The Summer Kitchen

by Lisa Wingate

  Rusty noticed Opal’s feet. “How come she’s got two different shoes on?”

  “That’s all she has,” I told him. I didn’t want him to think I’d done the shoe thing on purpose. “Her mom didn’t bring her anything else. I went through their stuff and took Opal’s to wash. She’s only got a few things.”

  “Kiki had to grab what she could.” Rusty stopped to lock the door. “Her old man threw their stuff out in the yard after he beat her up. She had to wait until he was gone before she could pick up whatever was left.”

  “Geez. Where’d they go when he threw them out?” The night Rusty brought her home, the shiner on Kiki’s eye wasn’t brand-new. By then, it was already swole up and the blood had dried.

  Rusty looked over his shoulder at Opal while he checked the door. “They just started walking and looking for a place. They ended up in some of the condos that were almost finished down at the construction site. Security ran them out, but when I went back and checked later, they were there again, curled up on the cement under the stairs. I figured if the night guard found them, they’d get arrested, so I asked her if I could give her a ride someplace. We drove around a while, but she didn’t have anywhere to go.”

  “Geez,” I muttered again. I looked at Opal and thought about her sleeping on the cement in the dark. Our junky little apartment must of seemed really good after that. It’s funny how when you think you’ve got problems, you usually don’t have to look far to find someone who’s in a lot worse shape. Count your blessings, not your troubles, Mama would of said.

  Rusty picked up Opal with his good arm when we got down the stairs. With her little legs, she couldn’t even come close to staying up with him. I had to jog just to keep from getting left behind while we walked. I reached across and wiped Opal’s face with the napkin, then threw it in the Dumpster.

  “We’ll get her some shoes,” Rusty said. Opal looked excited, but I knew there wasn’t any way we were gonna be buying shoes anytime soon.

  When we got to Wal-Mart, all Rusty wanted to do was look for shoes for Opal. By then, he had her so worked up, she was bouncing up and down and saying, “Tshoo, tshoo, tshoo, newww tshoo!”

  While I went and picked out groceries, adding the prices up in my head until I had all we could pay for, Rusty took off with Opal. He patted her on the head and told her to “C’mere,” like she was that dog of his back home. He liked that dog better than he liked any of his girlfriends. Missy sat right in the front seat of the truck whenever Rusty drove it. There was always a big circle of gray cow-dog hair to stick to your butt when you got in the passenger side.

  After we moved in at Roger’s, Missy disappeared. Roger said she ran away while we were at school, but I figured he took her and got rid of her someplace, because she didn’t like Roger any better than we did. I thought Rusty was gonna kill Roger, but Mama was there on the couch sick, so Rusty just walked out the door and went all over town looking for his dog. I figured he wouldn’t find her, and he didn’t.

  Opal and Rusty came back from the shoe department with a pair of little pink plastic clogs that were on clearance for three dollars. They had flowers painted across the straps and rhinestones on the toes. Opal hugged them under her chin while me and Rusty argued about whether or not we’d have enough money for the groceries, plus shoes. Rusty was never worth a flip at math. I told him we wouldn’t have enough, and we didn’t. At the checkout, I had to take off a jumbo bargain bag of Frosted Fruity O’s I figured we could eat on for about three days.

  “I told you we didn’t have enough.” My face turned hot, and Rusty walked off while I stood looking at the groceries, trying to think what else to give up. I didn’t grab Opal’s shoes, because she was standing on her tiptoes watching them with her fingers wrapped around the edge of the counter.

  I picked up the jelly, because it was a dollar, and we could still make peanut butter sandwiches without it. The clerk, a big black lady with her hair in about a million long braids, laid her hand over mine and pushed the jelly back into the pile, and then the Fruity O’s, too. “Here, honey.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out some folded bills. “I figured they was some reason for that three dollars in my pocket today.”

  My face got really hot when her hand put the dollar bills in mine. She covered them over with her fingers for a minute. Her long pink fingernails had little diamonds on the ends, like Opal’s new shoes.

  I didn’t look up at her, just nodded and counted money in my head again. All I could think was that at first I didn’t want to go through her line because she looked like the lady who locked her kids out on the steps. Rusty made me use her checkout because it had the shortest line.

  “Things’ll get better.” She squeezed my hand, and then she let go, and I had the money for Opal’s shoes, and jelly, and cereal.

  Opal stretched up so that her eyes poked above the edge of the counter. The lady laughed at her, then picked up the shoes and handed them over. “Here you go, shug. You’ll look real good in those pretty little shoes.”

  Hugging the clogs under her chin, Opal rocked back and forth. When we left with our groceries, she turned around and waved, but the lady was already busy helping the next person in line.

  I thought about that lady when I was trying to get to sleep on the sofa that night. I kept trying to think why, of all the people she checked out, she decided to give that money to us, and then I thought that I almost didn’t go through her line because of the way she looked. It sure was lucky hers was the shortest, but then, luck is really just the angels blowing you a kiss.

  I fell asleep feeling like there were angels all around me. Even when Kiki knocked at the door and came stumbling in from work about midnight, that soft, sweet feeling didn’t leave. I didn’t gripe at her and tell her to be quiet, or feel myself fill up with hate, like I normally would of. I just squinted across in the dark and whispered, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she said softly, and crossed the room with her heels making uneven sounds on the floor. Her silhouette was crouched over, and she was holding her ribs. She lost her balance and fell against the stove as I crawled back into my sleeping bag.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” She sighed, then disappeared into the bathroom. She must of fallen against the wall in there, because she made a crash, and Rusty got up to check on her. He had to help her off the floor. I heard her tell him she was home from work early because her ribs were hurting so bad she couldn’t carry the trays, and so the manager made her leave. He charged her for some glasses she broke, and said she better get back in shape soon. He’d hired her to be a dancer, and then she got herself beat up by her old man. If she didn’t get better soon, and get back on the pole—whatever that meant—she’d lose her job.

  Rusty told her not to worry. “It’ll be all right,” he said, then helped her to bed.

  I closed my eyes not feeling quite so bad about Kiki being in my room. The bed was like the three dollars in the checkout lady’s pocket. I needed three dollars, and the lady had it, so she passed it on. Kiki needed a bed for her and Opal, and I had a bed. It didn’t hurt me to sleep on the sofa a while.

  I fell asleep and dreamed about a big circle. All kinds of people were walking in it. Every once in a while, you reached across to a person on the other side, so you could give something from your hand to theirs, and then your hand was open and you didn’t have to carry extra. After a while, someone reached across to give you something you needed. There was never any telling who it was going to be or what, and you couldn’t see the circle, but you could feel it, if you let yourself.

  In the morning, when Opal put on her new pink shoes, and I poured the cereal, I thought about the checkout lady again. Sitting down at the table, it seemed like we should say grace. I had to show Opal how to do her hands and tell her to close her eyes, just like Mama showed me when I was little. After that, we did all right. I said grace real quick, because I wasn’t sure how long Opal’d hold out, and besides, when you mix water in the milk to
make it go further, your cereal gets soggy fast. “God bless these gifts that we’re about to receive,” I said, just the way we used to at home. “And bless Mama and Rusty and me, and Opal, and Kiki, MJ down at the bookstore, and the lady at Wal-Mart.” I thought for a minute, then added, “And the lady with the sandwiches yesterday. Thanks. Amen and let’s eat.” Mama always added that to let us know grace was over. Opal wasn’t used to it, so she waited until I picked up my spoon to pick up hers.

  Opal liked the cereal a lot. She ate every last drop, and then she wanted more. I told her no. I’d measured it out. If I didn’t pour the bowls too full, and Rusty could keep from going wild with his breakfast, we’d have enough for three more mornings. By the time it was gone, maybe Kiki would be able to bring a little money home.

  Someone was playing mariachi music in the parking lot across the street. “Hear the music?” I said, so Opal would quit whining about the cereal. “Listen.” I put a hand to my ear, and she did the same. She got out of her chair and started doing the hippy shake.

  Opal danced around while I went in the bedroom and found her a pink T-shirt and some pants that were maybe pajama bottoms, but I couldn’t tell. Anyway, they looked pretty good with the T-shirt, and once Opal got her new pink shoes on, I turned her loose, and she boogied all over the living room. She’d hippy shake a while, then spin round and round with her arms in the air like a little bird. She wanted me to dance with her, and I thought, why not? I held Opal’s hands and we twirled together until we were so dizzy, we fell down. It made me think of Ring around the Rosie at school. It’d been a long time since I’d played that game, but I guess you never really outgrow Ring around the Rosie.

  Things felt pretty good until the lady next door started hollering about something and the baby got to crying. Opal didn’t seem to notice. She just kept on dancing until the music finally quit, and we sat down to read her book. After a while there was a strange sound out front. It wasn’t knocking, really. It was more like the wind rattling the door a little, trying to push it open.

  “Who-da?” Opal took her finger off the picture of Billy and Blaze, and pointed to the door.

  “Just the wind,” I told her. “Or maybe the trucks going by.” We’d studied sound waves in science last year—how they could travel through air and collide with solid stuff and bounce off it, like ocean water hitting rocks and going back out to sea. The whole world was one great big ocean of sound.

  The door rattled again, and I knew it wasn’t the trucks or the wind. Someone was messing around out there, trying to get in. The knob jiggled, and goose bumps crawled all over my skin.

  “Stay here, Opal.” I slid out from under her and tried to decide what to do next. For the first time ever, I was glad Kiki was there. If someone drove a freight train through the room, she probably wouldn’t hear it, but I was still glad someone was home besides me.

  I thought about the gangbanger wannabes and wondered if it was them outside. Maybe they were messing with me.

  Maybe someone was trying to break in… .

  Why would anybody bother?

  I stood there like one of those goofy people in a horror movie who waits for the axe murderer to jump around the corner. Do something, Cass, a voice said in my head, but I couldn’t decide what. Holler at them to go away? Go try to wake up Kiki? Get in the bathroom with Opal and lock the door? What?

  Finally, I slipped over to the window, leaned around the edge of the blind, and looked out with just one eye. Through the gap and the dirt on the glass, I could see the top half of the door. There was no one there.

  “Must be the wind. Maybe Rusty didn’t get the door shut good.” The words came out with a big breath I’d been holding. I went over and turned the locks, then pulled the door open to look out. Something moved near my feet, and I squealed and jumped back, then fell over one of the kitchen chairs. When I finally got untangled, the kid from next door, the littlest one, was climbing onto the sofa next to Opal.

  “Hey … hey … no!” I hollered. “Get off the … get away from there. Hey! You can’t come …” The next thing I knew the two bigger kids were inside the door, and the littlest one was settling in to look at Opal’s book.

  “See hawsie?” Opal asked, and pointed to the horse in the book. It seemed like Opal was talking more every day—almost like she’d been afraid to when she first came.

  “Ooohhh,” the boy whispered. “Ho-see!”

  “Es Bw-ades,” Opal told him, tapping her finger on the picture of Blaze. “Bw-ades howsie.” She started pointing to the words and babbling along like she was reading. Every once in a while, I could recognize something she was saying. She had the story all messed up, but she’d been listening. When she turned to a page with another horse on it, she called him “Eee-bit-cut,” from the Seabiscuit book we read before we got the new ones.

  The other kids wormed past me and walked into the room like they belonged there. “C’mon in.” I flipped the door shut behind them. “You’re already here anyway.”

  The bigger boy and his sister with the smart mouth went over and hung around the sofa, watching Opal turn the pages of the book and talk about them. Even though it was rude the way they came in without being invited, and they smelled like cigarette smoke, I was proud of Opal. I’d sort of taught her to read, which was cool.

  It was cool right up until Opal finished her book for the second time, and those kids got bored and the middle one—I’d figured out his name was Ronnie from listening to his sister saying Sit still, Ronnie—saw the cereal bag on the table.

  “I-unt-some.” Ronnie had a weird way of talking that made him sound like he had a wad of gum in his mouth. His teeth stuck out in front so that his lips didn’t close all the way, which might of been why.

  The littler one caught sight of the cereal then, and he was off the sofa lickety-split. He scaled a chair, knocked it over, and was hanging off the table when I caught up to him and grabbed a big wad of his T-shirt. “No!” I hollered.

  “Let go my li’l brother!” the girl—Angel, I’d figured out her name was—said, but she didn’t get off the sofa, because Opal was about to give her a turn with the book.

  “Tell him to leave the food alone then.” I didn’t like that girl. She was only a punky second or third grader, but she acted like the queen of the world.

  “He’s just hon-gry. He didn’t have no breakfast,” she said, then she flipped a hand at him. “Ged down, Boo.”

  Boo didn’t listen very well. He kept trying to squiggle onto the table and get the cereal.

  “I’m hon-gree,” Ronnie said, and instead of looking at the book, he sat there staring at me. He had big brown eyes with long, long lashes, and round chubby cheeks that would have been cute on a teddy bear—without the stick-out teeth, anyway.

  Of all things, I thought of the lady with the three dollars in Wal-Mart, and the big circle in my dream, and the Jesus hands and the dots of strawberry-colored blood. Down there at Jesus’s feet, at the bottom of the next window over, there were all these kids—little kids and big kids, black kids and white kids, Mexican kids and Chinese kids, standing in a circle like the people in my dream.

  “Oh, flip,” I said, and thought, Cass Sally Blue, you have lost your mind. Yesterday it was the free sandwiches, and now they want the cereal that was supposed to last three more days. Next thing, they’ll be drivin’ off in Rusty’s truck. I lifted Boo off the table and set him down, then grabbed the bag. “Easy come, easy go,” I said. The cereal was free, after all.

  I unfolded three napkins and laid them out, then put two big handfuls of cereal on each one. By the time I finished, all three kids were standing at the table, watching. After I’d folded up the napkins, I handed one to each of them. “Here,” I said, “but you guys better go, okay? Your mom might wonder where you’re at.” Not likely, but I figured if they stayed any longer, all the cereal would be gone.

  Even though it was hard to see those handfuls of cereal going out the door with them, I felt good—like I
did last night in my dream, when all the people were walking in the same circle, reaching across to each other. Ronnie and Boo looked happy, and the girl, Angel, kind of almost smiled.

  Once they got down the steps, they took off. I think they headed around back somewhere to eat, because I didn’t hear them outside. Later on, me and Opal went out and sat on the steps. The kids from next door came back, and they had a little Mexican girl with them. They wanted sandwiches, and I told them I didn’t have any—that a lady in a car brought them yesterday. They hung around anyway, and we all sat there together looking out at the road and hoping the sandwich lady would come back today.

  Chapter 11

  SandraKaye

  In the morning when I woke up, I heard Christopher down the hall as I rolled over and looked at the clock. After nine thirty? He was an hour late for school.

  I’d gotten up and started toward Chris’s room before I remembered the accident and its aftermath. Rob had chosen to sleep on the sofa downstairs again, and I hadn’t argued. No doubt, he was already gone this morning—up and quietly out of the house, no time for the cup of coffee we used to share before the boys awakened. Lately, it seemed so much easier this way.

  The door was ajar, and Chris was just pulling a shirt over the slim, straight waist that had led more than once to embarrassing low-rider moments with soccer and basketball shorts. Jake had some shape, but with Chris, clothes hung like samples on a wire rack. He was all bones and sinew, like a marionette slowly metamorphosing into a new creation. Still growing. Still becoming real.

  “Hey,” he said when he saw me there. “I’ve gotta get to school. Finals review today. Can you drive me?” The last sentence was clearly painful. It’s never fun to be driven to school by your mom, at sixteen.

  “Sure. Let me slip on some clothes. Why didn’t you wake me earlier? You’re late.”

  Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he crossed the room, then looked in the mirror, checked his hair, and brushed it down to hide the cut on his forehead. “Forgot to set the alarm. I fell asleep studying last night.” He stopped the sentence short. I had a feeling he’d been about to say something else, but Chris was so much like me, an emotional cotton ball. His response to conflict was to take it in, pad it as much as possible, wrap it up, silence it, and quietly tuck it away. “Is Dad here?”