On the Come Up

by Hannah Weyer

  Niki said, I let you take my temperature.

  AnnMarie laughed. But it gave her a boost of confidence. Nurse sounded better than janitor or french-fry maker so she called up Dean and asked to borrow the money, got herself enrolled in Caring.

  45

  It wasn’t a regular school with kids her age going eight a.m. to three p.m. Didn’t need no GED, just the tuition money up front, eight hundred dollars. There was twelve people in her group, mostly older women in their twenties and thirties, from the West Indies. She didn’t know when exactly she realized nursing meant home health aide. Same job all the women had coming in and out the house, taking care of Blessed. But there was no backing out, her mother hollering—Since when you think you better than everybody else?

  They met twice a week six–nine p.m. on Lefferts Boulevard. She got trained in how to do blood pressure, how to check vitals, how to feed somebody if they eats from the stomach, how to clean the tube so it stay sanitized. And when the eight-week program ended, she got a recommendation from the teacher and a placement at a agency that sent her out to neighborhoods and into apartment buildings all over Queens and Brooklyn. Old people mostly. They bodies fallin’ apart with something. Diabetes. HIV. High blood pressures. Depression. In pain. Slow moving. Slow talking. Most of ’em cranky to be alive and living this way. So they’d yell a lot. In her head she’d think, You screamin’ at me? For $8.50 an hour? Huh-uh. This ain’t worth it.

  But she went. ’Cause she needed the paycheck coming in. Eight in the morning go in, make they breakfast, clean dishes, clean bathroom, sweep floors. Wash clothes. Made sure they took their medication. Went to supermarket. Took them out for walks. When the day was done, she’d go home to Star and Blessed, sometimes Niki was there, all of them hanging out, waiting, on Gateway Boulevard.

  For a while she got placed with this one lady, Miss Beatrice. She was funny. A butch type, hair shaved off clean to the scalp and hefty. Wore the baggy clothes. Miss Beatrice had arthritis in her joints, had to use a walker to get around, just like Blessed. AnnMarie’d help her into a wheelchair, they’d go down to the street, stroll around. Miss Beatrice was different from the others. She was easygoing and liked to talk, they was always talking. AnnMarie would tell her things about her life and Beatrice would do the same, telling AnnMarie about her favorite Chihuahua that had died and her sister who ain’t spoke to her in ten years and the neighbor she had one time, smoke so much weed you get high just breathing in his exhale.

  Yeah, Miss Beatrice was cool. After a few weeks, AnnMarie felt they more like friends. Sometimes she start laughing about something and AnnMarie’d see her gums. Beatrice didn’t have no teeth in the front, only on the sides where the vampire teeth be at. AnnMarie’d think, Oooh, please close your mouth. That is disgusting.

  One time AnnMarie said, Miss Beatrice, what happened to your teeth? As soon as she said it though, she knew it was wrong ’cause Miss Beatrice sat back on the couch, and went quiet.

  I didn’t tell you about my teeth? She finally said. I used to have a set the dentist glued in. They fit good. I had a nice smile, real nice smile. See that picture over there? That’s me with my teeth in.

  AnnMarie crossed to the kitchen where Beatrice was pointing. She peered at a very small photograph, like the kind you use for a ID card. It was Miss Beatrice all right, with all her teeth, hair short but not butch-like, more like a cute afro, kinda spiky in the front with reddish tips.

  You like nice, Miss Beatrice.

  I got that picture took about six, seven years ago, when I got my visa renewed … That’s where I met Bertrand, Bertrand Gold. I ain’t never told you about him?

  Huh-uh. So Miss Beatrice told AnnMarie about the man Bertrand Gold who she’d met in the waiting room of the visa building and dated for a while. He’d taken her out to Coney Island to have some fun. They went on all the rides—the Scrambler and the Tilt-A-Whirl and the Cyclone, one of the rides whipping her back and forth so hard her teeth popped out her mouth, gone for good.

  AnnMarie felt the urge to laugh but didn’t. She said, Miss Beatrice that’s terrible.

  Um-hm. I’m looking around, all over the place, searching for my teeth. This fella Bertrand asks me what I’m doing. I don’t want to tell him but I do. I say, My teeth fell out and he kinda backs up, you know, like he disgusted. Then he goes and gets a hot dog. Didn’t help me. Nothing. I guess he didn’t like a girl with no teeth.

  AnnMarie watched her shoulders rise up in a shrug. But I’d just as soon known then what kinda man he is, rather than later, you know, if I fall in love …

  AnnMarie wanted to reach over, pat her shoulder, give her a hug, something. But the moment passed and Miss Beatrice was saying, They made me a new set but I lost those somewhere. So now I’m stuck with this. Smiling wide, showing off her teeth holes.

  Yeah, AnnMarie liked that lady.

  Dean would call up, he’d tell her about an audition he heard about, or he’d pass on her name to another producer or casting director—they’d call her in to try out for some little part or another. Miss Beatrice let her go in the middle of the day. She’d take the train into the city, do her thing—Beatrice would cover for her, sign her card nine to five, agency never knew.

  That’s how she got cast in another movie. Got a role playing a ex-felon at a halfway house. The main character was played by the actress Maggie Gyllen-something, Maggie Something. A white girl. She was nice, had a pretty smile. AnnMarie liked her. The director was nice too—a female director this time. AnnMarie was only there for one day but it made her feel good just doing it. Being on set again—Lights, Camera, Action.

  Go back to work, Miss Beatrice’d say, how it go? How you do? Any big stars there? Anybody I know.

  And AnnMarie would tease her. She’d say, Well you know me, Miss Beatrice. And Miss Beatrice would laugh and laugh, her teeth holes all black and shit.

  One day AnnMarie showed up to work, Miss Beatrice wasn’t there. She stood at the door knocking, calling out, Miss Beatrice, you in there? A neighbor opened up his door and said, Cops came by, took her out in handcuffs. AnnMarie said, What? The neighbor said, Yeah, cops came by, they was hauling her out the door, she was crying, saying, You hurting me. You hurting me. AnnMarie said, That’s terrible. She knew how much the arthritis hurt, the stabbing pain Beatrice got when she tried to walk. But the neighbor man was chuckling.

  That old girl finally got caught. Passing all those bad checks. She finally got caught.

  AnnMarie looked at him surprised but he didn’t say more, just closed the door.

  AnnMarie stood for a long time in front of Miss Beatrice building. Then she found a pay phone and called the agency. They said, Go home. We call you with another placement.

  AnnMarie said, Well, am I getting paid, ’cause I can’t take no time off. They said, Go home, we call you.

  46

  Two weeks and three days, AnnMarie was home with Star, that child giving her more trouble than she worth. She want, she want, she want—when they say Terrible Twos they mean it. Star getting her hands into everything, pushing a chair into the kitchen, climbing up onto the counter, getting into the bag of cookies. Pulling open the fridge, trying to lift the Fanta bottle off the shelf. What you doing, AnnMarie’d say. You can’t have that. No.

  Star’d say no right back at her. She don’t get what she want, she throw herself down, start screaming.

  Niki’d sit there, laughing. AnnMarie glaring. You getting a time-out. She’d scoop Star up off the floor, put her in the crib and close the bedroom door.

  What you doing, Blessed’ ask. Pick that child up.

  Hell, no. She need to learn.

  Star’s screams knocking against the door, Niki trying to keep a straight face.

  AnnMarie tsked. Y’all think you know better?

  She’d decided against the home-style playgroup she’d been offered by Family Services. Problem was, when AnnMarie was at work, Blessed hardly ever went out. Had her in front of the TV all day, watching Se
same Street. AnnMarie knew, almost three years old, Star need to be out, not in—walking, talking, playing with other kids. But she hadn’t been able to do it. She just couldn’t bring herself to leave Star with no strangers.

  Two weeks and three days. The agency finally called up, sent her down to Beach 96th Street, name on the card was Doris Pullman. Her hair gone to white, small and frail, her brown skin speckled with age spots. AnnMarie soon learned Miss Doris was angry. Always angry over the smallest thing. The way AnnMarie chop up the garlic, the way she stirred the food or set the wood spoon on the counter. Hovering, saying I hope you clean that up. Having her mop the floor every day. Every day. Who needs to have they floor mopped every day?

  AnnMarie’d go to work. Do chores, cook food, give meds, five o’clock go home.

  It was boring as hell.

  Some days she’d try to track Darius down. By then, she didn’t care so much about CeeCee, whether he with her or not, whether he lying or not, whether he back sticking up stores or making music. She didn’t know why—she just knew it’d been a while since she listened for his knock or his footstep on the stair. Maybe it was ’cause of Omar Epps, seeing him that day on Main Street. She’d caught a glimpse of a black man who’d done something with his life. Omar Epps. She never got to meet him but was okay with that. Dean had found a poster of him and gave it to her as a birthday present. She taped it up over her bed.

  Still. She’d take Star with her, popping the stroller over cracks and potholes, she’d say, Let’s go say hi to Grandma Darla, see where your daddy at. His mother had moved into Redfern Houses, a two-bedroom apartment over there in the grid of low-rise buildings. His sister Vanessa and her child went with them, taking one of the bedrooms. Darius got the couch. Once in a while she’d catch him home. She’d take Star out the stroller and give her a nudge, saying Go on, say what up to your father. Star holding on to her pant leg, not moving. Darius would laugh, bending to scoop her into his arms. The question of money and child support inevitably leading to a beef—fat lip, bruised arm, teeth rattling upside her head.

  Sometimes he’d pop up at Blessed’s and she’d let him in. Sometimes they even made love.

  ’Cause she wanted Star to know him.

  Like, This your father. This is your father. Even if he is a fucking retard.

  Niki’d look at AnnMarie and shake her head.

  Ways a the heart and alla that.

  flipped

  47

  She’d never kissed a girl before but Niki was kissing her now, her mother in the other room, home health aide doing something, washing dishes at the sink. Star napping right there in the crib.

  A breeze pushed through the window. She could hear the clink of metal and water running, feel Niki’s tongue swirling in her mouth but it was hard to concentrate since all she could think was how Niki her best friend and what Darius gonna say if he find out.

  Niki musta sensed something ’cause she pulled away and AnnMarie could tell she was looking at her so she opened her eyes. Niki’s face seemed different all of a sudden, unfamiliar, so AnnMarie closed her eyes and kept them closed until she felt Niki’s lips on hers again. Niki’s hand brushed her nipple, then slid down her waist until she found the spot between her legs and AnnMarie couldn’t help it—a moan came out even though she didn’t know for sure what she was feeling, she just knew it was something.

  AnnMarie! Her mother’s voice made them jump and Niki sat up quick.

  Then Star stirred in the crib, her eyes coming open, sleepy eyes looking through the bars at her mother.

  AnnMarie crossed to Star, bent and scooped her up, the child yawning.

  Blessed always be doing that, Why she gotta do that, AnnMarie said, even though inside she felt relief.

  AnnMarie!

  AnnMarie tsked, set Star on her feet and said, Go tell your grandma how she woke you. Star turned, pressing her forehead into the fold of AnnMarie’s lap and said, No.

  No, go on—go in there, stubborn, and tell Grandma how she woke you with her yelling.

  Star started to whine, shaking her head back and forth ’til Niki picked her up and carried her into the living room.

  Blessed looked up from the couch.

  Where you off to, Niki, where AnnMarie at?

  She in there. You want me to tell her to come out?

  AnnMarie leaned in the doorway and looked at her mother.

  Blessed said, I need you to go to Thriftway, get this prescription filled.

  I need to feed my daughter first.

  I’ll feed her. You get my prescription. I need to take my medicine.

  Why’nt Ondine go. It her job, ain’t it.

  Ondine act like she don’t hear. Leaning against the counter, staring at Niki, eating a bowl of something she heated up.

  Ondine said, What I want to know is if there’s a girl underneath all that boy clothes.

  Niki looked at her like, I fuck you up, bitch. Which made AnnMarie laugh and then they passing out the door, Star curled up next to Blessed, one happy family.

  They walked to the drugstore, the whole time Niki acting as if the kiss ain’t happen, talking her ear off about this girl Paloma she want AnnMarie to meet, this girl who live out by Latania’s mother, a feminine gay girl, real pretty, wear the mule shoes, skintight Calvins, how she know all these interesting people in the fashion world.

  AnnMarie kept saying, Um-hm. Okay. Yeah, that sound good. And in her head she was glad Niki wasn’t making a big deal outta it. In her head thinking she can’t believe what just happen. Niki was her best friend but now what she gonna do. Be Niki’s lover? She ain’t gay. She love Niki, but she ain’t gay. Was she?

  Plus Niki had Nadette. She knew they was still messing around even though Niki denying it ever since Dennis finally caught on and told Nadette he want out. Moved in with some other girl on the other side a Central. Some ugly chick, Nadette had said, with dyed red hair like clown hair, and a skinny ass. Sounding jealous, which made Niki stare at her hard like she stupid—the whole thing turning into one big soap opera. Coming to the corner now, she sensed Niki go quiet. Three fellas standing in front of Mott’s Famous with they red bandanas, teeth shining.

  Too late to switch up and cross the street. AnnMarie tried to act natural.

  She glanced at Niki. What you say?

  Nothing.

  You just asked me something.

  No I didn’t.

  One a them smiling at AnnMarie now, getting ready to make his play. She could see it in his eyes before the words came out: Hey there shortie, you look fine today.

  Sure she do.

  Why don’t you hold up a minute and let me talk to you.

  Mm-mm-mm …

  What’s your rush, girl.

  One a them she knew from around the way, always on one corner or another mouthing some type a bullshit, thinking he Don Juan. Same dude Darius stepped to one time when they first hook up, but the guy don’t seem to remember that now.

  Hold up now.

  She with her boyfriend.

  Ho, shit!

  Laughing, laughing.

  Excuse me sir—sir. Yeah, you … Turn around and … did you see that look? Bitch just looked at me.

  Redbone gave you the death stare.

  Shrivel your dick right up.

  Laughing, laughing.

  Their voices chased them all the way into the cool interior of the Thriftway. Down the aisle all the way to the back, AnnMarie cussing: Fucking retards. The ugly one—did you see his teeth? Horse-mouth muthafucker, Darius beat the shit outta him one time—muthafucker looked at me, bap! Darius said, What you got to say now …

  But Niki like she deaf. Eyes forward, hands in her pocket, she don’t say nothing. AnnMarie glanced at her, then left it alone.

  At the pharmacy, AnnMarie slid the script across the counter. Niki found a empty chair next to a old woman who kept looking at her sideways like she trying to figure out what she is. Sitting with her legs spread wide, black do-rag underneath her Yankees
cap, extra-large hoodie hanging loose over her shoulders.

  Coulda been a sir, like the fella said.

  AnnMarie knew Niki was used to it. Had to be. In the past year, Niki’d switched up her style, got her cinnamon curls cut into a short afro, shopping now at DJ Rays, urban style for men. Still. She looked comfortable, sitting there as if she the only one in the store, earbuds in, bopping her head to the music.

  Niki be okay. Niki tough.

  Gawd, she can’t believe they kissed. Niki’s hands running down her body like that. They’d just been talking, that’s all. AnnMarie’d been stretched out across the bed, playing with the curtain, Niki next to her, staring up at the Omar poster on her wall. She said, Why you got that up there. ’Cause he fine, AnnMarie said. It’s creepy, Niki said. Fella looking down at you while you sleeping. AnnMarie sat up, laughing, and when she turned her head, Niki’d leaned in and kissed her. Just like that. AnnMarie hadn’t pulled away, she didn’t know why, Niki’s lips on hers, lingering, soft and tender. A breeze lifting the curtain while Star napped right there in the crib.

  She wanted to tell somebody, talk it over, but she didn’t trust Teisha no more. Teisha or Sunshine. Walking into the apartment, two weeks ago, she found Darius chillin’ on the couch, sipping from a bottle a St. Ides. Teisha’d been laughing about something but she glanced up and said, Hey, AnnMarie … acting like it ain’t no thing, him sitting there. She wondered why they let him in, acting like they friends. Behind his back, they was always talking shit, how he ain’t worth her time, telling her he a dog. She need to get herself a new man. Asking why she let him beat her when he don’t even provide.

  She hadn’t stayed long and when she got back home, she thought how things had changed. How the hours and days and months had passed in that walk-in, how he’d held her down. Couldn’t tell if she still loved him. Somewhere in the periphery, he was hovering.

  In the Thriftway, lady behind the counter called her mother’s name.