“Gram always lets me have tape,” said Owen, his voice hoarse. “I can wear it if I want.”
Let it be, Owen. Please let it be, I prayed.
“I’m your mother, Owen, and if I say it’s going to stop, it’s going to stop.” Skyla took a step toward Owen.
I was a shaking leaf but my instincts moved my body right between Owen and Skyla. I said, “It doesn’t hurt anything.”
Skyla stared at me with fire and hammers. The phone rang and she answered it, never taking her eyes from mine.
“Hi, baby,” said Skyla. “Saturday, that’s great! I’ll start packing up right now and I’ll be over later. I’m not staying in this hole one more minute. . . . Don’t worry, she’ll come along, just like we planned. No . . . I don’t care what you say, I am not bringing him, not after the day I’ve had. . . . I never could handle that situation and I still can’t. Tell you about it later.”
Skyla hung up and headed straight for the cupboard under the kitchen sink and pulled out a plastic garbage bag. She walked around the living room/kitchen, picking up her things and tossing them inside the bag. Then she headed to the bedroom. From the back of the trailer, she yelled, “I can’t find Rose Tulip! Where’s my Rose Tulip lipstick? Naomi, you haven’t been using it, have you?”
Skyla hurried down the hall toward us, dragging the bag.
“Clive’s job came through in Las Vegas, finally. We’re leaving, Naomi. Toss some things in this bag. Bring those jeans I bought you and those sparkly shirts.”
Leaving? I wasn’t leaving. I shook my head.
“Don’t tell me no! I have had it with your attitude and your only saying two words and speaking-in-whispers nonsense. Where did I put that lipstick?” Skyla began poking around the shelf above the sink. When she turned and saw I wasn’t moving, she yelled, “Get your things right now!” and swept her hand across the shelf. The three little soap ducks fell to the floor, their heads breaking off and rolling around like tops. I looked down at the broken pieces.
“You . . . you can’t tell us what to do,” I said. Where were my words coming from?
Skyla bristled. “I can tell you to do anything I like. I’m your mother. I can see that Gram obviously doesn’t know how to raise children. Just look at you, with your smart mouth.”
A mean, stomp-my-foot feeling rose from a place I didn’t know existed in my mind. I wished I could throw my anger at Skyla and yell, but my voice came out a shaky whimper. “Gram takes care of us. She does . . . everything for us. Not like you. You left us. You didn’t . . . want . . . us and then you didn’t even let our father see us. Now we’re supposed to do what you s-s-say? I . . . I . . . I’m . . . n-n-not . . . going.”
Skyla took two steps across the room, then slapped me across the cheek.
It was such a hard slap that my head turned and snapped against my shoulder. I didn’t have to look in a mirror to know that the sting of her hand was perfectly imprinted. I felt it from the inside out.
Angry, burning tears stung my eyes. I wanted to wipe them away, but now my hands were paralyzed and my feet were rooted to the floor.
Skyla raised her hand again.
“Leave her alone!” yelled Owen, running over and throwing his arms around my waist.
Skyla dropped her hand. Spooky calm words came from her mouth. “There’s more where that came from, Naomi. I can see that I’m going to need to spend a lot of time teaching you how to mind. And don’t give me those puppy-dog eyes like you’re scared of me. I always hated it when you did that. I can’t believe you haven’t changed one bit since you were little, always defying me then and still defying me now. You know, if anything happens to Gram, all you’ll have is me anyway, and something could happen to her any time now, old as she is. You wouldn’t want that, would you, Naomi? Something bad happening to Gram on account of you?”
My knees went gelatin wobbly. What was Skyla saying? That she would hurt Gram? That she might kill Gram? I was still trying to grasp it all when her voice switched to sugar.
“Now, Naomi honey, you know I didn’t mean that little slap, so don’t hold it against me. You are just like me, remember? Two peas in a pod. It will be fun. You can go to school in Las Vegas. Clive has Sapphire now, so you’ll have a friend that’s like a little sister. It’s been all arranged and decided. We’re picking her up on the way. Owen’s going to stay here and take care of Gram, so you see, everyone will be happy.”
I started inching toward the door.
Skyla swooped like a hawk diving for a morsel of meat and grabbed my arm, digging her nails into my skin.
I flinched. Skyla was wrong. I wasn’t just like her. We were not two peas in a pod. I stood as still as I could so she’d relax her grip. “Okay . . . okay . . . I . . . I think I saw Rose Tulip in the bathroom cabinet.”
“Well, that’s better,” she said, all perky. She let go and headed down the hall.
I quietly took Owen’s hand and pulled him back toward the door. Then I pushed it open and we flew down the steps.
“Run, Owen, run fast!” I said, tugging him along beside me into the murky grove.
We were halfway through the trees when we heard Skyla’s voice. “I know you can hear me, Naomi. You’re going with me, one way or another!”
Out of breath, Owen and I spilled into Fabiola’s living room. She and Gram looked up from the wedding gown that they were stuffing with tissue and wrapping in plastic.
“What’s happened?” asked Gram.
I burst into tears, and Owen talked so fast I could barely understand him.
“She’s coming and she’s going to take Naomi away and she hit Naomi and she’s going to hurt you!”
Gram hurried to me and examined my cheek, her mouth set in a straight line and something fierce building in her eyes. “You and Owen go out to the shed. Send Bernardo in here. You stay there and don’t come out until I come to get you.”
As we ran to the shed, I heard Skyla’s muffled voice calling from the other side of the dark trees. “Nao-mee.”
In the shed Bernardo stood in a half circle of wood shavings from the plank he had been planing. Owen’s words tripped over each other when he explained about Skyla. Bernardo quickly turned off the dangling lightbulb, and before he pulled the door shut on his way to the yard, he grabbed his biggest shovel.
I could smell the freshly shorn wood. I ran my fingers along the rippled aluminum wall.
“What’s going to happen?” whispered Owen.
“I think she’s going to come over and try to convince Gram to send me with her,” I whispered back.
I kept hearing Skyla’s words, “Something could happen to her any time now, old as she is.”
Softly, Owen said, “Why doesn’t Skyla want me, too?”
My mind tumbled to think of some comfort words. “It’s plain and clear she only wants me so I can be friends with Clive’s daughter and so she can get money from the state. So, I’m nothing special.” I touched my cheek and winced from the tenderness. I could still hear Skyla saying that there was more where that came from.
Owen thought on what I’d said for a minute. Even in the almost dark, I could see his round eyes intent on my face. He shook his head. “I think she never wanted me when I was a baby because I wasn’t . . . you know, like everyone else, and I think she doesn’t want me now.”
“But Gram wanted us, Owen. And our father. Those are the good things. We were lucky for that.” I scooted over close to him and put my arm around his shoulders while we waited.
We heard Lulu’s barking first. Owen and I carefully peeked through the window in the door. We could see Gram and Fabiola, who was now holding Lulu, and Bernardo by their side. The three stood shoulder to shoulder, like a barricade.
Skyla stood in front of them talking so soft, almost cooing, that we couldn’t hear her words.
But Gram’s voice carried in the crisp night air. “She is not going anywhere with you and that is that!”
The cooing stopped and Skyla’s voice fi
red up. “Clive told me you’d be like this. If you don’t go along, all I have to do is show up with a police officer. You can’t prove any legal rights to her. She’ll have to go with me. Is that what you want? Me showing up with a police officer to take Naomi?”
I held my stomach, thinking I might be sick. Would Gram have to let me go?
“Skyla, I’d go to the end of the earth to protect that child. I’ll go to court if that’s what I have to do.”
Skyla laughed. “The court would never deny custody to a natural parent. Clive told me all about it. There’s not a judge that wouldn’t give me my own child.”
“You abandoned those children!” said Gram. “That will count for something. And there’s another kettle of fish to consider. What about their father?”
“Him? What about him? He hasn’t seen them in years. He doesn’t care.” Skyla stumbled, then steadied herself. “Now where is she?”
“Skyla, what makes you think I’d turn her over, especially with you in your condition. You’re drinking. I can tell.”
“That does not concern you! Now, I’m saying it again. Clive, Naomi, and I are going to Las Vegas. Where is she?”
Bernardo took a few steps toward Skyla with the shovel pointed out.
Skyla walked backward, slowly, and waved a shaky finger at Gram. “Fine! I’ll be back with Clive to pick up Naomi at noon on Saturday, and I expect her bags to be packed. If she’s not ready, I’m going straight to the police. I’m not going to forget you making problems for me and Clive. Naomi doesn’t belong to you. She belongs to me. She is my daughter.”
Fabiola and Lulu spent the night with us in Baby Beluga, but it was a small comfort because I didn’t sleep a straight ten minutes. I had ideas of Skyla and Clive scooping me up at any moment to the point I was more tired when I woke up Friday morning than when I’d gone to bed the night before. It didn’t matter. We didn’t go to school anyway, which was fine by me. I stuck to Gram like an ivy plant on the side of a barn and glanced over my shoulder at the least little sound. That afternoon, Gram went with Fabiola to do private errands and said I couldn’t come along. Owen and I stayed with Bernardo, and Lulu was close by as guard dog. But even then, when one of the grove workers knocked on the door, I ran to the kitchen and started to cry.
That night Gram and Fabiola barely watched Wheel of Fortune. They had their heads together, talking quietlike the whole time. When I crawled into bed my body collapsed into the mattress, heavy and limp, like a half-full flour sack. It was a different kind of tired than I’d ever known my whole life.
Gram came to tuck me in, smiling.
I had already asked her a dozen times, but I had to ask again, “Are you sure Skyla’s not coming for me tomorrow?”
“Don’t you worry,” said Gram. “Tomorrow you are definitely not going to be with Skyla.”
“But the police — ”
“Shush,” said Gram. “I have plans, Naomi, but you don’t need to be concerned with them. Now, can you muster a tiny smile for me? The last few days you’ve had a permanent wrinkled brow.”
I struggled to make my mouth turn up on the ends. Then I skipped into sleep.
A regular sound, like a clock, rocked me in a deep, gentle fog with no nightmares or dreams, just nothingness, over and over. Mist and motion, mist and motion. I felt suspended in a hammock of sleep, swaying back and forth. When I did wake in the morning, I felt as peaceful as a kitten after a long nap, until I blinked several times. Then the restfulness startled out of me.
I sat up. “Owen!”
Sleepy eyed, Owen sat up and looked at me.
We both grabbed the sides of our beds.
The walls pitched and vibrated. An earthquake!
“Gram!” I called, but there was no answer.
I tried to think. What did they tell us to do in school? Stand in a doorway or a small bathroom.
I struggled to get out of bed and to help Owen. I pulled him along behind me and tried to balance with one hand against the trailer wall, but I could hardly stay straight. The shaking kept up at a steady pace.
“Gram!” I called again.
I stumbled down the narrow hallway with Owen. For a second I was afraid to look into the living room/kitchen. I’d seen those earthquake movies and the reports on television. Nothing left on the walls. Cupboards open and dishes smashed on the floor. I leaned forward and peeked into the room.
Gram and Fabiola sat at the drop-down table drinking coffee. Out the window behind them, cars sprinted by in the opposite direction. It wasn’t an earthquake. Baby Beluga was moving down a highway!
Through the window in the front of the trailer, I could see Bernardo’s truck towing us with his trailer hitch. Lulu was perched next to his shoulder on the top of the seat, looking out the back windshield at us and panting. Luggage and boxes snuggled tight in the truck bed, tied in with rope. My eyes shifted to the counters inside Baby Beluga. They were stacked with boxes of groceries, bottled water, a twenty-four pack of Nature’s Pure White bar soap, and an economy box of transparent tape.
I’d never seen Owen so happy. He jumped up and down the best he could, seeing how we were in a moving vehicle. He was giggling so hard he finally had to sit on the floor.
“Can Lulu ride back here with us?” he asked between fits of clapping.
“No,” said Gram. “We are all moving into the safety of the truck as soon as Bernardo stops.”
“Gram?” I said, still holding on to the side of the trailer for balance.
“Naomi, in my wildest dreams I never thought I’d uproot Baby Beluga. I told Skyla I’d go to the end of the earth to protect you, and I am fulfilling that prophecy. Besides, I always said you and Owen should know your Mexican history, so we are taking a holiday vacation to Mexico.”
“To Oaxaca,” said Fabiola, “to see our family and for La Navidad, Christmas.” Fabiola said this as if it was something we had planned, like a regular event on the calendar that we never missed. She held up a big driving map of Mexico. A red marker lined our route.
“Lemon Tree is close to here.” She pointed near Tijuana, which bordered San Diego. Then she unfolded the map full size. “And we are going . . . here.” Fabiola tapped her finger on a state in Mexico that was almost near Central America. We might as well be driving to New York City for how far away we were headed.
I took a step closer. Across the state were the letters O A X A C A. Pointing at them, I asked, “What does that mean?”
Fabiola laughed. “It is the name of the state. It’s pronounced Wah-hah-kah. And here, at this star, is Oaxaca City, the capital of the state and the town where our family lives. They are very excited that we are coming. We have not seen them in too many years.”
“But what about school?” asked Owen.
“Your winter break would have started the week after next anyway and you don’t start up again until January eighth. You’re just missing an extra two weeks,” said Gram.
“Yippee!” cried Owen.
“I already called and left messages for your teachers,” said Gram. “Mrs. Maloney’s going to collect our mail, water the plants, and feed Fabiola’s chickens.”
I wished I could have told Blanca that we were leaving. She would have loved to know that I was on my way to Mexico. What if her mom got promoted to another ValueCity before we got back? Would I see her again?
I crossed the trailer and scooted in next to Gram. She put her arm around me. I looked out the window at the brown hills.
“We are on the lam,” Gram said, “and for good reason. Yesterday, I met a nice young lady lawyer who had plenty to tell me. I got temporary guardianship of you and Owen. See this folder?” Gram held up a thick envelope. “I’ve got your birth certificates and my notarized papers right here.” Gram glanced at Fabiola as if there was a secret passing between them. “We have a court hearing the day before you go back to school, January seventh. Come to find out, we have a free Legal Aid office for folks like me right in Lemon Tree. And we have Clive to thank
for giving me the idea. I just wish I’d known about such a thing sooner.”
“Does Skyla know?”
“She will as soon as she gets the notice. She’s going to pitch a fit when she finds out. Naomi, I am taking a chance by going to court and letting a judge decide on us, and I could be opening another can of worms, but I don’t see any other way.”
I scrunched up my forehead. “But what if the judge says — ”
“Do not even think that,” said Gram. “The lawyer said the court would appoint a mediator, someone who isn’t for one side or the other, to interview everyone involved, which means we will all get to answer. And on top of that, we’re going to try and find your father and ask him to help us. The lawyer said the judge would weigh his wishes very heavily. He still has rights to you, too. If I can convince him to write a letter on our behalf . . . well, he’s our ticket, Naomi. And we are going to find him. We just have to believe it. . . .” Her voice dwindled into a sigh.
I wanted to believe it. I did.
“Do you know where he . . . our father . . . lives?”
“The last I knew, he lived in Puerto Escondido, near the ocean. The only thing I know for sure is that he comes to Oaxaca City every year for a few days before Christmas for that radish-carving festival on the twenty-third.”
“What if he won’t help us?”
“Santiago was always a good, kind man,” said Gram. “I have to believe that he hasn’t changed and wants the best for you. I am . . . I am . . . locked on the prospect of finding him.”
Sitting so close, I could see dark puddles in the withered skin beneath Gram’s eyes. Her hair had not been fluffed, and she looked smaller and older and more tired than I ever remembered. I suddenly wanted to scoop her up and rock her like a baby. I looked at Fabiola, studying the map, and I could see the back of Bernardo’s head in the truck. I knew they hadn’t been planning this trip. I turned to the window. A hundred birds sat on a telephone line, and in one instant they released and lifted with stubborn determination, trailing across the sky toward somewhere.
Becoming Naomi Leon Page 7