by H. M. Mann
“This thing doesn’t have AC, does it?”
“I just open the windows. Oh. And a few holes underneath provide some ventilation. It’s got a tiny bit of rust.”
A tiny bit? If he hits any speed bumps, we’ll both fall through to the street. “Park in front of, um, Marion’s house.”
Johnny parked, the Vega grumbling a full twenty seconds before shutting off with a clank. “That was a new sound. A higher pitch, key of C, I think.” He turned to Gloria. “You know Marion?”
Gloria nodded. “She’s my grandma.”
But there’s hardly a resemblance … but the little girl … gorgeous Angel is … “Um, so Angel is …”
Gloria looked straight ahead through the windshield, a series of spider web cracks obscuring her view of the post office down the street. “Angel is my daughter. She’s five now. She’s in kindergarten, and she won’t be awake for another hour, so try to whisper.”
“What about Angel’s father?” Geez, Johnny, why not think it without saying it first to see how it affects you? “Sorry. It was just … on my mind just then and it just … spilled out.”
Gloria’s heart thudded. “She’s never known her father. He, um, he left before she was born, and we haven’t seen him since.”
Johnny reached across and put the backs of his fingers on Gloria’s face. “He was a fool.”
Gloria’s eyes misted slightly. “Thank you.”
He took her hand. “But why didn’t you tell me about Angel before now?”
Gloria looked at his hand. “I didn’t want to scare you away. Most men—”
“I’m not most men,” Johnny interrupted.
Gloria squeezed the life out of his hand to see if he was real. “I know you’re not, and I know I should have told you before today, but I was afraid. A lot of men would just … hit it and quit it, as they say, you know?”
I wouldn’t. Johnny smiled. “Today is as good a day as any, I guess.” He dropped her hand and fiddled with the inside door handle. “Is the food on the table already? I’m hungry.” He popped the door handle, adding a little kick with his left leg, and the door groaned open.
Gloria pulled him back to her. “I have been worrying about this all night, and all you can say is, ‘I’m hungry’?”
“But I am. Very. Hungry. Feed me, Gloria. Food. Breakfast. Grease. Cholesterol.”
Gloria smiled. “You don’t … care that I have a child?”
“I do care, but I can’t meet her if I’m sitting out here in this car.” He sniffed the air. “What will we have? I hope we have pancakes.”
Gloria grabbed Johnny’s face and held his eyes in hers. “You really don’t have a problem with this?”
Johnny shot his hands up to Gloria’s cheeks. “No.” He smiled. “By the way, my last name is Holiday.”
Gloria smiled. “Holiday?”
“Yeah. Life with me can be a real vacation, now let’s go inside and freak out your mama, er, grandmama. She doesn’t know I’m coming over, does she?”
Gloria shook her head, Johnny’s hands moving side to side as well.
“Gloria, don’t take this the wrong way,” Johnny said, “but if any cops drove by right now, I’d be arrested for domestic violence. Either kiss me or let me go.”
Gloria kissed him and slid her hands down Johnny’s chest. “Let’s go freak out my mama.”
He lifted his hands from her face and carefully rested them on her shoulders. “Will, um, will I freak out your mama or will we freak out your mama?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well … I’m kind of white. A birth defect, don’t you know.”
Gloria nodded. “Oh. That. Hmm. I think … we’ll just have to see.”
Johnny raised his eyebrows. “So this is what suspense feels like.” He smiled. “I like it.”
Gloria laughed. “Johnny, I just want to say …” What do I want to say? “I just want to say thank you. For understanding.”
Johnny shrugged. “I like you, Gloria, and I’m sure I’ll like your daughter and your mama. I hope they like me.”
“They will.”
He squeezed her shoulders. “This is payback, right? For me visiting her before I was supposed to.”
“Yes.”
Johnny dug into his pocket and took out a tiny black rubber band. He rolled it over her left ring finger.
“What’s this for?”
“It’s a placeholder.”
Gloria’s hand shook. “A placeholder for what?”
“A ring, of course.”
Gloria’s jaw shook. “What … what kind of ring?”
“A round one,” Johnny said, his eyebrows knitted together. “Now come on.”
Gloria slipped silently into the house after first admiring her rubber band.
“You’re home earlier than I expected,” Marion said from the kitchen. “Guess you didn’t get lucky. Again.”
Johnny tried not to laugh, but a snicker sneaked out.
“Tell Johnny he can hang his coat in the closet,” Marion said.
Gloria’s shoulders slumped. She pointed to the closet and left Johnny in the hall then stomped into the kitchen and sagged into a chair. “How’d you know he was here, Mama?”
Marion continued to stir the pancake batter, a rectangular griddle warming on the counter. “First I smelled that car of his. Then I heard it. Then I looked out the window and saw all the smoke. Then I saw you two doing face tag or something. And when you came in, I heard four feet, not two. I know you can be a heifer, Gloria, but you only got two feet.”
Johnny appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “Good morning, Marion.”
Marion smiled. “Good morning, Johnny. That pizza you sold me didn’t have enough sauce on it. What’s your boss use, a squirt gun?”
“Sometimes he uses an eyedropper,” Johnny said, approaching the sink and washing his hands. “Yeah, he’s cheap with the sauce.” After drying his hands on a paper towel, he asked, “Need any help?”
Marion handed the bowl and the spoon to Johnny. “Pancakes, three inches wide, don’t scorch ‘em.”
Gloria stood. “And I can do the sausage.”
“Nah,” Marion said. “Me and Johnny here got you covered. You just take a load off.”
Gloria sat, propping her feet on an adjacent chair. “You need any help, Johnny?”
Johnny shook his head. “In another life, I used to be a short order cook at IHOP.” He spooned two little dabs and one large glop of batter onto the griddle.
Marion looked over at the griddle. “I said three inches, not centimeters, and why do you have those two so close to the big one?”
“Watch,” Johnny said.
Marion slid over to Johnny. “I get it. Is that gonna be Mickey or Minnie?”
“More like Dumbo, I’m afraid,” Johnny said. “I’m a little out of practice.”
Marion nodded her way back to her sizzling sausage, humming.
Gloria looked at Johnny’s back and felt her pulse finally return to normal. He’s making a Mickey Mouse pancake for Angel. He hasn’t even met her yet, he’s already declared her gorgeous, and he is now trying to make her smile at her breakfast.
“When does Angel usually get up?” Johnny asked.
“Soon as these smells hit her, she’ll be down,” Marion said. “Her room is right above us.”
Gloria scooted back her chair. “I’ll go wake her.”
“Sit,” Marion said.
Gloria sat.
“We ain’t disturbing that child’s routine just because we have company,” Marion said. “Let her sleep. It’s Friday, so that bus driver will be running later than usual. Angel will be down when her stomach tells her to come down.”
But I want my daughter to meet Johnny now while he’s cooking Mickey for her! And I hate just sitting here! “I’ll warm up the syrup.”
“Ooh,” Marion said, “it’s so hard pushing a button on the microwave.”
Gloria stifled a grumble, stood, took a bottle of
Mrs. Butterworth’s from the fridge, put it in the microwave, and hit the REHEAT button. She wandered over to Johnny’s right and saw two mouse faces, and except for one misshapen ear, they looked professionally done.
“You have some serious skills, Johnny,” Gloria whispered.
Marion flipped a sausage patty. “Whispering in this kitchen like no one can hear you. Make a real big one for Gloria, Johnny. She’s always hungry as a hippo when she gets home.”
“I am not,” Gloria said, putting her hand on Johnny’s lower back.
“She’d eat a whole ham if she could,” Marion said.
Gloria rubbed Johnny’s back. “Mama always acts up for company.”
“And now you’re feeling him up in my kitchen?” Marion asked with a chuckle.
“I’m just making sure you’re real,” Gloria whispered softly in his ear.
Johnny kissed her lightly on the lips. “You know I am.”
“Oh Jesus!” Marion said. “We ain’t had a man up in this kitchen in fifteen years, and the second we do, she goes all weak in the knees.”
Gloria reached her arms around Johnny, joining her hands on his opposite hip. “Mama’s just jealous. Grandpa Nathan never cooked a single meal in this kitchen. In fact, I doubt if any man has ever cooked in this kitchen.”
Johnny turned to Marion. “Do you have any chocolate chips and some whipped cream? For the face.”
Marion opened the pantry and took out a bag of M&Ms, tossing it onto the counter.
“Cool,” Johnny said.
Gloria heard the padding of little feet on the floor above and quickly returned to her seat. Please wake up in a good mood, little girl.
Johnny placed several M&Ms on the pancakes and looked to the doorway.
Marion hummed.
Several creaking stairs later, Angel stood in the doorway wearing plain blue pajamas with matching slippers, her glasses reflecting the ceiling light in the kitchen.
“Good morning, baby,” Marion said. “Sleep well?”
Angel pointed at Johnny. “Who’s he?”
“It’s not polite to point, Angel,” Gloria said.
Angel dropped her pointer finger. “Well, who is he?”
Johnny finished one of the mice and slipped it onto a plate. He placed the plate across from Gloria. “I am your pancake chef this morning, Miss Angel. My name is Johnny Holiday, and you can call me Johnny.”
Angel blinked. “Who is he really, Mama?”
I was afraid of this. “Sit and eat, Angel,” Gloria said.
Angel sat, her eyes drifting over the pancake. The tiniest smile seemed to slip briefly through her lips before disappearing into a tight, brown line. “I need syrup.”
Gloria popped open the microwave, opened the bottle, and drizzled warm syrup on Mickey. “That enough?”
Angel nodded.
Marion handed Angel a fork. “Eat up.”
Angel looked up at Johnny, who was sliding two more mice onto plates. “Is this supposed to be a mouse?”
“Yes,” Johnny said. “Either Mickey or Minnie, take your pick.”
Angel stared at her pancake. “This ear is too big.” She cut a sliver off the offending ear and put it in her mouth.
“Ouch!” Johnny yelled. “Don’t eat me!”
Gloria and Marion jumped.
Angel did not jump, merely sighing, “It didn’t hurt the pancake.”
Johnny took his plate and sat next to Angel. “I’m eating an elephant today.”
Angel briefly browsed his plate. “It’s too small to be an elephant.”
Johnny grabbed his plate and slid it away from Angel’s plate. “Eek! There’s a mouse on your plate, and my elephant is scared!”
Gloria and Marion jumped again.
Angel sighed and rolled her eyes. “Elephants aren’t really afraid of mice.” She took a bite of Mickey’s nose.
I’ll say one thing for him, Marion thought. The man never gives up.
Come on, baby girl, Gloria thought. Warm up to Johnny.
“Well,” Johnny said, “my elephant is afraid of mice.”
“It’s only a pancake,” Angel said.
Tough audience, Johnny thought. He carved out an S-shape. “Now it’s a snake. Isn’t your mouse scared?”
“It’s not polite to play with your food at the table,” Angel said. “Food is for eating.”
Johnny raised the snake’s head off his plate. “The mighty cobra looked at its mousy prey, attempting to hypnotize the mouse with its fierce, fiery eyes.”
“Snakes can’t really do that,” Angel said. “That’s only in stories.”
Hmm, Johnny thought. I’m running out of pancake. He cut and positioned his pancake into the shape of a mousetrap.
Angel glanced over. “Those don’t work very well. Mice aren’t that dumb.”
“They can be tricked if you use peanut butter instead of cheese,” Johnny said.
Angel frowned. “How do you know mice like peanut butter?”
Because I’ve served them some on Ritz crackers in my kitchen, and they always come back for seconds. “I’ve seen it work.”
Angel dropped her fork. “You watched a mouse die?”
Nice conversation for breakfast, Marion thought.
At least he has her attention, Gloria thought.
“I didn’t watch a mouse die, Angel,” Johnny said. “But I did watch a mouse spend two hours licking every smudge of peanut butter from the trigger without setting off the trap.”
“You must not have set it right then,” Angel said. “Or the mouse wasn’t heavy enough to make the trap work.”
Very smart girl! “Or,” Johnny said, “I didn’t set the trap in the first place.”
Angel stared at Johnny. “Why wouldn’t you set the trap?”
Johnny winked at Gloria. “A mouse once saved my life, and I am forever returning the favor to all his cousins.”
“Right,” Angel said.
Johnny sat back in his chair. “I was maybe a year younger than you are now, and I was playing outside with my cat, Diane.”
Angel stopped chewing. “What kind of name is that for a cat?”
“A bad one?” Johnny asked.
Angel didn’t laugh.
She should have laughed. “Anyway,” Johnny continued, “Diane and I were playing fetch with a ball, and—”
“Cats don’t play fetch,” Angel interrupted.
“Diane did,” Johnny said. “I had a long rubber band attached to a little red ball. I would roll it out, Diane would latch on with her claws, the rubber band would get tight, Diane would let go …”
“So it wasn’t fetch,” Angel said. “It was like playing catch.”
“I called it fetch,” Johnny said. “So anyway, Diane suddenly took off through the yard to the chain-link fence. She climbed it lickety-split and kept on going. I was supposed to stay in the yard—”
“But you didn’t,” Angel said with a yawn.
How rude! Marion thought.
How rude! Gloria thought.
How perceptive! “No,” Johnny said, “I stayed in the yard, but I was worried about Diane. Our neighbor had a massive Rottweiler that liked to eat cats.”
Angel’s face twitched slightly.
Ah, so danger is interesting to our little Angel. “At least that was the rumor. There weren’t many cats left in our neighborhood. I called for Diane again and again, but only DeShawn came running to the fence.”
“Who’s DeShawn?” Angel asked.
“The Rottweiler’s name,” Johnny said, “was DeShawn.”
“Where did you live?” Angel asked.
Johnny smiled. “When I was your age, I lived about four or five blocks from here near Forest Park Elementary School. I even went to first grade there.”
Gloria looked at Marion, and Marion shrugged.
“But you’re white,” Angel said.
Johnny nodded. “Ever since I was born.”
Gloria mouthed, “Really?”
Johnny nodded.
“It was only for a few months,” Johnny said, “and I didn’t tell your mama about it since she wants me to reveal things gradually for a more dramatic and shocking effect.”
Johnny went to my school? Gloria thought. Why don’t I remember him? I would remember a white kid. How much older than me is he?
Angel finished her pancake and took a sip of apple juice. “So what happened to Diane?”
And she’s still interested. Cool. “Angel, it’s sad to say,” Johnny said sadly, “but I never saw Diane again. She vanished that day.”
“Did … did DeShawn eat her?” Angel asked.
“I hope not,” Johnny said. “But I’ll never know. All I do know is that DeShawn came tearing toward me as I stood at that fence, and I saw that he wasn’t on his chain. He was a powerful dog and had already escaped his chain and jumped over our fence a couple times.”
“What did you do?” Angel asked.
She beat me to it, Marion thought.
“I froze,” Johnny said, “like a deer frozen in between two headlights.”
“I’ve heard that works,” Angel said.
“But DeShawn wasn’t stopping that day,” Johnny said. “He leaped high toward the fence and me …”
“And you just stood there?” Angel asked.
Shoot, Marion thought. She beat me to it again.
“I was scared, Angel,” Johnny said. “I was afraid. That dog was bigger, stronger, and faster than I was.”
“Well,” Angel said, “you should have done something.”
Johnny looked at Marion and Gloria. “I did do something, Angel. I ducked.”
“You what?” Angel said.
“I ducked.” Johnny ducked in his seat for effect. “I crouched close to the fence, and DeShawn sailed right over my head.”
“What did you do next?” Angel asked.
“I climbed over the fence into my neighbor’s yard. DeShawn seemed pretty angry that I had tricked him, so he charged the fence again. I ducked, DeShawn sailed through the air …”
“This didn’t really happen,” Angel said.
“It did.” Johnny smiled. “We did this little routine three more times, and I was getting tired from climbing that fence. The last time I climbed over the fence into the neighbor’s yard, I decided that enough was enough. I was pooped.”
Angel’s mouth dropped open. “You … pooped?”
“I was pooped. I was exhausted.” Though I nearly did poop myself, Johnny thought. “I looked around for something to throw for DeShawn to go fetch.”