Revenge of a Not-So-Pretty Girl

by Carolita Blythe

  Gosh, I just want everyone to go away: Ms. Viola, her horsey son, that little creak monster. If they knew what made me late, maybe they’d all shut up. But I’m not about to tell them. Let them continue to think I’m a sneaky, rotten delinquent.

  An hour and a half of me fending off Gerald passes before the doorbell sounds. I’m pretty sure it’s Mama, who’s decided to make a special trip to collect me. Probably couldn’t wait for me to get upstairs to knock me upside the head. I take a few breaths and prepare for my fate. I’m not about to tell her the real reason I was late, so I’m pretty sure I’m in for more than a few rounds of torture.

  I hear Ms. Viola walk to the door, but when she opens it, it’s not Mama’s voice that greets her.

  “Hey, how you doing? I’m picking Faye up for Jeanne,” I hear Jerry say as I start walking.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on with her,” Ms. Viola says. “You know, maybe you all can talk to her. If anything happens, I don’t want Jeanne holding me responsible. Because these young teenagers these days, I just don’t know.”

  I want to yell out that if something happened to me, Mama would probably get down on her knees and thank the good Lord in heaven.

  As Jerry and I walk down the hall, I wait for him to say something. You know, like “Faye, your mother sets up these boundaries for a reason,” or “Seven o’clock? What could you possibly have been doing out until then, when you were supposed to be in by five-thirty?” But he doesn’t say any of that. He doesn’t say anything at all until we reach the stairs that will take us the one flight up to our floor.

  “Faye, sit here with me for a second,” he says as he settles onto one of the steps.

  “You’re about to nag me about being late to the sitter, aren’t you?” I ask with an “I don’t care either way” attitude.

  “Seeing that you’re home and okay’s all I really care about. Besides, it must be tough being a teenager and having to go to a babysitter. You’re ten times better than me. I’d be late every night. Still, you should call, just so everybody doesn’t worry. Anyway, in answer to your question, no, I’m not gonna be nagging you. What I did want to talk to you about, though, is that your mama had a little accident.”

  Now, I know I should be scared or concerned or something, but the only emotion I feel from Jerry’s news is hope—hope that Mama might be laid up in the hospital and unable to manhandle me for being so late.

  “She took a tumble while she was running up the stairs to transfer trains at Atlantic Avenue,” he says. “Banged her knee pretty good. But don’t you worry, Faye. She’s all right. Just a few aches and pains and a little swelling. I went and picked her up and we popped into Kings County, where the doctors checked her out. She didn’t want to, of course, but I insisted. Even after all her fussing, I’m sure she’s happy I did. Anyway, that’s why we’re a little late getting you.”

  “Oh” is all I manage to say.

  “And, uh, Faye. Couple more things. You sure you don’t want to sit down next to me?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you. I’m okay where I am.” Although, standing over him does force me to look down at the oil slick he calls a hairstyle.

  “You know I care about your mom, right?”

  “Uh-huh,” I say.

  “I know she’s a little rough around the edges, but I really believe she’s a good woman. And, well, I’m tired of being all by my lonesome. Tired of coming home to no one there. And after this incident tonight, I think she’s seeing that it’s better for a woman to have a man around. Especially a woman who has a kid to support.” He stops for a moment.

  “What are you trying to say, Jerry?” Now, I’m not trying to hurry things along so I can be confronted by Mama, but I’m all too aware that this little talk is turning into an episode of As the World Turns.

  “What I’m trying to say, Faye, is … Well, I’m gonna be moving in with you and your mama.”

  “You’re gonna be marrying her?” I ask.

  “Well, for her, this’ll be a pretty big move, so we’ll go one step at a time. But between you and me, I’d love to marry her, so I’m looking at this as a stepping-stone. And she’s told me she’s finally signed those papers from your father, so I think it’s only a matter of time.”

  “You’re already certain you want to marry her when you all just met at Easter? It’s only been like a month and a half.”

  “Guess this is one of those things you just can’t put a time frame on.”

  I honestly don’t get it. I’m sure that if Mama wasn’t as pretty as she is, Jerry would never have stuck around as long as he has. Once again, pretty trumps mean.

  “Look, Faye. I understand your concern. I know it’s been just you two ladies for a while now. I want to make sure you don’t feel like I’m taking over your territory.”

  Taking over my territory? I want to tell Jerry how fine I am with this turn of events. I want to tell him that never has a head full of drippy curls ever looked so good to me. With a third person in the apartment on a full-time basis, a lot of pressure will be taken off my shoulders. For a split second I consider hugging him, but, well, I suppose hugs just don’t come that easily for me.

  “Well, you’re there a few nights a week now,” I say. “Guess this just makes it more official. Maybe now Mama will be happy. Congratulations, Jerry.”

  “Thanks, kid. That means a lot to me.” Then he reaches into the inside pocket of his jean jacket and hands me an envelope.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “Don’t know. But it came for you.”

  No one ever sends me letters. I look at the front of the envelope and see that there’s no name where the return address is, only a street number in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and a zip code.

  “Where’d you get it from?”

  “Your mama didn’t want to have to climb the stairs to the mailboxes, so she asked me to get the mail for her. I figure it’s from your daddy. I know he’s living down in Florida now. And since it’s addressed to you, I also figured it’s for your eyes only. Besides, I’ve seen how worked up your mama gets anytime his name is mentioned.”

  I get ready to rip the thing open, but Jerry stops me.

  “She’s gonna be wondering if I got lost coming to get ya. Why don’t you read it when you’re back in your room?”

  I put the letter in my knapsack.

  “I don’t know what’s in there,” Jerry says. “But maybe it’s best if you don’t tell your mom about that letter. She’s already blowing hot air about you coming up missing. This might be a double whammy for her tonight.”

  When we get up to the apartment, Jerry pushes the door open and yells to Mama. “Here she is, Jeanne. She’s all good and in one piece. Anyway, I gotta shove off for a bit and finish up at the shop. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Then he turns to me, winks, and smiles. Only, I wish he wasn’t leaving, because now I feel like I’m heading into a raging storm without any kind of protection.

  As I take those thirteen steps down our apartment’s narrow hallway, I just keep reminding myself to breathe. I know Mama’s in an extra-special mood, especially since she had to waste time, and money, probably, at the hospital. When I get to the kitchen, I see her seated there with her left pant leg hiked up above her knee, which has an ice pack on it.

  “Hello, Mama,” I say quietly.

  “Well, hello, Ms. Andrews. Mmm-hmm. I’m calling you Ms. Andrews because obviously you think you’re grown. You think we’re on the same level. That you don’t have to follow any rules, and that you can come and go whenever you please.” She gets really quiet, which is never a good sign. And then she stands slowly and starts hobbling toward me.

  I’m not so broken up about having to go straight to bed. Locked away in my room, I can be alone and at peace. I clutch Daddy’s letter, waiting for Mama to go to bed before I turn on a flashlight and begin reading it. There’s a police siren wailing somewhere out there in the night. First it sounds really faint and far away, but then it get
s louder and louder, like the car’s become airborne and will soon be driving through my window and crushing me in my bed. But just as the sound reaches a crescendo, it begins to trail off. The people who live in the upstairs apartment are moving some furniture around, and squeaky, scraping sounds filter down from the ceiling. Then it stops and all is quiet.

  I stare at the clock as the numbers tick on by. I hear the buzz of Jerry’s robust voice when he returns. Soon, the shuffling around and muffled conversations taking place outside my door are silenced. And I hear Mama’s door slam shut.

  I grab the flashlight from my nightstand and get ready to open the letter. But then the phone rings. A few seconds later, I hear Mama’s voice coming from the kitchen. She’s obviously trying to be quiet as she speaks in whispers. She says something, then there’s a long pause, then she says something again. I figure she decided not to take the call in the bedroom because she didn’t want to wake Jerry, so I go back to my own thoughts. But then her voice suddenly begins to come in loud bursts. I get out of bed and walk over to my door, careful to open it slowly so it doesn’t squeak and alert her to my presence. And that’s where I stand listening.

  “She’s acting the fool,” I hear her say. “Not coming home when she’s supposed to, not having answers for where she’s been.” Long pause.

  “What I’m saying is, your daughter needs a father figure around.…” Suddenly, I notice Jerry inching over to the doorway of the kitchen. Only, he doesn’t go in. He just stands off to the side listening, like I’m doing from my own doorway.

  “You didn’t think of that when you decided to go chase your latest piece of tail, did you? Well, you need to start thinking of what your not being around is doing to her.” There’s a long pause. When Mama speaks again, she lowers her voice so much I have to wedge my ear right into the crack of my door to hear anything at all.

  “Damn it, Charlie, it’s time to stop playing around. I got me somebody in my life now … and pretty soon … Well, by the time you come to your senses, it might be too late. I’m not gonna be available forever. In fact, I might not be available for very much longer, so this could be your last chance to step up to the plate.”

  I see Jerry’s face as he turns to go back into the bedroom. It’s so sad and defeated. And his eyes are red-rimmed and shiny. I feel really bad for the guy. He’s most definitely loud and annoying, but he’s been good to Mama … and to me.

  I close my door, get back into bed, and pick up Daddy’s letter. It’s thicker than an envelope usually is when it just has a sheet of paper in it. When I open it, the first thing I see is the Kodak stamp that’s always on the back of photographs. There are three pictures in there. The first one is of Daddy standing on the beach. The next is of this tiny little otherworldly baby with a big old cranium and not a tooth in its head. It’s really light, almost pee-yellow in color. And its weird little arms are all spastic-looking, even in the picture. And I notice that it’s so fat it doesn’t really have wrists—just hands that are jammed into arms. The last picture is of this short lady holding on to the alien baby and Daddy holding on to her. And then I open the letter up and start reading.

  Dear Baby Girl,

  Now I have a little baby boy too. Just came into this world. Isn’t he wonderful? Your little brother is named George, after your granddad. I know I didn’t mention this part to you before, but I thought it would be too much to drop all at once—me moving away, getting married, and a baby too. But he reminds me a little of you when you were first born. Just the biggest smile and all the light of the world in those eyes. I wish you could be here to see him and hold him like I can. I think you’d be in love. But I don’t want you to worry. I want you to know that you haven’t been replaced in my heart. I’ve had fourteen years to know you, while I’m just discovering this funny-looking little fellow. I know I haven’t been the best dad, that I’ve been gone more than I’ve been around, but it’s mainly because I was always trying to find a better life for myself so I could give you a better life. Things haven’t exactly gone as planned, but I feel good about the future. I’m still working on getting you down here for the summer. If all goes well, before you know it you’ll be meeting your baby brother and hanging out with your old man again.

  Love, Daddy

  I have to lean on my forearms and lie on my stomach, on account of my back being so sore. I refold the letter, put it back into the envelope along with the pictures, and tuck it under the pillow next to me.

  Daddy is really starting a new life. Now that there’s a baby, there’s no turning back. I’m not sure how to feel about this little brother. I mean, I never wanted to be an only child, but when I thought about having a sibling before, I figured he or she would be living in the same house as me. And I wanted to have one when I was still little so we could grow up together and be close. I wanted to have somebody to giggle and roll my eyes with whenever Mama went on one of her crazy binges. But this is a baby. And I’ve made it quite clear how I feel about babies. The only solution would be if we could maybe stick that kid into a time machine or body-altering contraption and just push a switch and—poof!—have him instantly grow up. Besides, this kid’ll be living in Florida and I’ll be in New York.

  And then something occurs to me. The last time Daddy was away and sent me a letter, I came to find the envelope all torn open and jagged. Mama didn’t even try to play it off by taping it up or pasting it back together.

  “It’s my letter,” I said to her. “It’s addressed to me.”

  “Yeah, but this is my house. The lease is in my name, so the way I see it, whatever goes on under this roof is in my jurisdiction, and I can do whatever I want with it.”

  “Well, what about my privacy?”

  “Go get a job and get your own place. That’s what about your privacy.”

  I’m figuring Mama doesn’t know a thing about this baby, and I don’t want to be the one she finds out from, so I remove the letter and pictures from under the pillow and stuff them into my geography textbook. This letter is going to be living in my locker for the two and a half weeks left until the end of school. After that, I’ll have to figure out somewhere else to hide it. The way I see it, Jerry is right. If Daddy wants Mama to know about this baby, it’s up to him. I’m not going to be the one to light a match to this powder keg.

  After all I’ve been through, there’s no way I’m about to go the whole day without finding out if Ms. Downer’s daughter has gotten in touch with her. So first thing in the morning, I’m standing in front of the old lady’s apartment ringing her bell. I’m so excited I can hardly stand still. I can see her opening her door, eyes filled with tears. I can almost feel her grabbing on to me and hugging me and thanking me for changing her life. And as I hear her footsteps shuffling against the wood floor, followed by the click of the locks, I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. I take a deep breath and brace myself.

  She opens the door and I stare at her expectantly. And I stare at her some more. But I can’t really tell by the look on her face whether something life-changing has happened over the last fourteen hours of her life.

  “Back to truancy?” she finally says.

  “What?”

  “Shouldn’t you be on your way to school?”

  “Oh, that. There’s some teachers’ conference or something this morning, so we don’t have to be there until later.”

  Thieving isn’t coming as easily for me these days, but the lying might have actually improved. I’m not so sure whether that’s good or bad.

  “Why don’t you come in, then,” she says, heading back down the hallway.

  “Okay …” Well, she was an actress, I’m thinking. She’s probably just a wiz at controlling her emotions.

  Twenty minutes into my visit, I’m sipping tea with her and eating shortbread cookies. I’m about to have another tardy on my report card for nothing.

  “So, how was your evening?” I ask.

  “Fine,” she says as she squeezes lemon into her t
ea.

  “What did you do?”

  “Same as usual.”

  “Which is?”

  “Which is read, listen to some music, make a little food. Why are you so curious?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” I shrug. “You didn’t get any phone calls or visitors or anything?”

  She doesn’t answer. She just keeps staring at me.

  “Maybe it’s just too early,” I mumble.

  “Faye, what are you up to?”

  “Nothing. Guess I’ll just see you after school,” I say as I stuff what’s left of my cookie into my mouth and get up from the table.

  What a letdown. I don’t even wait for her to respond before I make my exit.

  But after school, the results are not much different. No phone calls, no visitors. And what’s worse, she doesn’t want to stay inside. Now that the weather has gotten so nice, she feels the need to get as much fresh air as possible. Thing is, I’m afraid if we leave the apartment, Delaine Lawson might stop by or call. And if they miss each other, maybe the daughter will get cold feet and never show up again. But there’s no talking her out of it. So outside of tying her to the radiator, I have no choice.

  We walk across the street to the park and down near the edge of the lake. The good thing is, I can see her building from where we sit on a bench just past the walking and jogging path. I look into the sky as the sun plays hide-and-seek with some puffy white clouds. The moment it peeks out, Ms. Downer closes her eyes and angles her head a little upward.

  “So how long do you plan on staying out here?” I ask.