Debts

by Tammar Stein

  “I promised that I would do what he asked,” she says, taking a shaky breath. “One thing. Whenever he asked it.” She swipes at her cheeks, smearing the black lines across her face. It is surreal to see my perfect sister ruined with tears and paint.

  “That’s pretty open-ended,” I say. What could she possibly do for a Mafia hacker that was worth millions?

  “I told him I wouldn’t do anything that hurt our family or anyone we knew.” She crosses her arms defensively.

  “And when is … is …” It’s hard to say it out loud. Like a joke. “… is this hacker person getting his one favor?”

  “He just did,” she says, her skin matching her dress as she swallows convulsively, greasy with a film of sweat. “He cashed in his chip this morning.”

  A nervous tremor runs through me despite my skepticism. “What did he want?”

  “It’s none of your business,” my sister says in an empty voice. She turns away, returning to her earlier position, back to the door, hunched over her desk, her vertebrae jutting in a skeletal column through skin and indecipherable Japanese characters. “Get rid of that money, Leni.”

  I walk over and place a hand on her back. Her skin is oddly chilled and clammy.

  “Natasha, what hap—”

  “Get rid of it, Lenore,” she snaps as she turns to me, her spittle flying and hitting my face. I stumble back. “It’s got blood on it.” She touches a hand to her lips, as if to take back the words, but I see the truth in her eyes.

  “Natasha,” I whisper. “What did you do?”

  But she won’t say anything else.

  As they left the shop behind, she couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling lurking heavy in her chest. She checked on the baby, lifting the canopy for a quick peek, to see that sweet little sleeping face again. To make sure she was okay.

  Motherhood had had all sorts of surprises for her. The fierce mama-bear love, the constant need to see the baby, to hold her, to feel her tiny chest rising and falling, was a huge one. Sometimes she would slip out of bed at night and creep down the hall, only to ease down silently next to the crib and watch the baby in the dim light from the blue-moon night-light.

  She glanced at Craig: husband, father, laid-off accountant.

  He wore his now-familiar look of stress and worry. Everything had happened together. The baby was born and a month later, Craig was out of a job. They had said it was a blessing; he could spend this time with his new daughter. So many fathers didn’t. They figured he’d find something within a couple of months, and it was wonderful to have another set of hands when spit-up came out of one end while the other end squirted impossibly foul matter and the baby screamed like someone was performing surgery without anesthesia on her. They’d laughed in drunken, sleep-deprived jags, going through baby boot-camp together, and she’d pitied other couples who missed out on this. Gazing over their sleeping newborn together, melting over those fleeting, toothless sleep-smiles.

  Except the weeks turned to months and there were no interviews, no job offers. Craig began applying for jobs below his previous level, willing to take salary cuts. And still, no job offers. It wasn’t about them anymore. They were parents now. It left her with a hollow feeling of panic. What kind of parents can’t provide for their child? Even though they’d agreed she’d stay at home for at least a year, she started submitting her résumé, not that she had any better luck. They even discussed moving in with his parents, just until one of them found a job. When they drove by the Powerball billboard and saw someone had won the jackpot, both of them couldn’t help thinking how much they could have used that money. It was hard to stop the daydreams about how they could use that money.

  Fantasy aside, they needed to decide what they were going to do. But all she could think about was that woman who had come into the tea shop after them. She shivered again, though the day was blazing hot.

  “She was weird, right?” she said.

  And Craig, bless him, knew exactly what she meant.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Freaky.”

  “She really scared me. When I see people like that, I get scared that they want to hurt Libby.” She shivered again, feeling so off-kilter she had to stop and peek through the sun visor on the stroller to check on the baby again, as if some evil spirit could have snuck into her little carrier and spirited her away.

  “We would never let anything bad happen to her,” Craig said firmly, her practical and pragmatic sweetie.

  They were silent after that, he pushing the stroller, she walking at his side, both taking occasional sips of their teas. They walked all the way to the pier and then to its end, where Tampa Bay stretched out and the fishermen fished with their endless patience.

  “We have to let the house go, don’t we?” she finally said, leaning against the railing, her back to the million-dollar view as she looked at her husband and daughter.

  “Yeah,” he said. “We do.”

  “And then it’s off to Illinois. And your parents.”

  “Yeah. At least, for a little while.”

  She felt an aching sadness at the thought of leaving their bungalow with its beautiful views and happy memories. But it was the right decision. They were parents now.

  “I love you,” she said, and leaned over to him, touching her lips very gently to his cheek. “And Libby is lucky to have you for a daddy.”

  Craig smiled, his eyes sad and sweet. “Right back at you.” They hugged each other, leaning into each other’s strength.

  Then Libby woke up, hot and fussy, and soon they were busy changing a soiled diaper and fixing a bottle, and then the heat was too much. They pitched their drinks into the trash and headed home.

  Tammar Stein is the author of the novella Debts, as well as the young adult novels Kindred, Spoils, High Dive, and Light Years, which was an ALA-YALSA Best Book for Young Adults, a Virginia Readers’ Choice, and a Texas Tayshas High School Reading List Selection. She lives in Florida with her family and a bilingual dog. Visit her at tammarstein.com.