Take a Load Off, Mona Jamborski

by Joanna Franklin Bell

  "Um," I say. "Yes, yes I believe that's right. But I'll be home for a lot of that."

  He nods again. "They caught Javier."

  "You didn't tell me!" Hallie leaps to her feet. "When? Oh my god!"

  "Well, you weren't around then," he answers. "I hadn't met you yet, so you didn't count. Gyeeh. Earlier this week." He cants his body microscopically in my direction, which is his way of addressing someone new. He actually shifts his feet, rather than just swivel his eyes. "El stupido came back to try to rip off someone else he had delivered to, and they were a little quicker on the uptake than you were. No offense," he adds, glancing at me for a second.

  Hallie punches his arm. "Dum dum," she scowls. "You told me about him. I think I'd get the follow-up, you know?"

  Moises shrugs. "You're getting it now."

  "Turd."

  He smiles and pinches the little overflow at her waist, and she yelps and hits his arm again. Her boots creak as she collapses into the chair again. "God, I'm so relieved," she says. "You must be, too."

  I smile. "Vindicated, more like," I say. "I wasn't worried about him coming back, to me, but I am glad he's caught." I can't believe how glad I am, actually, now that it's sinking in. That asshole. I wonder if I'll have to testify at a trial or something. Probably not. He's not going to plead innocent. I don't even know if he's a citizen. Maybe they'll just deport his ass.

  "Jesus my ear is killing me," says Hallie. She takes a deep breath and blows her gum across the room, where it sails in an arc directly into the trash can. Correction: directly on top of the trash can. The can has a swinging lid. "Shit," she says, standing up again. She walks to the can and flicks her gum down into it.

  "She quit smoking," says Moises.

  "Good for you, Hallie," I say, "did Moises's straight edge catch on to you too?" I am about to add something about making sure she doesn't shave off her wild, bleached mane of hair, but something in both their expressions stops me.

  "No, not a straight edge thing," says Hallie, "even though I totally respect the shit out of that. I couldn't do it. I mean, they don't even drink caffeine. But, I have to give caffeine up now too. But just temporarily. I couldn't say sex is bad either. I mean, they're all into sex is only okay when it means commitment, and that's totally awesome, but I think sex can be casual and it's not, like, a sin, you know? It can just be an expression." She's twirling a lock of hair and looking at me, so she can't see Moises's reddening expression. "I can be a straight edge girlfriend, but I can't be straight edge myself. Besides, their music sucks."

  She grins and grabs Moises's hand and sits back in the chair.

  "All these deep punk statements," she laughs, "but none of them can sing. Like, at all." She squeezes his hand and looks up at him, winking. He shakes his head.

  I am connecting some dots here. Hallie chews gum until her jaw muscles spasm because she quit smoking, and now she's giving up caffeine….

  "Hallie," I say quietly, leaning forward. "Are you having a baby?"

  Her hand flies to her stomach. "Shit," she cries. "Can you already tell? God, I am gonna be a whale of a pregnant chick—"

  "No, no, no," I say, shaking my head quickly. "I'm just catching on to the whole lifestyle change thing. And Moises—"

  "Oh, no," he says. "I didn't do that."

  My eyebrows shoot up and I sit back, waiting for the story. Hallie sighs noisily and twists her hair, hard.

  "I was dating this dickhead," she says. "I didn't mind getting pregnant, I mean, I thought we'd make a family, you know? I live with my mom and I've had a job since I was, like, 14, so it's not like we wouldn't be okay, you know? I can finish high school at night. I know how to live off of a tiny paycheck. It's not that big a deal. But he…."

  "He ditched," supplied Moises.

  "And now it's just me," says Hallie. "Except now it's me and Moises. I mean, if he wants it to be. It's so trashy, you know, I see on tv all these dads raising other men's kids because they end up with the woman, and they all freak out when they realize the kid isn't theirs, but then they still love it, and there's the big reveal and paternity tests and it would figure my life would end up just like that. I mean, my mother more or less told me my life would end up like that. I don't want her to know she's right, yet." She reaches into one of her boots and scratches her shin artlessly. "But I'm not really like that, because it's not like Moises is gonna think it's his. I mean, we haven't even had—"

  "Okay," says Moises quickly. "You can stop."

  "I just mean, we're all in this with full knowledge, you know? I can't keep a secret if I tried, so I have no choice but to be honest. And this baby is coming, I think, like February." She shrugs.

  These are struggles I never had. I watch her talk and she could be an alien. When I was 17, I was worried about getting into college and how often someone called me fat and whether I could sneak another Tastycake from the box in the kitchen without my parents noticing. I babysat for some neighbors and enjoyed how their kids liked me, kids who are blind to body type and just sweep all adults into one box labeled "Adult," and of course they thought I was an adult. I thought my babysitters were adults, when I was a kid. I always did crafts with the kids I babysat – they'd beg me to draw an elephant, or draw an octopus, so they could color it in. They were fascinated by my ability to draw. And that's all I had for them. That's all I had to offer. That and patience and kindness. I had doting parents, grandparents who called me dollbaby and gave me twenty dollar bills, a rich inner life that interacted with stacks of books, and a couple of friends who didn't mind being friends with the chubby girl. Teenage pregnancy, single moms, bad boyfriend breakup drama, all of it is foreign to me. Hallie is more alive, right now, than I have ever been in my life, and she's not despairing of the pain she's clearly endured, nor the responsibility she's about to shoulder. She's fiddling with her earrings, growing a life inside of her, with her own life completely ahead of her, and she's taking it in stride. I am amazed. I have wasted my life.

  And Moises. What's he doing? He's taking it all on. He's not yet twenty and he's dating a pregnant teenager. Are they pooling their incomes? Are they going to shack up?

  "Are you pooling your incomes?" I ask, and I edit my second question. "Can you live together as a family, or will you stay with one of your parents? When will you tell them?"

  "Well," says Hallie. "I've just been couch surfing for a long time now, different friends, trying to stay away from my mom. I know she'll flip out. She's so religious. My dad died years ago, so, it's just us. I can't be myself with her. She loves me but she doesn't approve of me, and I know she'll be a good grandma, but she can't be a good grandma while she keeps trying to parent. Like, I have to be grown up and not be around her or she'll try to parent both of us." She gestures to her belly. "I'm this baby's mama. Me."

  I nod, and look at Moises. "And your parents don't even know you're dating anyone, let alone potentially making a new family here."

  "Well they know now, thanks to a certain big mouth," he says. "Gyeeh. But I told them everything last night anyway. They thought I was off getting myself run over again or something because I hadn't been home. They were relieved."

  "I work at a snowball stand," says Hallie. "So that needs to change. It's over in a couple weeks anyway after Labor Day."

  "Have you met his parents?" I ask Hallie.

  "That's not happening," says Moises. "I mean she'll meet them. They'll love her. But they're not taking her in. Don't go there. My little sister's already a mess and she'll adore Hallie and she'll go and buy boots have her own baby in two years."

  "And that would be so bad?" says Hallie, looking irritated.

  "Of course not. But my parents want her to stay at this all-girls school and go straight to college so she doesn't notice what everyone else is doing. They're petrified she'll end up like me. Not like you."

  "And that would be so bad?" cries Hallie.

  "Ultimately, no, but the few years it took to get where I am now, I wouldn't wish on a
nyone and they don't want to see her do it either. She's a girl. She'll get a whole lot more hurt than I did."

  "Pssssht," says Hallie, swatting at him. "Give the child some credit. But whatever. So no, I'm not living at Moises's house. I'm fine where I am until February and I can figure it all out before then. I'm not worried."

  "Wow," I say. "This is a lot. And you both need to finish school. High school and college. With a baby. So you have a support system, with your parents? Even if you don't live with them? They can help? With expenses, or child care?"

  "Jumping off all those bridges when I get there," says Hallie. "I can plan and plan but it's gonna happen how it happens, so I might as well just wait. Can't control life. Can't control other people."

  "Well that's for sure," I say. "I hope you let me babysit. Listen, Hallie, congratulations. Whether the timing is ideal or not, this is exciting." I reach out and squeeze her available hand – her other hand is still holding Moises's. For a moment, we are a chain of three, connected.

  Do you know how, some moments, you feel the universe take a breath? That you know, in one second, that the course of what is going to happen just changed? It would be as simple as taking a different exit off the interstate, and suddenly discovering your new hometown, or going into a different diner than the one you had planned and ending up with a job offer and a new boyfriend. Or, for me, I first realized it when I was choosing colleges, and I was tossing all the brochures into the trash that didn't fit my immediate criteria, whatever they were, and I knew that entire alternative universes were being discarded with every decision I made. My life could have gone a thousand directions and I was limited to one, and I'll never ever know who I might have been if I'd chosen differently.

  But sometimes it's not a choice. Sometimes things just happen. When I first met Danny. When I was pregnant. When I lost the baby. When I lost Danny. When I got the call about my parents.

  This, I don't know what it was. But something happened in our chain of hands. If I had to get dippy, I would say, whichever soul was going to go into that baby, made its decision right then and there, because it saw us. As if Hallie's pregnancy wasn't confirmed yet, until we spoke it aloud, and her baby wasn't a person yet, until we acknowledged it. But this is arrogant of me – Hallie and Moises had certainly spoken of it, between themselves, and nothing changed just because I was now in the know. But – something did change. Something bigger than me. Something bigger than all three of us.

  I smile and squeeze Hallie's hand harder.

  "And she's going to be beautiful," I say.

  Chapter 22

  I stand in the living room of my home wanting to die. Spots are flying in front of my eyes, my lungs burn, and my spine feels like it's going to crack in on itself. The pain in my incision is indescribable. I cannot believe what I just did, but I am regretting it. If I hang on five more minutes, I will be fine, I know, and even proud. Triumphant. But for right now, please God, just end it.

  I took a taxi home from the hospital when I was discharged. The driver looked at me with unabashed revulsion as I climbed into the back seat, not bothering to hide his stare. The nurse who was waiting with me snapped her fingers in front of his face and said, "Knock it off," in her nastiest voice, and I was immediately a child, the pity case whom the nice kids defended to the bullies. I was humiliated but grateful. It is a combination of emotion I am used to. I was wearing the same housedress I was admitted in, same big panties and everything. Whom was I going to ask to go through my gigantic clothing hanging in my closet, to bring me something clean? The maintenance man? Not a chance.

  I did call the complex office to ask them to unlock my door in time for my arrival, and they were very kind. They told me to make sure I called them as soon as I was home and situated, which was thoughtful of them.

  The taxi driver declined to speak a word to me the whole drive home, and I imagined colorful arrays of darts hitting the back of his head, some penetrating more deeply than others, which kept me easily entertained. When he pulled up on front of my building, I said to him, "Please wait here while I fetch your payment," and I exited the back seat as gracefully as I could. I am sure I look like a lumbering cow when I move, but I feel so much lighter on my feet after all the walking, all the in-and-out of the hospital bed, and all the weight loss. I am down to 442 now. I was actually disappointed it wasn't lower. Doctor Feigenbaum said he would consider my surgery once I am below 400.

  I walked to the condo building, feeling the taxi driver's eyes on my back, embarrassed and angry but completely powerless to change anything. Again, feelings I am used to. I entered the lobby, which I had not seen in three years, and I started on the stairs. Two flights, one step at a time. I did some stairs in the hospital, so I knew it was possible, but not so many at a time. I was in trouble within the first few, but I kept at it. I stopped to catch my breath after every step, leaning heavily on the railing, one hand over my incision, the bag of medications from the hospital pharmacy under my arm: antibiotics, pain meds, vitamins. And I kept going.

  At the top, I entered my apartment. Cool air conditioning washed over me like a prayer, and I knew the maintenance man who had unlocked my apartment today had lowered the temperature of my thermostat, too. Bless his soul. Nothing smelled stale or rotten – I hadn't done any cooking before I left. I felt immediately at home. No windows to throw open, no odors to chase away, no cobwebs to brush…. Okay, well maybe there are going to be some cobwebs in the top ceiling corners, but that's it. My apartment had no air of abandonment.

  I walked to my desk and dropped the bag on top, opened the top drawer, selected a credit card, and saw a pile of twenty dollar bills from Moises's last trip to the ATM. I was amazed at the goodness of people. If I had counted it, I bet all $200 would be present, plus the last ten dollar bill I still had. And a different condo maintenance man had collected my insurance card from this very drawer, to take to the office, to fax to the hospital, and then to put back. People can be so trustworthy. And then they can be Javier. You just never know.

  I mentally blew him a kiss and left my door open as I started back down the stairs. Going down was easier but scarier. I was off-balance for a moment every time I committed to putting down a foot. I gripped the railing as hard as I could with one hand, clinging to the credit card in the other so that I did not drop it. One step at a time, I went down, and down, and down. I was sweating profusely, and I could smell my rankness.

  The taxi driver was in the lobby, scanning the names on the mailboxes. Oh, did I make him wait too long? Did he think I had ripped him off? He looked at me as I approached him and exhaled angrily.

  "The meter is running this whole time," he said, defiantly, letting his eyes run up and down my body and curling his lip in disgust.

  I handed him my card and shrugged. "So be it," I said, grandly. He could think I am made out of money. I didn't care. He already considered me a grotesque slug of a human, so I might as well take his respect where I could get it.

  He ran my card through an older, manual slide machine and handed me the receipt to sign with a pen. I even added the tip. I handed it back, and he turned and walked away. Just like that.

  My darts this time came from a poison dart gun, flying faster and harder. I hit him every single time. I turned my back as he got outside, and forgot him completely as I focused my energy on climbing the stairs, one more time.

  And a half hour later I am home. Home again, home again, jiggety jog, runs through my head, an old nursery rhyme. I lean back against my closed door and lock it. Home. I feel enveloped by its familiar sights, its familiar scents. I do not sense a beast lurking in the kitchen. I do not feel trapped. I don't feel like I am returning to my coffin: the place I thought I had come to end all my days. No, I just feel home. I smile, walk to the couch, and sit down. Creak and crack, says the couch. Yes, it's nice to see you again too, I think. Can you tell there is less of me? No, not yet? Give me another month: I'll lighten up. And then I'll replace you. I've got this thing. I
can do this thing.

  I feel no guilt about sinking into my couch and reaching for my book, left on the coffee table these past couple of weeks. I just climbed two flights of stairs, two times. I can rest. I don't want to hear a television again anytime soon – I've seen enough to last me the rest of the year. I relax, flip the pages backwards to remember where I left off, and pick up again.

  Oh damn – I need to call the condo office. I reach, instinctively, for the cordless phone on the couch arm, when I suddenly remember throwing it, and my right shoulder throbs in agreement with the memory. Well, shit. Where is it?

  I stand up. My incision burns. My legs are shaky. But I do not see spots, and my sweat is still drying. I walk through the living room, looking on the floor. I walk to the kitchen – there it is, on the counter. So who? The nurse who was my target? An EMT? One of the condo maintenance men? I will probably never know. But someone took the moment for a kindness. And my garbage is empty, lined with a clean bag.

  I pick up the phone and dial the office.

  "Hi, this is Mona Jamborski in unit 303. Yes, I am back, just now. Oh, fine, thank you. Thank you so much. Yes, it was perfect, especially on such a hot August day. He is very kind. Oh really? You don't say? Well let him know I am forever grateful. I can't express how truly grateful I am to be able to trust the staff so much here. My parents chose this place well. Oh, that's sweet. Yes I miss her too. Yes, thank you. Oh, can you let the mail carrier know I am back? Of course. Absolutely. I sure will. I appreciate everything. You too. Bye now."

  Kindness is exhausting. I feel more emotions bubbling out of me than I am prepared for. I get a glass and fill it with water from the tap. Then I reconsider, and pour it out. I shuffle to my fridge, which has a water and ice dispenser on it that I've rarely ever used, push the button for crushed ice, and fill up my glass noisily and grindingly. There.