Her chest hurt when she took a deep breath. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, she recited as she pumped around the corner and up the hill. A gust of wind blasted grit into her eyes. The foster parents she’d had right before the Melberts adopted her, a man and woman who looked strangely alike, with protruding foreheads and no chins, had called her the Waif. Their kids picked it up and the name had spread to the other kids in the neighborhood. For a whole year she was known as “Waifie” or “Wafer.”
Everyone was getting off work. The traffic made Inez feel like a leaf whirling in a surging torrent. There’d been an accident at the big intersection. A few spent flares, the rim of a headlight, pieces of plastic, and a puddle of broken glass littered the road. The last thing she needed right now was a flat. She steered carefully, remembering the Thanksgiving she’d spent with the family who called her Waifie. They’d gone to a relative’s house where there were a lot of people: cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents. People who’d known one another all their lives. They all—kids and adults alike—eyed her with curiosity, sneaking glances during dinner as if they were surprised she ate just like they did, cutting her turkey and ladling gravy over her mashed potatoes. After the meal, when the kids had gone outside to play, they had circled around her, shouting questions: Where are you from? How come you don’t say nothing? Hey, can you hear me? Do? You? Understand? They’d made ape sounds at her, scratched under their arms like monkeys. Finally she had retreated to a corner of the yard with the family dog, a smelly beagle who pushed her head under Inez’s hand the minute Inez stopped petting her. The dog had nestled close to her, sighing happily, until one of the kids noticed and alerted the others. “Hey, watch out!” he shouted. “She wants to eat your dog! She’s making friends with it so she can have it for dinner!”
Why had God put her in this place where she always felt like a stranger, Inez wondered as a truck carrying bottled water rumbled by, forcing her to ride within inches of the curb. When was He going to lead her to her true home? My days are like an evening shadow, she mumbled. I wither away like grass. Someone honked at her as they sped by, belching a cloud of exhaust. It was hard to understand what you couldn’t see, like God’s love. But God was everywhere, Inez reminded herself. She glanced from side to side as if trying to find an example of it, something she’d overlooked, but all she spotted was a row of orange cones, a TV someone had abandoned at the bus stop, a pigeon with a curled foot.
As she got closer to home, guilt took the place of sadness. She was lying, deceiving everyone. Not even a small sin, but one of the Commandments. Then came fear. Don’t let him be there, she prayed. Please, please, please. She pumped so fast she started to wheeze, her breath tearing her lungs like a sob. Don’t let his car be at the curb. Don’t let him be standing on the porch, waiting. Her calf muscles screamed, the bike jumped and jolted beneath her. She pedaled in a reckless panic, on the verge of tears. What had she been thinking? She was late, late, late.
His car wasn’t there. Relief flooded her. Everything was okay, she’d pulled it off. Again. She got off the bike and wheeled it toward the garage. Thank you, she prayed as she leaned the bike exactly as it had been before and gathered her things together. Thank you for your blessing. She had doubted for a minute; there had been a hole in her trust of God. Who was she to question His plan?
She had asked, and now she was receiving.
8
Rudy squinted into the bleached light as he drove slowly in the right lane of Pico Avenue. People pulled out from the curb without even looking. If they felt like it, they double-parked. Rudy shook his head with disgust. That fat Waller. The nerve of him, calling Rudy in and firing him then and there. Rudy’s hands felt rubbery, not at all like his own. He could hardly hold the steering wheel. His fingers tingled, almost numb. The whole airport. It had always been like that: a nest of lying, cheating vipers. If you were a hard worker and showed up on time, day after day, if you did your job the best you could, it didn’t mean a damn thing.
Nope.
Stores slid by: windows with mattresses, washing machines, televisions. Rudy imagined the huge panes of glass shattering, shards blown in all directions. He wanted to know who was behind it: who had told lies about him in the first place, who had believed them like an idiot, who had made the decision to lay him off. He had his suspicions. It took all of his concentration to keep the right amount of space between his car and the one in front of it, to push the brake at the red light, to step on the accelerator when it turned green.
God, it would be nice just to go home, to go into the bedroom, close the curtains, and slide into bed. Rudy imagined the silky feel of the quilted, emerald green bedspread pulled up to his chin. He pictured himself the way he wanted to be: lying on his back, his eyes focused on the ceiling, the room quiet and dark. But he couldn’t go home; Inez would be there. He thought of her again as she’d been on their honeymoon, when they’d gotten off the plane in Honolulu and the thick, moist air had enveloped them like a warm bath. It had made her jet black hair even more voluminous and she had laughed, trying to pat it back down to size. How strange it had been to have her things with him in the mildew-smelling hotel room: her small, patterned blouses hung up in the closet next to the short-sleeved shirts, size LARGE, that he’d bought at Mervyn’s especially for the trip; her shoes—straw-colored woven pumps and sandals made of spaghetti-thin strips of colored leather—sharing space with his canvas flip-flops and the Nike sneakers, still gleaming white, that he’d bought half-price at a close-out sale right before they left.
He’d felt like a man, a real man who lived with a woman, one half of a whole. Inez had hung up all his clothes as soon as they got to their hotel room. She had buttoned the buttons and straightened the collars of his shirts. She had arranged his underwear in the top drawer of the little bureau that held the TV. When she had gone down to the lobby to ask about the luau, whose price was included in the cost of their package, he had slipped into the bathroom and picked up the cosmetics she’d arranged on the counter. He’d opened the creams and lotions, smelled them, had even rubbed a dab of something that smelled like coconut into the palm of his hand. You can count on me, he’d said into her hair that night after they’d made love—quietly and politely and, he worried, too quickly. He couldn’t help but wonder about Vanessa’s father while he moved inside her, her hands on his shoulders and his face buried in her neck. The sheets had smelled like mildew, too. Later, when he got up from the bed and went into the bathroom for a drink of water, a roach the size of a hummingbird had flown, flown, from the shower head to the light over the sink.
He was older, much older, Inez had told him when he’d asked about Vanessa’s father. A man at my church. Powerful in the church. Very respected. From the Philippines, like me.
She had looked at Rudy, her large, steady eyes so like Vanessa’s. Deep brown, almost black.
I was too young, she said. I didn’t know.
There was no way he could go home right now. No way he could worry Inez by telling her what had happened. No reason to upset her, because he was going to straighten things out, get his job back. One way or another. He just had to think. Think! It was hard, though, with the glaring light and the cars starting and stopping, people pulling out in front of you like they were the only people in the world. A tiny old lady in a car the size of an aircraft carrier straddled the middle lane, her head barely showing over the steering wheel. God Almighty! No use mentioning a thing to Inez because before you knew it the whole thing would be straightened out.
Ahead, on the right, a shopping mall appeared. Rudy didn’t know where he was or how he’d gotten there. An underground parking garage opened up like a cavern and, on a whim, Rudy turned and headed inside. He needed to think and it felt good to get out of the traffic and under the low ceiling where it was cool and dark. Besides, he was getting hungry. The smell of gas fumes in the garage was comforting. He drove up and down the aisles, his tires squeaking. There was a space ne
xt to a pillar painted with a large pink circle and the letter B, like in Bingo. Rudy parked, got out, and locked his car. Space 21, he noted. A very lucky number.
He hadn’t been in a place like this in ages. As he waited for the elevator, he told himself there was no reason to panic. People lose their jobs all the time, and besides, he had two weeks’ pay to hold him over. Not that he’d be out that long. It was a misunderstanding. He’d clear it up in no time once he calmed down a little. He was alone in the elevator. Someone had dropped what looked like chocolate ice cream on the floor and one of his shoes stuck when the doors opened. There was a sunny brick plaza surrounded by stores, knots of people walking with oversized shopping bags. The sky opened up above him like a vacuum that could suck him straight into space. He had to steady himself a moment before he headed toward a bench where he could sit and get his bearings.
That was better. There was no reason not to enjoy himself. To sit and just be, to figure things out. He’d lost his job. Okay, that much he got. Why? That was the nitty-gritty. The tough nut to crack. The million-dollar question. His stomach rumbled. Waller, that asshole. And Latasha, grinning at what was happening. Rudy ground his teeth. The story of his life. Bad enough that bad things happened, but there always had to be someone there to see it, to take pleasure in it. People hurried around him, so many and so fast they were almost a blur. He stared at details: a woman’s painted toenails, a wristwatch on a hairy arm. His hands dangled between his legs. The sun felt good on his back.
A teenaged boy eating an ice cream cone sat down on the bench next to him. Black. He had the baggy, low-waisted pants they all wore, the same expensive tennis shoes. The boy licked the cone, looking out into the crowd.
“Where’d you get that ice cream?” Rudy asked.
“It’s not ice cream,” the kid said between licks. “It’s frozen yogurt.” He didn’t look at Rudy. His tongue was brilliant pink against his dark skin. It swiped the ice cream in broad strokes, leaving paths like a snow plow.
“Is that any good?” Rudy asked.
The boy just nodded, still not looking at him.
“What time is it?” Rudy said.
The kid looked at his watch. “One-thirty,” he said, not turning his head.
“I want to get me one of those. Where’d you get it?”
The boy lifted his hand and pointed, his arm outstretched like Columbus showing the way to the New World.
Rudy hurried over. He’d never had frozen yogurt before, and the flavors on the menu confused him. He wished he’d asked the boy what kind he had. There were two people in line ahead of him, taking their time. Rudy fidgeted. He wanted to get his cone and go back and sit down on the bench before the boy left. It would be nice to have someone to talk to.
“Did you see a kid come in here? Black kid? I want the same as he had,” Rudy said when his turn came up.
The Mexican woman behind the counter gave him a blank look. Maybe she didn’t speak English.
“A black kid,” Rudy said loudly, with careful enunciation. But it was no use. The woman just stared. “Whatever. I’ll take strawberry,” he said in disgust, ordering the first flavor on the list.
The boy was gone when Rudy got back to the bench. In his place was a white girl, maybe seven years old, wearing a midriff top with sparkles in the shape of a heart. Rudy sat down next to her.
The yogurt was cold and tasty. Real strawberry flavor. He nibbled the edge of the cone and glanced at the little girl. Vanessa had been so quiet at her age, watchful and well behaved. This one’s fingernails were painted deep purple, and several tiny braids ran through her straight blond hair. She gave off a sweet smell, like bubble gum. Rudy eyed her bare waist and glittery sandals. Who in their right mind would dress a kid like that? Like a whore, if you wanted to know the truth. And where was the mother? Really. Leaving a kid like that all alone. The black boy might still be lurking around, what if he saw her?
“What’s your name?” Rudy asked the girl.
You’d think she’d seen a ghost. She looked at Rudy like he was the one who might do something to her. She scooted to the far end of the bench and scanned the mall for her mother.
“It’s okay,” he said. “My name’s Rudy. I was just worried because I didn’t see your mama and I want to make sure nothing bad happens to you.”
The girl bolted across the walkway to a young heavyset woman in a tank top and shorts who was rushing toward the girl with a shopping bag in each hand. The girl threw her arms around the woman and buried her head in her blubbery belly. The woman bent down to talk to her. The girl turned and pointed toward Rudy, who suddenly felt skewered on the bench. He raised his half-eaten cone, as if that might explain everything.
As the two came toward him, Rudy debated whether to run or to stay and explain. He saw himself being taken away in handcuffs, pictured the police showing up at his doorstep, asking for Inez. He’d for sure never get his job back then, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. When the woman and girl reached the bench he stood, his feet apart, holding the frozen yogurt toward them like a microphone.
The girl had left her purse on the bench next to him.
“Get it and let’s go,” the woman said, shooting Rudy a dirty look. Though she was young, she had jowls already, a double chin. Her daughter, brave now that she held her mother’s hand, looked at him like he was repulsive.
“She was here all alone,” Rudy said. “You ought to be more careful.”
“You loser,” the woman said. “Why don’t you get a life?”
Rudy dumped the rest of the squishy cone in the trash. Shake it off, he told himself. Pull yourself together. The world is a crazy place. He wandered toward the stores, concentrating on walking a straight line, on putting one foot ahead of the other. Everyone carried shopping bags—some white, some red, some with a large sun printed on them. When he got to one end of the mall, he let himself be carried by the stream of people through the glass doors of a department store. The stream split into smaller rivulets that flowed between the counters of perfume and watches, handbags, gloves, and sunglasses.
He thought of Inez. His wife. He pictured the blunt ends of her thick, dark hair. Her purposeful elbows and knees. Her powdery smell, the way she absently touched her fingertips to her lips when she was thinking. She wasn’t like the usual women, who he thought of as modern women, who walked and talked like men. Bossy, hard, critical. The ones who always had an opinion and were never content with anything. He had proposed to her two months after they met because she was just what he was looking for. It didn’t bother him that she already had a child, that people at the church where they met avoided talking about who Vanessa’s father was, and why Inez had never been married to him. The whole situation made it easier for Rudy, less competition. And he had saved her, really, he had given her back her reputation. With him in the picture, no one could say a word about her or Vanessa.
Rudy stopped at a counter where gold bracelets hung like slinky snakes from the bare branch of a tree. Canned music poured down from the ceiling. Fluorescent lights reflected in milky pools on the white marble floor. Lately, Inez had been even quieter than usual. Too quiet. Spooky quiet. Watching him from the doorway while he dressed in the morning, as he finished his coffee or read the paper. Barely talking to him, just nodding at whatever he said. Losing his job was the last thing he needed right now—not that he’d lost it. There were racks of earrings on top of the counter and watches underneath in the glass cases. So many. Blue faces, gold faces, black faces. Looking at the jewelry, his heart expanded. He wondered if Inez knew that she was his home, his place in the world, the one and only body he wanted in the bed next to him.
One of the bracelets was spun of gold strands so fine he could barely feel its weight in his hand. It collapsed into a tiny heap in his palm, extended into a glittering web when he lifted it. Delicate, like Inez herself. Rudy looked at the price tag. Outrageous! He inspected a few more bracelets. Even the cheapest was far beyond his means, and a
ll his credit cards were maxed out. Still, he wanted to give her something. To show her. To bring back the old feeling.
The clerk was on the other side of the counter, talking to a woman whose bronzed skin matched the color of her hair. He had heard that there were hidden cameras in the ceilings and undercover cops posing as shoppers. The thing to do was to avoid looking suspicious. The bracelet slid so quickly and easily into Rudy’s pocket that it startled him, as if it had slithered there on its own. A jolt of terror shot up each arm. His armpits prickled. After glancing quickly to the left and right, he pretended to consider a few more bracelets before moving casually on, his face a study of nonchalance.
The purses and wallets were just a few counters over. No one seemed to be following him, and his heart gradually slowed to almost normal. The canned music, the fluorescent lights, the thick aroma of perfume made him feel giddy. He was proud of Inez, of having her as his wife. Other men envied him, he could tell. They were jealous of the quiet way she deferred to him, of the way she showed her respect. No question who was boss. He lifted a kidskin wallet, as light and pliable as paper, out of its box. It was a beautiful tawny color, with tiny stitching and a built-in change purse. And she took so much care with the way she looked: her hair and makeup, her clothes always perfect. For him, to please him. Slim hips and big breasts. His and his alone.
Rudy’s pants fit loosely, and the pockets were big. He put the wallet back in the box and slipped it into his pocket with the bracelet. The jolts buzzed up his arms again, but not as strong as the last time. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, he laughed to himself. This was easy! He felt strangely excited, happy even.
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