dennis said.
Who Wallace, which one, Teisha asked.
Wallace, what live at 12-50. He got mowed down last night in Redfern.
AnnMarie looked up. Wallace …? You mean the boy go by Stack?
She heard Darius say, Word. Wallace Stack. Blam blam, mowed him down.
Nah, Wallace too sweet, I like that boy, what happened? Teisha asked.
They say he got mistook for someone. They apologizing now. Sorry muthafuckers.
Nah, nah, nah … I heard it some peewee, tryin’ to show he got game.
AnnMarie stopped listening, felt her heart drop into her stomach, a sensation like the floor shifting as she stood and moved to the door. She felt Darius’ hand on her elbow and he was following her into the hallway, Teisha’s voice coming across the room, Peewee? What peewee …
They saying it was Levon’s brother. How he want a rep.
In the hallway, Darius said, Where you going.
Stop, Darius, I’m going home.
He said, Come on now … I came to find you. You don’t believe me? Look what I brought you.
He lifted up a plastic bag and held it out to her. She felt tears burning. She shifted, looking away. He shook the bag, coaxing. Come on now …
Her eyes went to the open bag and she saw the oranges. Oranges for her cravings.
Still she shrugged, fronting like she don’t care, but she could feel herself giving in. Darius’ arm went around her shoulder. He said, Forgive me baby. I don’t wanna fight with you.
She closed her bedroom door, slipped off her jeans and crawled under the covers, his bare legs warm against hers. He leaned in, kissing her softly. She said, You going to birth class with me? He said, Yeah. Yeah, I go.
It’s sad about Wallace, she whispered. I still can’t believe it, you know we was in choir together … Word, Darius said, need to light a candle. They lay for a moment, AnnMarie drifting, thinking about the he got shaved into his fade, how she’d thought it was a clef symbol. Then she felt Darius’ lips on hers, his hand moving between her legs, pressing gently, the way she liked. She let him roll her onto her side, lifting her leg from behind and they did it that way because there was the baby to think about.
First day of Lamaze class, she went looking for him. His sister Vanessa said he went to Raymel’s. She walked the four blocks, took the elevator to the seventh floor, Raymel said, He with Big Mike. They working something out.
Well, let me get Big Mike number then, AnnMarie said.
When’d you get so bossy.
AnnMarie just looked at him.
Big Mike don’t give out his number.
She tsked. Oh, so you his secretary now.
Fuck him. AnnMarie took the bus out to the rec center by herself, couples already seated on yoga mats they had spread out in a semicircle. Girls in front, fellas cupping them from behind. Couple girls there with they mother or auntie, somebody. At least no one was giving her the eyeball. The teacher was smiling, going around, passing out a handout. She saw the boy Terrell from up the block walk in with a girl. Dang, she didn’t know he gonna be a father. He was only a year ahead of her in school. She waited for their eyes to meet but he was busy, settling in behind his girl, looking nervous as hell.
She liked the instructor with her big voice and warm hands, she liked how she’d sat behind her and showed them all how to breathe. She said, All of you sitting here today need to get quiet inside, find the peace within you, we’re going to learn many things during our time together … AnnMarie had drifted off at that point, her mind wandering to the future, to her due date, to Darius … Would he still claim her, would she ever sing again and then there was no stopping the tears from gushing out, the instructor’s arms holding her, rocking her back and forth, saying, Go on now. It’s okay. Breathe. Go on and breathe.
After class, AnnMarie took the bus home. She stared out the window at the dark sky and the passing sidewalks where the people was. Everybody heading home. She felt tired from all that crying and leaned her head on the glass. She wondered who the girl was with Terrell. She looked familiar, but AnnMarie couldn’t place her. Maybe she was Katelyn’s cousin. Everybody always related to somebody. You somebody’s sister or brother or cousin. You a half sister, half brother, half cousin. Bloods in front of the White Castle. Look at Amani’s brother over there. That peewee trying to act like he in the block. Wallace gone … She need to light a candle. Light a candle for Wallace.
House party. Block party. Rec center. Boardwalk. Bench. Storefront. You see it. Everybody making plans. You make plans.
She got off the bus at Central, walked over to the fruit stand. Bought a bag of oranges. Used food stamps ’cause no one around to see.
17
That Saturday she showered, lotioned, powdered, then inspected herself in front of the mirror. She looked like a damn pear, all that flesh sagging around her middle, no tight melon ball like the other girls, but her breasts were bigger and she kinda liked that. She lifted them up, holding each one in a hand, then stepped up to the mirror and studied the dark widening of her nipples.
She put on her favorite blouse with the cap sleeves and lace around the collar, looked in the mirror, changed outta that, put on a T-shirt instead. Too sloppy. She put the blouse on again, left a extra button undone. That looked better. Put on the black stretch jeans that stayed up without the button fastened. She sat on the bed and laced up her Tims, put on the down vest and looked in the mirror. Maybe no one could tell. Twenty-one weeks, she could still fake it.
She folded up the flyer, put two oranges in her book bag and walked out the door, didn’t tell her mother where she going, just went. Up the block to Mott Avenue, over six blocks to the subway, she’d passed the entrance a million times but had never gone through the doors. ’Cept the one time when they first moved to Far Rock, her and Blessed. Riding all the way down from the Bronx, getting off at the end of the line. Other than that, she’d never had a reason.
She went down three flights of stairs, all the way down into the station, hesitated, then dropped a handful of change into the slot, asked the station man for a token.
She rode six stops without anyone getting on the car, ’cept a mother who look like she need a bath and four kids who climbed onto the seats next to her and sat mad quiet, overdressed in winter coats zipped up to their chins. One of the little boys turned, stretching his neck up to peer out the window but in a flash the mother whipped her hand across the others, yanked him back down and said, Sit up straight and act right.
AnnMarie turned and looked out the window. All the low-rise buildings out there, the empty lots with trash in piles, fences tipped on their sides like they been stepped on by a giant. Beyond that a cargo plane rose up, its wing tipping downward as it curved across the sky, and then without warning the subway car was gliding across water, and what a sight it was, so low were the tracks to the bay that it felt to AnnMarie they were defying gravity, floating instead of sinking into the depths of that wide blue water, soaring along in a box made of steel. Then the train car surged forward and plunged underground and AnnMarie had to take a couple of deep breaths right then because she thought she might throw up. She felt queasy, that queasy feeling like fear. Like, what the fuck she doing, what the fuck she think she doing.
Three days ago, she’d stood in
front of Miss July’s office ’til she got up the nerve, then went in and said, Miss July, what this be about? Miss July slid her glasses down her nose and looked at the flyer. She said, Oh, yes. A nice young man from the movie asked permission to put it up. I told him this was a school for pregnant girls but he didn’t seem to mind. Are you going to try out, AnnMarie?
AnnMarie had stood there thinking, then said, They came all the way out here from Manhattan?
Miss July spread the subway map across her desk and showed her where to go. You don’t even need to transfer. Just take the A train all the way—you see?
At Liberty Avenue, three Spanish-looking people got on and a family of Indians, the mother wearing one a those bright flowy-type dresses, silk draped over her shoulder, red dot on the forehead. Wonder what that dot mean, AnnMarie thought, wonder where they going, all dressed up, the man too, silk shirt hanging to his knees, little girl dressed just like her mother.
By Utica, the car was half full of Saturday shoppers. Saturday workers, everybody going somewhere. She felt hungry all of a sudden, so she pulled out one of the oranges, peeled it and ate it piece by piece ’til it was gone. She tried to picture herself in the room, what she’d say to the people there. I’m AnnMarie Walker. My name’s AnnMarie Walker. In the 7th grade I sang “I Will Always Love You” at my school talent show. IS 53. You ever hear a the Night Shade, she’d say. We a singing group.
Hoyt–Schermerhorn
Jay Street
High Street
Broadway–Nassau
Chambers
Canal
She felt movement in her belly, was that a fart coming on? Dang. The oranges be giving her gas. Chinese lady glancing at her. What the fuck you looking at, oh, she talking to the other one, sitting across the way. AnnMarie glanced around the car, three, four, five—where all these Asians come from?
Spring
West 4th
14th Miss July had said 14th and as the train pulled into the station, AnnMarie saw the number 14 painted on the wall and quickly stood up, filing out with a whole mess a people moving out the doors and onto the platform.