Ted finds me in the freezer again, trying to freeze the flames building within; what Momma called the devil inside me. The rage to kill. It’s what everyone expects from me anyways.
“Babe, you can’t catch cold,” he says, pulling me out. “It’s not good for the baby.”
Baby? Which one? Which one am I going to kill this time? What will they blame me for this fucking time?
I’m fire, trapped in ice, ready to turn into wildfire and burn everything down around me.
Ted rubs my arms until the goose bumps fade and I step back, not trusting myself near him. He smiles, hands gently stroking my cheeks. How could he love me, even when I’m like this? Doesn’t he know he could die in my blaze? How do I save him from myself but keep him for myself? Maybe I should take my pills again, so I’ll remember not to hurt him.
Rubbing a hole in my temple, I resist the urge to cry again. This whole crying stuff must be because of Bean. It’s stupid and embarrassing.
“Ted, I have to tell you something.”
Transcript from the January 4th Interview with Melissa Richardson,
Alyssa Richardson’s Mother
Detective: Thank you, Mrs. Richardson, for agreeing to speak with us. I am so sorry for your loss.
Melissa: Thank you.
Detective: Now, any information you give us will really help build the case. We all want to find out what happened to Alyssa.
Melissa: Yes, okay.
Detective: Can you tell us what happened the night Alyssa died? Everything you can remember.
Melissa: Alyssa . . . had just turned three months. We’d been cooped up in the house and Greg thought it would be nice to go to his company Christmas party. I didn’t really want to, but Dawn said she’d watch Alyssa for us. That made me feel a little better. The party was at this hotel in Times Square. There wasn’t really good reception in there. I stepped out a couple of times to try and call to see how she was doing. No one picked up.
After the party, I called and Dawn said everything was fine. So we went to have a late night dinner with some of Greg’s coworkers. I . . . we . . . we drove to Dawn’s to go get Alyssa after. It was . . . my suggestion to bring Alyssa there, thinking it would be more convenient for Dawn. On the way, I called twice, but no one answered. I thought maybe they were sleeping, since it was so late. But when . . . when we got to the house, there were cops everywhere . . . and my baby had been dead for four hours. No one called me.
Detective: Had you ever left Alyssa with Dawn before?
Melissa: No. It was the first time I had ever left Alyssa, period. But I knew Dawn. I . . . I never thought . . .
Detective: What happened when you first saw Alyssa?
Melissa: I . . . I knew something was wrong.
Detective: What made you think that?
Melissa: Because she looked like she’d been beaten . . . with a cane or stick or something. There were bruises . . . all over her. I know my baby. I know what she looked like when I brought her there . . . and it wasn’t anything like that.
Ted’s eyes bug out. His mouth hangs open, words tumbling out slow.
“Yo, but . . . all this time? You’ve been sitting . . . here . . . all this time. And you . . . you never told anyone?”
I told Ted everything. About Alyssa. About Momma. About them trying to take Bean. I wrapped up the last six years of my life in less than ten minutes. He’s the first person I’ve told the whole story to.
“Babe, you gotta tell someone!”
“Someone like who? No one will believe me.”
“But you didn’t fucking do it!”
“You know what they say, everyone in prison thinks they didn’t do it.”
“But you didn’t though!”
He starts pacing in front of me, banging his fists together.
“Nah, nah! We . . . we got to do something. We . . . I mean I . . . you . . . maybe you need a lawyer or something.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him I already thought of that. Winters shut down the lawyer plan real quick.
“Yo, the cops. We gotta tell the police!”
I sigh. If I go to the police, they won’t believe me. If I do nothing, they’ll take Bean away. Ted can’t adopt the baby, because he’s in a group home just like me. Even if he tried, I’m sixteen, he’s eighteen; they’d lock him up for statutory rape in a heartbeat. And then there is Momma. Could I really send her to prison and live with myself? I guess this is what they’re talking about when they say “damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”
Ted rubs his head, cursing under his breath.
“Lemme think about it. We ain’t losing this baby. And if we do . . . well, then, aight. But I won’t let you spend one more fucking minute in that place for something you didn’t do!”
Dinner, then group therapy. As usual, I have nothing to say. It’s hard to talk about your feelings when you have none. But when our session ends, Ms. Veronica corners me.
“Mary, can I talk to you for a moment?”
I’m in no mood for this woman. I’m mad tired, thirsty, and still hungry since Ms. Stein won’t let me have seconds at dinner. “Just ’cause you got pregnant, don’t mean you’re gonna eat me out of house and home!”
But I really don’t have a choice. I have to listen, otherwise they’ll use any excuse they can find to throw me back in baby jail.
Ms. Veronica waits for all the girls to go upstairs.
“I have something for you.”
She pulls out a thin red book from behind her and gives it to me. Push by someone named Sapphire. No last name?
“It’s really good. I thought it may be something you could relate to.”
“Ummm . . . thanks,” I mumble. This is kind of nice of her. I mean, I’m happy to have something new to read, but I’m suspicious of anything Ms. Veronica thinks is good.
“Soooo . . . Mary. How are you?”
“Fine.”
She cocks her head to the side.
“Really, Mary? You sure you’re just ‘fine’?”
I really don’t know what to say, so I keep quiet.
“I heard you got some big news. You want to talk about it?”
What I want doesn’t matter to her or anyone else, so I keep quiet.
“Mary, I’ve been going through your feelings book every week. You never mentioned you were pregnant or had a boyfriend. You know, you can talk to me about anything. That’s why I’m here. To talk to you about your feelings, help you navigate what you are going through . . .”
I study the floor by her feet. A clump of hair hangs around her fancy flat shoes. In a houseful of women, there is nothing but hair everywhere. If we go a day without sweeping, it collects and tumbles around like the tumbleweeds I’d seen on those westerns Momma liked to watch when we did laundry. That was one of Momma’s jobs, doing other people’s laundry. Wash and fold for fifteen bucks a bag. People liked using her because of the way their clothes felt after she was done. Folded crisp, extra soft. Momma was good at cleaning everything. A cleanly house is a godly house. But there is no God in a group home.
“Mary? Mary?”
Ms. Veronica smiles.
“Hey, there. Where’d you go just now?”
I shake my head.
Ms. Veronica starts this long speech about sex and safety, STDs and AIDS and the meaning of love.
“So you see, Mary, you really want to make sure you love the person you’re with. That that person is special to you. Because at the end of the day, your love creates life.”
Her hands extend toward my stomach and I jump back, knocking over a chair, moving a good five steps away from her.
She was going to touch Bean! This stupid bitch was going to touch Bean!
“Oh! I’m sorry, Mary. I didn’t mean to—”
She stops herself, standing there all nervous with her hands still hanging in the air. My hands ball into fists, heart pounding, trying to bust out.
“Have you . . . um .
. . talked to Ms. Carmen, you know, about your options?”
Ms. Carmen made it clear I have two options: kill Bean or give Bean away.
“Given your circumstances, adoption might not be a bad idea. Just for now. Taking care of a baby is a huge responsibility. It may be best to give the baby away to a loving family that could provide . . .”
I don’t want to hear any more about adoption. Ted and I are a loving family! We can provide. Ted’s going to get a job, I’m going to college. Why can’t they leave us alone! And what does she know about babies anyway? She don’t even have one. I don’t need her! I don’t need anybody!
I walk away and Ms. Veronica doesn’t chase after me. She knows better.
A hot shower, that is what I need to relax. I head straight for the bathroom. The water, as warm as it’s going to be, washes over my changing body, soaking my hair and melting the day away. I exhale and think about Bean. I wonder if I have a boy, will he look just like Ted? Handsome, chocolate skin and bright eyes. Or a girl, will she be as beautiful as Alyssa? Alyssa was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen.
Ms. Veronica is so stupid. What does she know about what’s best for my baby? I’m what’s best for MY baby! She must be working with Ms. Stein and Ms. Carmen, trying to get rid of me. Pretending to be my friend to get me to do what they all want. She’s not on my side. No one in this house is on my side.
Now I really miss Herbert.
I change into my pajamas, comb out my wet hair, and brush my teeth. All and all, it took thirty minutes to get ready for bed. Enough time for them to ransack my room.
My mattress is off the top bunk and on the floor, the sheets and pillow gone. Clothes tossed in the hallway, panties hanging from the ceiling fan, and what remained of my SAT book looks like it has gone through a shredder. I stare into the empty room, my head throbbing. The material things I could give a damn about. What’s most important is what was inside my mattress. I quickly flip it back over, feeling for the slit I had cut on the side. Empty. Someone stole my money. Four hundred dollars, my entire savings. Gone.
They turned a knob inside me. I hear the four clicks of the gas pop before the flame ignites. My heart is covered in peanut oil. I can smell it frying, burning to a crisp. My legs move like a robot’s. I have no control over anything anymore. I’m gone. Someone else is here now.
The door to the other room is open. New Girl is alone, curled up in the corner of her bed, shaking like a wet dog in the cold. She’s probably the only one in the house smart enough to be afraid of me right now.
“Who. Did. It.”
She doesn’t hesitate to snitch.
“It was Kelly. And Tara. I heard Kelly talking about the money. Tara ripped up your book.”
I nod and walk back into my room, letting the facts sink into my blood while I clean up. I can’t take on two of the biggest bullies in the house at the same time. No, I need to be smarter than them.
The girls are cackling in the living room with Ms. Stein, TV blaring. They’ll act like I’m crazy if I go down there and make a scene. And Ms. Stein will take their side. She always takes their side.
First, I have to get the money back. I walk into Kelly’s room, straight to her closet. New Girl watches, hugging her knees. The wad of money is stuffed in her coat pocket, like I knew it would be. Just like an idiot, she picks the worst hiding spot. Momma used to hide money in her coat pockets too and Ray would always take it.
Wait a minute . . . Momma!
Thinking of her insanity gives me an idea. But I have to act fast. I tiptoe downstairs and put on a pot of water, adding a capful of corn oil. I grab the bleach from under the counter and run to Kelly’s room. When I’m done, I tiptoe back to my room, unplug the bedside lamp, and do what they’d never think I would do: go to bed.
The girls return to their rooms around eleven for lights-out, snickering when they see me sleeping, like they won one over on me or something. But they have no idea.
Ten minutes later, Kelly screams.
Tara jumps up, knowing whatever the scream is about has something to do with me. I leap off the bed with the lamp and come down on Tara’s head like a hammer. Marisol, frozen in shock, watches Tara tumble to the floor like a sack of bricks. I run out the door before Kelly can make it to my room. The whole house is up now. Another fight with Kelly; who is her victim this time? Not me. Not tonight.
I race down the stairs, Kelly close behind me, reeking of the bleach I soaked her bed in. She’s fast, way faster than Tara, but I have at least five paces ahead of her. Enough time to make it to the kitchen, grab the handle, and splash the pot of boiling water in her face. Every ounce of air once in her body pours out in a scream. It reminds me of Alyssa’s momma, when she came to the house that night. Pain. That was what she was feeling, physical pain. Kelly sounds just like her now.
My hand hesitates toward the knife drawer.
It’s okay to do it this time. She was gonna kill you. You’re saving Bean!
The light pops on. Ms. Stein rushes in and drops to the floor by Kelly, her face a red beet. Ms. Reba, all confused by the commotion, walks toward me and I step back.
“Don’t,” I warn, and she stops short.
“Mary! Are you insane!” Ms. Reba screams over Kelly’s wails.
“No. I’m pregnant. She was gonna kill me first!” Then I look at Ms. Stein. “And you let them beat me!”
Ms. Stein and Ms. Reba are in big trouble and they know it. Ms. Stein has to take Kelly to the emergency room; she has to report it this time, no getting around it. And they can’t just pin this on me. Between my purple back and the rest of the house of girls who all have battle scars from either Tara or Kelly, I can scream self-defense easy. And letting a pregnant underage girl get bullied in a group home, where they are supposed to be protecting us? Not to mention never filing a single incident report? They’re screwed. And Ms. Stein knows it. You can see it in her eyes, even as she tries to treat Kelly, running her face under some cold water.
Thanks, Momma.
Momma, always hearing noises in the house that I never could, used to stay up all night with a pot of boiling water and a wooden bat, waiting for the boogieman that never came.
“What’s the oil for, Momma?”
“So the water sticks and burns the shit out of him, baby girl.”
I was always hoping she was talking about Ray.
Tara wakes up from her concussion to find Kelly’s face, swollen and blistering. She takes one look at me and doesn’t make a sound, just turns ash black, since she’s too dark to turn pale.
“Damn,” Ms. Stein mumbles. “Gotta take her to the hospital.”
I sit in the living room while they try to come up with a plan.
“Should I call Winters?” I offer, holding back a smirk.
“NO!” Ms. Reba shouts at me. “We have it under control!”
The girls stand around, whispering to each other, looking at me. New Girl doesn’t smile, but looks relieved in some strange way.
Kelly’s face is starting to bubble. Ms. Reba piles her into the minivan and Ms. Stein drives her to the hospital. She returns the next morning, without Kelly.
“Mary! Office. Now!”
Her office is a cramped room with tan metal filing cabinets, ugly green ripped leather chairs, and crooked framed pictures. The navy blue carpet is covered with dust, empty Girl Scout cookie boxes, Hostess cupcake wrappers, and donut crumbs.
“Well, this is some mess you made here,” she says behind her huge wooden desk, papers and files covering every spare surface between us. “Got anything to say?”
“Yeah. When’s Winters getting here?”
She swallows.
“He’ll be here in a few hours.”
“Good.”
I cross my legs and she fusses around with her pencil. It smells like her in here, a fat woman who doesn’t shower.
“So, uh, what are you going to say?” she asks.
“What I said last night. I’m pregnant and you let t
hese girls attack me.”
“Yeah . . . uhhhh . . . little dramatic, don’t you think?”
“She was going to kill me.”
We stare at each other for a long minute. I’m not backing down, not when it comes to Bean. I’ll be damned if another baby gets hurt because of me.
“Okay, Mary, what do you want?”
“I want my own room and a new SAT book.”
Ms. Stein scoffs.
“I can’t give you your own room! What are you, crazy? There’ll be anarchy! I need to put at least one person in there.”
I think for a moment while she pulls out a new box of donuts.
“Then put the new girl in there.”
She grumbles and stuffs a white donut in her mouth.
“Fine!”
“And . . . I need my birth certificate.”
Ms. Stein has powdered sugar all over her black shirt. She tries to brush it off and it spreads, looking like shooting stars across her chest.
“What for?”
“I need an ID . . . they told me at school.”
“Damn it, Mary! Why didn’t you tell me that before? So damn stupid! You’ll have to wait till Carmen brings it.”
Ms. Carmen has it? What else does she have? Maybe she has everything about me. Maybe she knows who my father is?
“Does she have my file?” I ask.
Ms. Stein stops trying to clean herself and squints.
“What do you need your file for? What are you up to?”
I don’t say anything. She laughs.
“Okay, Mary. Fine. You’re just making it easier and easier.”
I walk away, afraid of what she could mean.
In the darkest corner of the basement, the coldest place in the house, I am a shadow among shadows. The cold is a relief to my killer migraine and nausea. Everything hurts. Bean is stretching out, making itself comfortable, pushing on my back and bladder. I’m so hungry, but there is nothing to eat. Not even some of those fake slices of cheese Ms. Stein likes.
I finish the book Ms. Veronica gave me, throwing it so hard it slaps against the storm door on the opposite side of the basement. Is that how she sees me? Some nasty fat girl who can’t read, getting raped by her daddy every night and cumming because of it? Does she think this is Ray’s baby? No, she couldn’t. She has to know by now Ray’s dead, right? He died years ago, before Alyssa even. Dropped stone-cold dead on the sidewalk. If whatever it was inside him hadn’t killed him, his head hitting the pavement would’ve finished the job. And Momma, my God, she is nothing like Precious’s momma. She would never . . . just never! But everyone is evil in their own way I guess.
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