Better With You Here (9781609417819)

by Zepeda, Gwendolyn

  Because I couldn’t stay. I was real tired all of a sudden. Even though it wasn’t my kids who’d been missing, the whole thing still freaked me out, and I kept thinking about how I’d feel if it was Angelica or Monique or Junior who was gone. Just thinking about it made me feel sick and tired, the whole time. So after all that I just wanted to be at home with them for a while. You know?

  So that’s it. That was how it all went down.

  I know that Mike listened to me, that he quit trying to get the kids from Natasha, because Alex told Angelica that he goes to his dad’s an extra day during the week now, on Wednesday nights. But he said he liked going, and his mom was okay with it, and she didn’t have to go to court. So after that I figured you weren’t involved in her case anymore. And I knew that she liked coming here, and that you were helping her a lot. Because she told Geronima, and Geronima told me. So I figured I’d call you myself. Because, like I said, you already knew half my story, so all I’d have to do is tell you the rest and see what you could do for me.

  Yeah, I think so. I mean, just telling you everything helps. It helps me figure things out.

  Haley? Yeah, I heard from her about a week ago. I didn’t even tell you that part, did I? She ended up leaving her husband after all. She took off to Portland, right after New Year’s.

  Yeah, they’re getting a legal separation, for real now. She has a lawyer handling the whole deal for her.

  Well, that’s the thing. She didn’t take Jared with her. She left him with his dad.

  Yeah. I was pretty surprised, too. Well, no, not really. She left me this long-ass voice mail about it. She said she realized that she got married too young and never had a chance to live her own life and blah, blah, blah. And that she wouldn’t have figured it out without me and Natasha being there and helping her see it. And I was like, oh, great—blame me for you taking off and leaving your kid.

  No. I don’t know. I mean, I feel sad as hell for him. But then again, his dad’s rich. He’ll be all right. Haley said he got a new puppy for Christmas and he didn’t even notice her leave. I think she was trying to play it off—make herself feel better. But I don’t know. Maybe it’s a good thing for her to be by herself for a while. Get all that stuff out of her system, and then maybe she’ll come back.

  Hey, maybe she can come back and start coming to see you. Since you already know half her problems anyway, right?

  Yeah, I’d hang out with her. She’s probably a little different now, after everything. I could probably have a drink with her and listen to her talk about her life and whatever. Because she’d have to tell the truth now, right?

  See, it’s funny that you’re saying that, because that’s what I wanted to talk about this time.

  I mean…how do I say this? That’s what I need, too. Someone to talk to, who I can be real with and who can understand what I’m going through.

  Yeah, good one. You’re funny. No, you’ve never been a stripper. Or if you were, you never told me. Right? Yeah. Ha. No, this is different, because you’re, like, a professional. You have to listen to me, just like I have to listen to the guys at my work and go along with what they’re saying. It’s your job. But I’m talking about someone who hangs out with me because they want to, not because I’m paying them.

  Yeah, right. A friend. That’s what I mean. Stupid, huh? I’m sitting here telling you I want to have friends, and I can’t even think of the word for it.

  Yeah, the girls at work are my friends, kind of. But…shit. I’m just going to come out and say it.

  I miss hanging out with Natasha. You know? She was really cool, and I liked talking to her. She made me feel like…I don’t know. Like I could be a better person, you know? A better mom. Somebody my kids will actually be happy to have for a mom someday.

  What’s that?

  Shit. I don’t know. That’s a good question.

  Shit. That’s a hard question.

  I don’t know. Why would she want to be friends with me at this point? After all the drama she went through, just for knowing somebody like me? You’re right. I’m just some asshole. People like her don’t hang out with people like me.

  What? Oh. I thought you were, like, being sarcastic, saying, “Why would she want to be friends with you?” But you’re asking me seriously, for real.

  Okay, but it’s still a hard question. I don’t know. Man. You’re like the teachers we used to have in school. The ones who wouldn’t believe I was too stupid to do algebra. You’re a tough old lady, you know that?

  Ha. Yeah, you’re right. I’m a tough young lady, too.

  Hey, maybe that’s something, right? I’m tough. Not in the ghetto way, but in the good way. Like, I work hard and survive through stuff. And I stand up for my friends, if they need me to. I have their backs, you know? What’s the word for that—the right word?

  Right. Loyalty. I’m a loyal friend to people when I care about them. That’s all I can think of.

  Hmm? Yeah, I make people laugh. That’s true. Does that count? It does? Okay. I’m a loyal friend, and I have a good sense of humor. I know how to have a good time. What else? Um…I’m a good bartender? Good to have at parties?

  Yeah, I don’t know either.

  Okay. You’re right. I’m going to work on that. Yeah, I’ll make a list and bring it next time. See, you are just like a teacher.

  Seriously, though, Susan. I’m just going to come out and ask you. You still talk to Natasha. I know she comes to see you, because I saw her car here two weeks ago. Can you please just ask her for me?

  You know. Ask her…if she wants to hang out with me again. To be my friend.

  No, I know. But I can’t be tough here. Look, I’m going to admit it: I’m scared.

  No, because I got the new phone, remember? So if she has called, then I don’t know about it.

  Yeah. I still see her around, in the halls. She doesn’t look so stressed out anymore. She looks happier.

  No, she never sees me. I make sure she doesn’t.

  I don’t know. What if I say hi but she just ignores me? Or I try to talk to her but she doesn’t want to talk to me, so she tries to make some excuse, and then it’s just embarrassing and I have to hide from her for real or move someplace else?

  Yeah, I know. That is pretty immature. You’re right.

  Okay. Yeah, you’re right. I just need to do it. I am going to do it. I’ll call her tonight.

  But come on, Susan. Help me out here. You’ve been talking to her. Does she ever say anything about wanting to hang out with me again? Would she even want to? Seriously. She’s who she is, and I’m who I am. Yes, I’m loyal and tough and funny or whatever. But let’s face it. I’m a stripper, and I’m not going to stop being a stripper, because I need the money. Having that money helps me take care of my kids better than I ever did before, and that’s more important than what anybody thinks of me.

  So what do you think? Am I just crazy here? I am a good person, right?

  If you were her, would you be my friend?

  Natasha

  The best perk of becoming a paralegal, besides the money, of course, is moving from that desk in the middle of everything to a desk in the middle of my own cube. Now I can have personal phone conversations without worrying about everyone and his brother listening in.

  Too bad it’s mostly Mike I’m having the personal conversations with. But I simply pretend he’s a client. It’s easier that way.

  “So this month your extra weekend with Alex will fall on Valentine’s Day, and then next month we’ll tack a few days onto the end of spring break,” I tell him.

  “That’s right,” he says.

  “I’m putting that in the e-mail, then. You can just hit Reply to confirm, and then I’ll add it to the calendar.”

  He says okay, and I hit Send on what I’ve already composed. The e-mails and shared calendar were the best idea Susan gave us. They don’t totally save me from hearing Mike’s annoying voice, but they do cut down on the arguing.

  “You know,”
he says, “I’ve had to spend a lot of money on new furniture for the apartment, for the kids. Last week I got them their own TV. It’s a thirty-two-inch, because they said the one you have for them is too small.”

  This is the kind of statement that Mike makes when he wants to feel appreciated. And I don’t have to let it upset me, even if he’s hoping it will. I know that now. So I just say, “I’m sure the kids are enjoying it.” I don’t say that new TVs aren’t my priority right now. I don’t remark that he should have asked Missy for an extra TV when she threw him out. Because that’s none of my business, and I have other things on which to focus. Susan taught me that.

  I can’t help but wonder sometimes if meeting Susan a year ago might have kept us from divorcing in the first place.

  “Natasha? Did you hear me? I said maybe you should quit going on dates with strange men and spend more time teaching the kids to pick up after themselves.”

  But then I realize it would have been even better if I’d met her ten years ago and she’d kept me from marrying Mike in the first place. And then I’d use the time machine and the turkey baster to have Alex and Lucia on my own.

  “I sent the e-mail, Mike. Good-bye.”

  But then I think that instead of wasting time fantasizing about what might have been, I should take what I’ve learned from Susan—about stress relief, about self-acceptance—and apply it to my life going forward. There’s no use wanting to change the past. Besides, Alex does seem to be benefiting from the extra time with his dad, as much as it kills me to admit it. And I’ve been enjoying the extra time with Lucia, teaching her to play volleyball, teaching her to sew Mr. Beary’s arm back in place herself.

  It’s five o’clock. Time to go home before Alex starts calling my cell, wondering what’s taking me so long. Or maybe he’s happy to have the extra hour to play his video games, before we have to pack them for the move.

  “Mommy, can we go swimming tomorrow?” That’s the first thing Lucia says when I come through the door.

  “Remember we talked about this, baby? It’s too cold to swim in February.”

  Undeterred, she follows up with, “Can we go to the new playground, then?”

  I say, “Maybe. If we unpack everything before dark, I guess.”

  Alex looks up from his game and scoffs. “I’m not going to the playground until I unpack all my stuff and get my room set up just the way I like it.”

  I run a hand through his hair on the way to my bedroom. There, I take off my work shoes and put them into the box labeled MOM: CLOSET.

  I look around the room, full of pyramids and towers of similarly labeled boxes. This is my last night in this bedroom. I didn’t think I was going to miss living here, but I’m starting to feel little pangs in my chest. Seeing the apartment so bare reminds me of the day we moved in, and it feels like it was a million years ago.

  The phone rings. It’s Hector. I say, “Hey.”

  He says, “So are we still on for nine A.M. tomorrow?”

  I say, “Yes. Nine A.M. sharp.”

  He says, “You know, Natasha, I’m glad we’re actually dating now, because I really like you. But…”

  “But what?” I can’t believe he’s starting a conversation about our relationship right now.

  He says, “You do like me, too, right? I mean, you aren’t just using me for my truck? And because of my upper-body strength?”

  I say, “I don’t know. Why don’t you buy me dinner after I’m done moving, and then I’ll decide.”

  He laughs. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I left my briefcase in the Blazer. If I don’t get it now, it’ll be lost among all the moving boxes tomorrow and I won’t be able to find it on Monday.

  “You guys, I’ll be right back. I have to run out to the car real fast.”

  They look up from their homework. “Okay,” Lucia says.

  In the parking garage, I watch a silver sedan pull in to a space two rows away. I haven’t seen this car before. Is it a new neighbor or someone just visiting?

  It’s Sara. She got a new car. She climbs out of the driver’s seat, and I wonder if I should turn away—pretend not to see her.

  No. Why should I turn away?

  We’re leaving tomorrow. This is the last time I’ll ever see her.

  Unless…

  She looks up and sees me standing there. I don’t turn away.

  I smile. I wave. I walk in her direction.

  Alex

  My big toe’s been hurting. When I tell Mom, she’ll probably say it’s time for new shoes. This time I’m getting Wolverine. He’s better than Venom. I’ve only read half the comic books that Dad gave me about him, but I already know he’s my new favorite. I’ll tell Dad today, when he picks me up, and we can go to the shoe store. Maybe we can get some cleats for soccer, too, like he’s been saying.

  I’m glad Dad doesn’t live with Missy anymore. Not because I hated her and not because I’m a little baby who thinks Dad and Mom might get married again, like Lucia does. But Shepherd got on my nerves. He cried too much, and we couldn’t get him to do tricks, like Baby Junior does.

  It’s almost time for recess. I can see third grade going past the windows. There’s Angelica. I won’t wave, but I’ll nod my head like this. Okay, she saw me.

  Oh, no. I drank too much juice at lunch.

  “Alex, what are you doing? Sit down.” Ms. Hubacek talks loud. Everybody turns to see me standing by my desk.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I say.

  She says, “No, sir. You need to sit down and wait until recess.”

  But I’m not going to sit down and wait. I can’t. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hubacek. I’ll be right back.”

  When I get to the door, I hear Devonique go, “Ooh!” Some of the other kids laugh, but Ms. Hubacek doesn’t say anything else.

  Walking down the hall by myself makes me feel bigger. I guess it’s because I’ve been growing.

  Author’s Note

  When I write a book, I use music to create and maintain certain moods throughout the story. This story called for a playlist full of minor chords and melodies that alternated between melancholy and optimistic. These are the songs I played over and over while writing this book and that I’ll associate with it from now on.

  First Draft

  Cut Copy: “Future”

  Dabrye: Two/Three Instrumentals

  Digitalism: “Pogo”

  Menomena: “E. is Stable”

  Morrissey: “Suedehead” and “Tomorrow”

  Nick Drake: Pink Moon

  Radiohead: “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi”

  The Presets: “A New Sky”

  The Smiths: “Hand in Glove” and “This Charming Man”

  Tito Puente: “El Cayuco”

  Vampire Weekend: “Cousins”

  Yeah Yeah Yeahs: “Zero” and “Heads Will Roll”

  Revision

  Corinne Bailey Rae: “Trouble Sleeping”

  Fred Everything: “Here I Am (featuring Lisa Shaw)”

  Dwele: “A.N.G.E.L. (Reprise)”

  Kaskade: “Move for Me (Kaskade Vs. Deadmau5)”

  Little Dragon: “Scribbled Paper” and “Constant Surprises”

  Revl9n: “Walking Machine”

  Rod Stewart: “Every Picture Tells a Story”

  Rye Rye: “Hardcore Girls”

  Santana: “Transcendance”

  Spoon: “Don’t You Evah”

  Thieves Like Us: “Desire”

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Jenny Bent, Selina McLemore, Kallie Shimek, and Maureen Sugden for making this book happen.

  Thanks to Ashley MacLean and Little Bit MacLean for providing safe harbor while I wrote the first draft.

  Thanks to Samantha Kelly, Carmen Abrego, Marina Tristan, and Ashley Hess for arranging my career around the writing of this book. Thanks to Inprint, Houston Arts Alliance, and Nuestra Palabra for supporting that career in general.

  Thanks to Brie McCain and Tina Clayton for
being the kind of readers every author wishes for. They show up at all my readings in Houston, they always bring friends, and they show my books to coworkers, relatives, and strangers on the street.

  If it were legal to polygamously marry a team of library staff, I would book a caterer for my marriage to Jennifer Schwartz, Sandra Fernandez, Sarah Borders, and Allen Westrick. We’d do it buffet style, with hot wings, on the fourth floor of the downtown Houston Public Library. Then, after our wedding, I’d cheat on them with all the other librarians who worked with me this year.

  Thanks most of all to Mr. Dat V. Lam for being the best spouse-of-an-author an author could ask for, and for helping maintain a household in which people are allowed/encouraged/obliged to do art.

  Thanks to Jacob, Austin, and Luke for giving my life focus.

  Thanks to Starbuck and Toby for keeping me company, without fail, while I wrote.

  Reading Group Guide

  In the book Natasha talks about feeling alienated from her friends after making the choice to become a young mother and again after making the choice to leave her husband. Is this something that commonly happens to women today? How do pregnancy and divorce affect friendships?

  In the book Sara makes controversial career decisions based on her need for money. Did she make the right decision? She also criticizes Haley for leaving a financially attractive situation. How important is money when it comes to raising children? How much should parents sacrifice in order to secure the optimal amount of money?

  How did you feel about Natasha, Haley, and Sara as the story went on? What were some of the mothers’ strengths and weaknesses as parents? As friends? As women?

  How would a judge, a social worker, or some other court official feel about these women? Would they think that any of them deserve to have their children taken away?