This Side of Providence

by Rachel M. Harper

  Snowman gave me a pager to wear and he said not to turn it off, even when I go to sleep. He never pages me in the middle of the night, but I’m always ready, just in case. The only time I turn it off is when I go to visit César because the nurse says it messes with the machines that check his heartbeat. He should be getting off those soon and if everything checks out they’ll let him come home before school starts. Now that he’s awake they make him get out of bed every day and walk a few steps in the hallway. His right eye is still covered by the bandage and he says the left is kind of blurry so he’s pretty much doing it blind. Today he’s trying to walk from his room to the nurse’s station ’cause he gets a lollipop if he makes it the whole way without stopping. Now he says it’s his favorite candy, but before he got shot it was bubble gum. The chewing makes his head hurt so he had to stop.

  His legs are so skinny and pale they remind me of chopsticks, and he looks like he could splinter with each step. At first he holds onto the wall and shuffles his feet, like how Trini used to when she was learning to walk, but when he’s halfway there he steps into the middle of the hallway. All he’s got to lean on is this metal pole, kinda like a cane on wheels, except this one holds a plastic bag hooked into his arm. The nurse says it feeds him sugar water through a tube so he never gets thirsty. The pole looks like it could snap, so I walk up next to him and give him my shoulder. I thought he would only use it to steady himself a little bit, but he wraps his arm around me and I walk with him down to the nurse’s station. He keeps his eyes on the ground with every step, not looking at any of us. I can hear how hard it is for him to breathe, how his chest rattles like an old man, and I’m scared that he’s going to pass out right there with only me to catch him.

  When we get to the end of the hallway he says he wants to rest and he leans against the wall with his free hand. The nurses clap and bring him the lollipop, which he slips into the pocket of his bathrobe.

  I start to step away, but his fingers dig into my shoulder like he’s falling off a cliff and he says, “Don’t go, Cristo. Please.”

  So I stand right next to him, holding him up, and promise to stay like that as long as he needs me.

  There’s mail waiting for me on the kitchen table when I get home from the hospital. The first letter I ever got. No return address, but I recognize the handwriting as Mami’s. Hard to believe she sat still long enough to write anything down. It’s funny to see my name on the envelope, like I’m somebody important.

  I sit down and open the letter slowly. The only light in the room is coming from the streetlight outside. My stomach flips, like when you open a birthday present you think you’re not going to like.

  Dear Cristo,

  Hello my sweet boy. This is your mother, in case you don’t know my handwriting. I’m writing this letter slow so the ink don’t smudge and you can read it clear. In case you want to know, I am good. My hair is long so I usually wear it back in a ponytail, like how you like it. The dye is growing out so half of it’s dark now. I look like a skunk. If that ain’t bad enough, I’m gaining weight from all the pasta they feed us in here. It’s mushy like how Luz cooks it, you remember? But I’m not complaining. At least it’s all free, right? I can hear you right now saying, “Mami, that’s not funny,” and you’re right, of course. But people make jokes when they need them. So I guess that’s my way of telling you I need it.

  How are you and your sisters? I know you are taking good care of them so I don’t have to ask. You ready for school to start? I hope this was an OK summer. It’s been hard I bet, but I know there were good times too. Even in here there are good times, like when they serve chocolate pudding for dessert or when we get to see a baseball game on TV. We live for those moments.

  I call you every Sunday, but the phone just rings and rings. I’m guessing Lucho turned it off. I know you can’t hear my voice, but try to remember that I am with you always, in the air that we breathe and the sky that floats above us. I am always your mother. And I miss you very much.

  When I get home I’m going to tell you the truth. Life is hard for people like me. I made mistakes. But I’m OK now. I’m better. But I’m gonna need your help to stay that way. Can you do that for your mother? Can you help me?

  Te quiero mucho, mijo. Siempre.

  Your loving Mami

  I fold the letter back up and leave it on the table like how I found it. The windows are closed and the room is hot, but I’m starting to feel cold, like I’m sitting in front of the AC. Kinda funny, since we don’t even have a fan. All of a sudden I hear the ticking of a clock I don’t remember we had. I look around the room and after a while I see it sitting on the wall above the cabinets, a small yellow clock with a picture of a bird on its face. An eagle, I think, with its wings spread wide like a cape. The time is way off so the batteries must almost be dead. Probably something Mami bought at the flea market because it reminded her of Puerto Rico. I wonder what she has on the walls in her jail cell to remind her of us. Not a picture, she needs something with weight. Maybe I should send her the clock, or a frying pan, or that radio she used to listen to for hours. Something she can hold onto or throw against the wall if she needs to. Something that will remind her of the things she left behind.

  Hearing her voice in my head makes me miss her all over again. I thought it would be okay for her to be gone this long, since we never really spent that much time together, but it’s not. I always knew she was around before. I could find her when I needed to.

  I use my chair as a stool and reach for the clock. When I turn it over to check the batteries, I see a wad of bills taped to the backside. I tear off the tape and count the money: sixty-seven dollars in tens, fives, and ones. The presents are with the birds, Mami had said. Is this what she meant? I look at the front of the clock. The bird stares back at me. One bird. But then I see it: above the eagle’s wing there’s another bird, a smaller one flying back to the nest, back to his mother. The presents are with the birds. They’ve been here the whole time.

  I tuck the money in my pocket and search the drawers for new batteries. When I can’t find any I take one from the smoke alarm in the ceiling and put it in the clock. Then I set the time and clean the front with my T-shirt before putting it back on the wall. I look at the eagles, wishing I could be that little bird right now, flying across the city to see his mother.

  Scottie shows up early the next Saturday, before we have time to get Trini ready. When he honks Luz is brushing Trini’s hair and I’m looking through the dirty clothes for a semi-clean dress for her to wear. We take so long Scottie gets out of the car and walks into the house.

  “What the fuck happened here?” He lifts his sunglasses and looks around the room, squinting.

  “Nothing,” I say, shoving the clothes into a pile with my foot. “We’ve been busy.”

  “Yeah, busy turning this place into a pigsty.” Scottie steps on a pizza box and almost trips. “What’s wrong with that chick, it’s like she’s letting you guys run the house.”

  “She works a lot,” I say.

  “All the time,” Luz adds.

  “And there’s not a lot of time to clean.” I put the pile back into the laundry hamper.

  Trini runs by in a T-shirt with no underwear, laughing uncontrollably.

  “Hey, you think that’s funny? Running around like a tramp with no underpants on?” Scottie points toward the bedroom. “Go get dressed. Now.”

  She listens to him, but walks away with a smile on her face. I nod for Luz to follow her to the room, hoping she can find something decent to put on her.

  Scottie sniffs an empty carton of milk that’s been sitting out for a few days. His face curls in disgust. He walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge. After a second he shakes his head. “Looks like she’s cooking some real gourmet food, huh? I bet you’re missing your mom right about now.”

  “It’s not that bad,” I tell him, collecting a bunch of the garbage in my arms. I go to throw it out but the trash can is already full. It should h
ave gone out weeks ago, but the can is so big I can’t drag it to the curb by myself. I put the garbage on the floor, starting another pile.

  “I hope not, kid. ’Cause it looks really bad.”

  He walks around the apartment, peeking his head into every corner. He goes to Mami’s bedroom last. The room is spotless, probably cleaner than when she left it. The bed looks like it never gets slept in.

  “You know what I think?” He sits down on the bed. “I think you’ve been lying to me. I think Lucho never lived here, and that you kids have been living here by yourselves all along.”

  “No way, Lucho was here. She slept right there.” I point to the other side of the bed. The side that used to be his.

  “Sure, when your mother was here. I bet she slept here all the time. And it pisses me off, too, don’t think it doesn’t.” He stands up, turning around to fix the blanket where he was sitting. “But when Arcelia left, she left. There was nothing else to keep her here.”

  “That’s not how it happened, Scottie.”

  “But it happened didn’t it? She left you guys alone.”

  I don’t say anymore. We stand there in silence, staring at each other. After a while Luz walks into the room holding Trini’s hand.

  “Okay, she’s all set.” She hands Scottie a pink bag with a picture of Barbie painted on the outside. “I put in some dolls and books and an extra change of clothes, just in case.”

  “You know what,” Scottie says, “we’re gonna need a lot more than that.”

  He picks Trini up and carries her back into our bedroom, asking her to point to her favorite things. Trini says the window is her favorite thing. He stuffs the bag with as many clothes as he can and tucks a few stuffed animals in his armpit. He grabs her blanket from the crib but Luz tears it away from him.

  “What are you doing?” Luz asks. “Cristo, what’s he doing?”

  I look at her but don’t say anything.

  “Well, do something, don’t just stand there. Stop him.” Luz throws herself at Scottie and starts pulling the stuffed animals from his arms. He shoves her away and she falls to the ground, knocking her head on the bed frame. It sounds like a watermelon hitting the ground.

  “Don’t touch her.” I get in Scottie’s face. “Don’t you dare touch my sister.” I help Luz get up and we stand together, blocking his way out of the room.

  “Move, Cristo.” I can tell by the tone of his voice he’s getting angry. “Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”

  I look up at Scottie, who towers over me like a building. “I can’t make you do anything.”

  “You’re right,” he says. Then he walks straight through us like we’re not even there. I grab onto his belt buckle, but he knocks me off with a backhand. His fist feels like a boot in my chest. He covers my face with his hand and pushes me to the ground. “Stay down, kid. Don’t make me fight you.”

  “Fuck off.”

  When I stand up I come face to face with his fist, which is as hard as a doorknob. I feel needles coming from my nose and suddenly I can’t breathe. The right side of my face goes numb. Blood spills into my mouth and I bend over to spit it onto the carpet. One of my silver teeth, smooth and pointed like a bullet, sits in the middle of the pool of blood.

  Scottie rubs his hand. “Damn you got a hard head.” Then he grabs Trini and walks out of the room.

  More blood pours from my nose as I stand up. I wipe it on the back of my hand. Luz picks up my tooth but I can’t see what she does with it. She runs to the door after him. “Why are you doing this? Why are you taking her?”

  Trini is crying and yelling, “No, no, no” over and over again. Scottie tries to keep her quiet by covering her mouth with his hand. She flops in his arms like a huge fish.

  “She’s my daughter,” he says, struggling to keep hold of her. “I’m just trying to protect her.”

  “And what about us?” Luz follows him down the stairs, her face filled with fury. “Why don’t you want to protect us?”

  Scottie stops next to his car, which is parked sideways in the driveway like a blind person was driving. “I’m calling the social worker when I get home. You guys shouldn’t be living here, not alone like this. It ain’t right.” He shoves Trini into the car and buckles her into the backseat, ignoring the car seat that waits in the driveway like a well-trained dog.

  “This ain’t right, Scottie,” I say. “You taking Trini like this ain’t right.” I spit a chunk of bloody snot onto the sidewalk. The hole where my tooth used to be starts to ache, but I ignore it. Trini is still crying as she waves good-bye with two hands, one for each of us. I force myself to wave back.

  Luz looks at me. “Cristo. Please.”

  I turn away. “What do you want me to do? He’s her father.”

  “I don’t care,” Luz says. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  Scottie looks back at us. He stands next to the car, his hand on the opened door.

  “What do you guys want from me?” He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what we’re doing to him. “You know I can’t take all three of you. You aren’t even my kids for Christ sake.”

  “Fuck you, Scottie,” I say. “Fuck you and fuck the social worker and fuck Lucho. We don’t need any of you.” I give him the finger as he hops into the car and drives away.

  “Come on, Luz, come inside.” I poke her in the arm. “We don’t need the whole neighborhood knowing our business.” I walk back to the porch, hoping she’ll follow.

  She turns her head to me without moving the rest of her body. Her face has no expression, but her eyes are filled with tears. I don’t remember the last time I saw her cry.

  “I can’t believe this,” she says. She blinks to keep the tears from falling. “I can’t believe he would do that.”

  “Why not? He’s always been an asshole. Some things don’t change.”

  “He took her like she was a piece of furniture. Like he owns her.” She slowly climbs up the stairs, coming to stand next to me on the porch. “We have to get her back, Cristo. I don’t know how, but we have to do something.”

  “I know.” I don’t say it out loud, but all I can think is it would kill Mami if she knew what Scottie just did. It would make her want to kill.

  “He’s right about one thing,” I tell her. “We aren’t his. We don’t belong with him.”

  Luz looks down at her feet. “Sometimes I used to wish he was our real father, when he and Mami were together and he used to do nice things for us. But now I’m happy he’s not.” She picks up a sock that’s lying on the porch and tucks it into her pocket. “I just wish he wasn’t Trini’s either. Then he would forget about her just like he’s forgotten about us.”

  I nod, even though I don’t agree with her, because I know she needs me to. Now that it’s just the two of us, I’m gonna have to do a lot of things I don’t want to do, like spend extra time with her like when we were little and I couldn’t get her to stop following me around.

  We walk inside and clean up the best we can. If Scottie really does call the social worker, I figure we only got a day or two in this place, until some lady from DCYF shows up asking lots of questions about where our guardian went. I don’t say anything to Luz, but in my mind I’m packing up the house already, taking only the small things we can carry on our backs. Fuck if I know where to go, but if Scottie calls the state we can’t stay here. Lots of kids from school end up in foster homes and from what they say it never works out. They think kids can’t take care of themselves, but we’ve done okay so far. Nobody died and we didn’t burn the house down, and before Scottie flipped out all three of us were still together. Adults always think they know what’s best, but all I ever see is them making everything worse.

  The fridge is empty so I make oatmeal for dinner, with nondairy creamer and Sweet’n Low I grabbed from Dunkin’ Donuts. My mouth still hurts from where Scottie popped me, so I ask Luz to check it out after we eat. We find a piece of tinfoil to use as a mirror and stand under the brightest
light in the kitchen.

  “It looks okay,” she says, poking around in my mouth with a chopstick. “The bleeding stopped.”

  I feel the fleshy gum with my tongue. “It feels like a piece of the tooth is still in there.”

  “I don’t see anything.” She pokes it again, which makes me cry out. A hot pain shoots into my skull, worse than an ice cream headache.

  “Jesus Christ, Luz.”

  “Sorry.”

  I grab the tinfoil away from her and look for myself. It looks better than how it feels in my mouth so I decide to forget about it.

  “At least it’s on the bottom,” Luz says. “Nobody will be able to see it unless you smile real big.”

  I ignore her lame joke and ask her what she did with the tooth.

  “I put it in Mami’s jewelry box, with Trini’s baby teeth. In case she wants to see it.”

  I laugh. “She don’t want my busted tooth.”

  “You never know,” Luz says. “She’s kept stranger things.” We both look at the clock with the eagles on it and I’m about to tell her about the money when she hands me a bottle of baby aspirin.

  “Here, I found these in the medicine cabinet. For the pain,” she says.

  I grab a few and chew them up into a sweet cherry paste, which I jam into the toothless gum with the tip of my tongue. It burns a little, but then goes numb.

  We play a few games of dominoes before bed. I let Luz beat me so she’ll go to bed happy. When she asks for a bedtime snack I think about using some of the money from Mami’s clock to buy a couple of pizzas, but I figure if I spend it on food it will disappear by the end of the weekend. Instead, I empty packets of soy sauce into a bowl and we dip stale crackers into it. I thought we gave Trini the last of the powdered milk, but Luz finds some in a box under the sink. She offers to share it with me but there’s only enough for one cup and I want one of us to feel full. She drinks it fast like she doesn’t want me to feel bad and then fills the cup with water and drinks that, too.