Love Like Sky

by Leslie C. Youngblood

  “Time to get used to the Frankster.”

  I almost didn’t answer, surprised that he didn’t say anything about my sassiness. “I like when you call him Dr. Frankenstein better.”

  He chuckled. “I shouldn’t have started that. I was being immature.”

  “So you saying it’s Mama’s fault you haven’t been around?”

  “Not at all. I’m going to do better. Starting today. You two getting along with his daughter?”

  “So-so,” I said, even though it was a disaster. But I didn’t need him spouting off to Mama on my behalf. “If we have to get used to Frank, shouldn’t you have to be around Tangie?”

  “You mean taking her out with us?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Well, it’s not that easy when the kid is older. But that’s a good idea. I’ll be sure to ask her next time, okay, baby?”

  His voice was too soothing, and he called me “baby.” Not “Georgie,” or “G-baby,” but “baby.”

  Bad news coming right up.

  Peaches snorted, and I looked back at her.

  “What time did she get to bed last night?” Daddy asked. “She’s usually into her second story before we hit our first stop sign.”

  “She woke up early and had her favorite breakfast.”

  “Biscuit with extra strawberry syrup?”

  I laughed. “A couple. I think it zonked her out.”

  When Daddy got off the highway, I knew where we were going—Monster Miniature Golf. It was a haunted house for putt-putt, open all year. Daddy wanted to mold one of us into a female Tiger Woods. It was in College Park, which wasn’t that far from the Atlanta airport. Whenever we’d see a plane coming in to land, Peaches pointed up to it like it was a pterodactyl. But I really didn’t care where we were, or what we were doing, as long as we didn’t have to share him.

  “Think your sister will be up for some golf?”

  “She’ll be excited.”

  Peaches kicked the back of my seat in her sleep. When I peeped over, she opened her eyes.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Seconds later, Daddy pulled into Monster Golf. In the center of the parking lot stood a huge Godzilla with pointy teeth. It would’ve been more convincing if the pigeons hadn’t built a nest on its head.

  “We’re here!” Daddy said like we’d landed on the moon.

  Peaches didn’t squeal or reach for her seat belt. Daddy hopped out and unbuckled Peaches, then she grabbed his hand and mine.

  “Ready for me to beat my girls at putt-putt?”

  “You never win, Daddy,” Peaches said.

  As soon as we opened the doors, a skinny girl with white makeup and lipstick for blood running down the side of her face greeted us.

  “You got me shaking in my boots,” Daddy said.

  She smiled and slid Daddy a flyer showing the summer specials. “Three today?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Daddy said. He opened his wallet as she scanned the coupons. “We’re in luck, girls. Two-for-one cotton candy.”

  There were about twenty other people in the place, and Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” blasted from the speakers. I was nervous, like that girl in the “Thriller” video, waiting for Millipede to pop up at any second.

  But even after four games of putt-putt and a wad of cotton candy, we were safe. That was until Daddy said, “My girls ready for lunch?”

  We were walking from the course and back inside the haunted house, where Daddy had to pay the bill. “Monster Mash” was playing for about the fiftieth time.

  Peaches raised her hand. “I am.”

  “Not really,” I said, and narrowed my eyes at Daddy.

  “Me either,” Peaches said.

  “Well, Millicent would like to cook lunch for us.”

  I knew it.

  I pounded the artificial grass with my club. “You said this was our time.”

  “Now, baby. It is. It’s us right now, right?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “But just like you two need to get used to Frank, I want you to also be comfortable around Millicent.”

  We checked out and walked toward the exit. Once we got in the car, Peaches talked about hitting the ball in the goblin’s mouth for about five minutes before she fell asleep again.

  “You know, you gotta give Millicent a chance.”

  “Okay, Daddy,” I said, thinking of Peaches. She’d take time with Daddy any way she could get it. Helping her with that whole “adjusting” thing was like what Grandma Sugar said sometimes: it was wearing on my nerves.

  As Daddy drove, the streets and signs became familiar. Chestnut Street, Baker…We were in our old neighborhood. Had he read my mind? Was he taking me to see Nikki? Did Mama mention how responsible I’d been that morning?

  After a while, we veered down Black Swan Drive and into our old driveway. Daddy parked.

  “Surprise!”

  I turned toward him. “You know the people who bought our house, Daddy?”

  “Yes, siree, Bob.”

  “Was it Grandma Sugar? Did Sugar buy it?”

  “Nope!”

  “Who?”

  “You’re looking at him!”

  I undid my seat belt, hoping that what Daddy said wouldn’t change. “Really? I thought you and Millipe—Millicent moved out to Decatur. There was a For Sale sign in the yard.”

  “Do you see one now?”

  Just like in Snellville there were trees all around, but underneath some of the trees in our old neighborhood were sidewalks with pastel color chalk, bike skid marks, and cracks that we’d say if you stepped on one, “You’ll break your mother’s back.”

  “Peaches! Peaches! We get to be in our old rooms! We can see our friends, Peaches. Our friends!”

  “We’re visiting our used-to-be house?” Peaches asked.

  She wasn’t moving fast enough, so I jumped out, opened her door, and started unbuckling her seat belt. “We can play at our old house?” I whipped around to Daddy. “Does Mama know?”

  “Yes, siree! We wanted to surprise you two.”

  Whew, that’s a relief. Didn’t want another dealership situation, or for Daddy to do anything behind Mama’s back. That’s one rule I learned about divorced parents: unless they tell each other their every move, it’s suddenly “behind my back.”

  As I was getting ready to hug Daddy’s neck, who should appear on the porch but Millipede wearing overalls like she was the farmer in the dell. Daddy reached for our hands. Peaches grabbed his, but I folded my arms across my chest as we walked toward Millipede.

  She stood on the porch fanning her hands like they were on fire. “You girls have gotten so big,” she said.

  “I wear a size thirteen shoe now.” Peaches wiggled her Big Bird tennis shoes.

  “Wow, and what neat sneakers those are. And look at you, Georgiana. I swear, you have grown a mile.”

  “She’s almost taller than Mama,” Peaches said.

  Millipede smiled. “You two are as pretty as you wanna be.”

  Daddy’s eyes fixed on me as we walked into the house.

  “Thanks,” I said so softly even I barely heard it.

  “Is this my house or a soul food kitchen?” Daddy asked.

  That made me mad, because he used to say that to Mama. But unlike Mama, who could make a shoe taste good, Millipede couldn’t cook worth a dang.

  “Were you surprised, Georgiana?” Millipede asked.

  “Not really. It’s just our old house. Our new house is bigger and we might get a pool.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was fooling Millipede or not, but I didn’t want her to have any part in making me happy. The living room seemed twice as big without our giant couch, bookcases, and our china cabinet that Peaches used to think meant the real place in Asia.

  Daddy was quiet, but Millipede kept yapping, her natural hair twisted and flopping around like curly fries.

  “Well, we haven’t decorated much in the living room or dining room yet.
We can get started on your rooms as soon as you like.”

  “Mama already let us decorate our rooms. Not like we’ll be living here,” I said.

  “I want to decorate, G-baby,” Peaches said.

  “Milli, why don’t you take Peaches to wash her hands?” Daddy said.

  Peaches held up her hands. “I can do it myself.”

  “Can I wash mine with you?” Millipede asked.

  “Okay,” Peaches said.

  I started to follow them, but Daddy’s hand dropped on my shoulder like a cement block.

  “You stay with me for a second.” When Peaches and Millipede were down the hall, he lifted up my chin and waited until I met his eyes. “I get that this is hard, Georgie. But you got to try here. Millicent agreed to live in this house because she realized how much it means for me to be able to do this for my girls.”

  “Mama wanted to stay here.”

  He removed his hand from my chin and softly rubbed my cheek. I fought back a smile. “You’re right. But Frank bought a new house, and just like you said, bigger than this one, and in a top school district, you name it. And he has a daughter who also needs stability. Millicent agreed to this for us. So what you think about trying to be nice to her?”

  “Can I go to Nikki’s?”

  “Is that all you got to say?”

  “Can I go to Nikki’s, please?”

  Daddy took my hand, and we sat down on the leather couch. Mama would never let Daddy get a leather couch. She said she didn’t know why anyone would want leather sticking to their legs in their own home. Now Daddy had a whole living room full of it.

  “Georgie, no one is expecting you to act like Millicent is your mama. But we raised you to be respectful, so I know you can do better than what you’re doing.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Peaches is watching you,” he said.

  “I know. I know. I gotta help her adjust.”

  Daddy put his arms around my shoulders and pulled me closer, the leather ripping from my legs.

  “We’re all trying to help each other. That’s the best any of us can do right now.” He kissed my forehead.

  “I won’t be a smart aleck.”

  “Promise?”

  “Scout’s honor,” I said, and he wrinkled his brow.“Think I can go to Nikki’s before it gets dark?”

  “Baby, let’s enjoy family time. No Nikki’s today. I’ll make it a point to invite her out with us next time, though, if you want. So can we agree on that? Fair deal?”

  “Fair deal.”

  Daddy stood up and extended his hand. “Good doing business with you, young lady.”

  “My pleasure, sir.” I shook his hand.

  I crossed my fingers behind my back. If Daddy didn’t have to keep his word all the time, why should I?

  “Georgiana,” Millipede said, as she and Peaches breezed into the living room.

  As politely as I could, I said, “It’s Georgie.”

  “Sorry…Sorry, Georgie. You want to get washed up and come help Peaches and me set the table?”

  “Sure!”

  Millipede smashed me into her bosom like she was Grandma Sugar. “Thank you, Georgie.”

  Somebody seeing the way she rocked when she squeezed me would have thought I’d saved her cat from a fire.

  I played right along with it. Once she finished rocking me to death, she let me breathe for a minute, and I left to wash my hands. When I got back, she slung her arm over my shoulder and grabbed Peaches’s hand, and we went to set the table.

  Even though she’d done little to the living room, Millipede had spent a lot of time fixin’ up the kitchen. Betty Boop was everywhere. There was a Betty Boop menu board with Millicent’s Kitchen written on it. Dish towels, salt and pepper shakers, and a rug each had a wide-eyed Betty Boop.

  “Wow!” Peaches said.

  Millipede spread her arms wide. “You like it?”

  Peaches walked around like she was at Six Flags Over Georgia. “Ooooh. Betty Boop?”

  “Yep. She’s my favorite. When I found out that the character of Betty Boop was stolen from a black woman, Esther Jones, I went a little overboard. Used to have her all over my bedroom. I couldn’t put your daddy through that, so here she is.”

  Peaches poked the Betty Boop figure on top of the cookie jar and watched it wobble. “It’s more funner than our kitchen.”

  I sighed. “‘Funner’ isn’t a word.”

  “It’s funnier than our kitchen.”

  Millipede turned to me. “You like her, Georgie?”

  “She’s okay.” I wanted to ask Millipede more about Betty Boop, but I stayed focused on downing lunch and checking the time on the Betty Boop clock that had lips in place of numbers.

  I put on an extra smile. “Whatever you have in the oven smells tasty.”

  Peaches rubbed her stomach. “Real yummy.”

  “I hope you two like it. Found a recipe for it on the internet last night. You girls go on ahead and set the table. I’ll get the salad.”

  Millipede handed me four red plates and four shiny forks. She passed napkins and those indestructible plastic glasses to Peaches. When Millipede took out the salad, I said, “That looks delicious,” even though it looked like something that Tangie would eat.

  “Whew, good, I worried that I overdid it with the raisins, nuts, cranberries, and apples.”

  Daddy stood in the living room with his back to us. He had one hand gripping his cell phone to his ear and the other squeezing the back of his neck. That’s how Mama talked to him sometimes, too. I guess falling out of love made your neck hurt.

  “They’re fine…. She’s fine…a little drowsy is all. Putt-putt energized her….We didn’t eat there. Getting ready for lunch right now…. Yep, they were both surprised. She’s coming around…. Takes time. Why now? I’ll have them call you before bedtime. I don’t do this to you…. You don’t have to remind me about that. Yeah, okay, I’ll check it. There’s one here. I know how to look after my girls, Katrina.”

  No more Kit-Kat.

  Peaches didn’t ask to speak with Mama. She was too busy folding napkins into pyramids and biting her lip, concentrating on matching the corners.

  Once Daddy, Peaches, and I sat down at the table, out came Millipede with her Betty Boop oven mitts, holding what looked like a chunk of the moon with millions of craters.

  “If it isn’t burnt, I’ve outdone myself.”

  I sniffed the air. “Smells scrumptious!”

  “Scrumptious,” Peaches repeated.

  When Daddy eyed me and squinted, I knew I was overdoing it.

  Millipede set the dish in the middle of the table. “Thank you, Georgie. Thank you.”

  Overdoing it or not, I was getting to Nikki’s.

  We hadn’t been eating lunch but ten minutes before Peaches said, “I’m not feeling too good, Daddy.”

  “What’s the matter, Peaches?” Millipede asked.

  When did your name become “Daddy”?

  “My stomach hurts,” Peaches whined, and dropped her fork in the middle of her Tater Tots and Velveeta casserole.

  Daddy reached over and gently squeezed her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have let you two have so much cotton candy.”

  A part of me was glad that we didn’t have to be Millipede’s internet-recipe guinea pigs for dessert.

  “Let me take you two up to get you settled,” Millipede said.

  “I can handle it, Millicent,” I offered.

  “You just want to take a little nap, huh, Peaches?” She nodded and I took her hand. It felt warmer than usual, probably from all the excitement. “I take care of her all the time at home, Daddy.”

  “I know you do,” he said.

  “I’m a little sleepy, too,” I fibbed. It seemed like the best escape route.

  “Okay. You two go on and rest. I will be up and check on you in a bit,” Daddy said.

  I took Peaches’s hand, and we headed upstairs. We both hooked a left straight to our old room. Two twin beds with
light green comforters and a tall chest sat waiting for us. The walls were bare and the knickknacks that made it ours were gone. Though it was our “old” room, it felt as unfamiliar as a new school. It was like when I’d see someone who I used to know in first grade: we were not strangers, but we had to become friends all over again.

  Peaches flopped on the bed without taking off her shoes, so I did it for her.

  “It’s probably just that brick Millicent called a casserole that made your tummy hurt.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Daddy’s gonna come check on us in a second. Just pretend you’re sleeping, okay?”

  “Think I wanna go to Mama, G-baby,” she mumbled.

  “I’ll call her later for you, okay? Right now, we need to stay at Daddy’s.”

  “Why? You didn’t even want to come.”

  “Know how I always help you and dance for you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I need you to help me now. Just pretend you’re sleeping. Can you do it?”

  She nodded and disappeared under the blanket.

  I kicked off my shoes, jumped in the bed, and waited.

  Less than ten minutes later, Daddy opened the door.

  “G-baby? Peaches?” I peeked at him but didn’t stir. Neither did Peaches. He left the door cracked and headed back downstairs. I jumped up, and I did one of the oldest tricks I knew, stuffed two pillows underneath the sheets.

  I tiptoed over to Peaches and nudged her shoulder. I didn’t need her waking up and freaking out when she hopped in the bed with me and found the pillows.

  “I’m going to Nikki’s. But you can’t tell Daddy, okay?”

  “I really feel sick. I wanna go to Mama.”

  “You’ll be okay, Peaches. We’ll go home tomorrow and eat Mama’s cooking. We’ll make up our own dances, too. Wouldn’t you like that?”

  “Uh-huh. Can we call it ‘the Georgie Peaches’?”

  “Sure can. Just don’t get up. Be a big girl for me.”

  “You won’t stay long.”

  “No, gotta talk to Nikki about something, and I’ll be back. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said. I kissed her cheek. She still felt a little warm, so I took the blanket off her. When I got back, I’d tell Daddy to give her some Pepto-Bismol. I’d even take some, too.