Disappearing Acts

by Terry McMillan

  “Consider me there,” I said.

  Three months was better than nothing, and I wasn’t surprised when it was the same site I had worked at before. Mel was surprised as hell to see me, and both of us pretended like I never left. I couldn’t wait to get to the hospital to tell Zora. This would make her day.

  I was doing drywalls, thank God, which meant I was inside. I could do this shit with my eyes closed.

  * * *

  Zora was feeding Jeremiah when I got there.

  “Hi,” I said. She looked so pretty, and I’d even go so far as to say younger. She was glowing, maybe ’cause she was happy.

  “Hi,” she said back, grinning.

  “How you and my man doing?”

  “Oh, just fine. He’s a greedy little varmint, I can say that much. Every two hours, here he goes. He’s sleeping in here with me, did I tell you?”

  “Where else is he supposed to sleep?”

  “In the nursery, but I wanted him here. Might as well get used to it.”

  “How come he’s so pale?”

  “I don’t know. Look at him. He’s not all that pale.”

  I looked at him, and sure enough the boy was at least two shades darker than he was yesterday. How do that shit work? I wondered. Now we getting somewhere. “I was beginning to have my doubts, baby. He still got about five more shades to go before I believe he’s mine.” I started laughing. “Just kidding.”

  “You want to hold him?”

  “Not really. He’s too little. What if I hurt him or something?”

  “Franklin, you won’t hurt him. Here.”

  She handed him to me, and he didn’t weigh nothing. It had been a long time since I held a baby, especially one that was mine. I looked down at him. This was my son, all right. “Look at that nose. That’s my nose, ain’t it?”

  “If God is on his side, it won’t be.”

  “Go to hell, Zora.”

  We both started laughing.

  “Guess what?”

  “You cleaned the house.”

  “Better than that. Yeah, I cleaned the house, but I got a job.”

  “Doing construction or something different?”

  Now I felt kinda disappointed, ’cause I forgot I had told her I was gon’ look for something outside of construction, but fuck it. I needed a job now, and I got one. Don’t nothing pay like construction, that’s for damn sure. “Sheetrock, and union scale, and it’ll be good through the end of March. By then, I’ma thinka something with some permanence to it. I got another mouth to feed now, if you get my drift.”

  “I get your drift. How do you feel about this?”

  “So-so. It’s a job. It’s work. It’s a paycheck.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it, Franklin. I won’t go back to work until the first of April, and you know we’re going to have to find a baby-sitter.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “Have you heard any more about your sister?”

  “Just that she’s out to my folks’ house. I ain’t called out there yet. I don’t feel like it. I will, in due time.”

  “Franklin, thank you for giving me a beautiful baby.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said and handed Jeremiah back to me. Then he stood up. “Now hurry up and get your ass home, ’cause if I remember correctly, it was your turn, and I still got the letters on the table.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am. Look, I just came to see the little munchkin and make sure you was still glad to be a mama and everything. I gotta be at work at seven, and I gotta wash my work clothes. I miss you, Zora. It’s too quiet around there when you gone.”

  “I miss you too, Franklin. But when we both get home, you’ll probably be eating those words.”

  * * *

  She had that shit right. That bassinet didn’t stay in Jeremiah’s room more than two hours. Zora couldn’t stand not seeing him. “What if he suffocates, and I’m not there?” Shit, it’s a whole lotta babies sleep in their own room and don’t die, but I didn’t say nothing. So in he came, right next to our bed. Every time he cried, she jumped. Which was about every two hours. And every time I rolled over, her titty was out and stuck in his mouth.

  The phone jumped off the hook. People I ain’t never heard of was calling. And one by one, every last one of her girlfriends showed up. It was like they was rotating. Every time I’d come home from work, seem like a different one, or the same one that was here just the week before was back. It got to the point where I was sick of seeing all of ’em. Couldn’t walk around in your own house butt naked after you took a shower. I wanted to take Jeremiah upstairs with me, but shit, couldn’t do that either, ’cause all they came for was to drool over him and ask Zora questions.

  Seem like a package came once a week too. From people from her church in Ohio that she couldn’t even hardly remember. And her stepmother, Marguerite, she was pitiful. For the first month she sent boxes full of all kinda shit. I know I shouldn’t be complaining, but I can’t lie: I wasn’t the star in this house no more. All the lights was shining on Jeremiah.

  * * *

  One thing I can say—and I don’t know how this shit works, but right after Zora came home from the hospital, she had already dropped almost twenty pounds, and Jeremiah didn’t weigh but seven pounds nine ounces. And over the next month and a half, she had dropped almost fifteen more. She said breast feeding helped. And the other thing was that that Nivea shit musta worked, ’cause she didn’t have no more stretch marks than she had before she got pregnant. At least not on her stomach. I ain’t never seen no shit like this, never.

  By March, Jeremiah was a pretty brown. A little darker than Zora but not as dark as me. That was good enough for me. And he looked old enough to vote. Like a little man. I’m grateful that he wasn’t no screamer either. As a matter of fact, he sleeps all night now, but Zora said she ain’t putting his bassinet in his room until she’s sure he’s safe. Which is when? But I ain’t saying nothing.

  When the boy wakes up, he don’t cry. Sometimes I walk over there and he’s kicking his little legs up, and he’s grinning and shit. The boy’s well hung, which means he takes after his Daddy. This morning, I saw the bassinet kinda rocking back and forth, and Zora was out like a light, so I got up and picked him up and put him on my lap. I checked his Pamper, and as usual, he was wet. I ain’t never changed no baby before, but I figured it would be stupid to wake her up to do some shit like this. I got it off of him, but he wouldn’t stay still long enough for me to maneuver the damn thing to get it on him, so I just looked at him. “How about some fresh air on that little dick?” The boy just drooled, so I sat up against the wall and held him up on my lap. Check this out. The little chump kept trying to stand. No shit. He couldn’t even hardly hold his damn head up, and he was grunting and shit, trying to stand. Squeezed my hands hard too. What a grip this kid’s got. This kid gon’ be in the Olympics, I’ll put money on it.

  I spoke too soon. ’cause the next thing I knew, he stopped moving and looked dead at me. I thought he was getting ready to smile—something I been waiting on—but that ain’t what he had in mind. I started smiling at him, talking baby talk and shit, and the next thing I knew, his little dick perked up and he was pissing in my lap. “Zora! Get this boy,” I yelled. “You little chump,” I said, laughing. And then he started his little jumping routine again.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, rolling over.

  “Here, take this little pissy thing.”

  “Where’s his Pamper?”

  “I couldn’t get it on. Here.”

  I handed my son to her and went to clean myself up. When I came back, he was up under her, just sucking away. I can’t lie: I wished it was me.

  * * *

  When I got home from work today, wasn’t nobody here but Zora and Jeremiah.

  “Franklin, you’ve got to see this. Watch.”

  “Wait a minute. I ain’t even in the door yet.”

  “You’ve got to see it now, because
he might not do it again.”

  I stood there and waited. She did some cooing and shit, but I didn’t notice nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Did you see that?”

  “See what?”

  “Him smiling.”

  “Yeah,” I said, lying. “That’s nice. What’s for dinner?”

  “Spaghetti and meatballs.”

  “Again?”

  “I was tired, and besides, I made enough for two days.”

  “You been home all day; you coulda cooked.”

  “You don’t know what I do around here all day. Taking care of a baby isn’t the same as just being home all day. Guess what?”

  “Surprise me.”

  “Daddy wants me and Jeremiah to come to Ohio for a week, and he’s already paid for the ticket. We’re leaving day after tomorrow.”

  “You didn’t ask me if you could go.”

  “What do you mean, ‘ask you’? Since when did I have to get your permission to go somewhere?”

  “What am I supposed to do while y’all gone for a whole week?”

  “Franklin, please. You knew I was going home before I went back to work, so don’t act so surprised.”

  “Have a good time, then. I gotta take a shower. Wait a minute. Let me ask you something. You gon’ give me some pussy before you go, I hope.”

  “I’ll put it on my calendar, Franklin. Okay?”

  “When you gon’ start giving that boy a bottle?”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause every time I look around, you feeding him. How much he weigh now?”

  “Ten pounds thirteen ounces. To tell you the truth, I bought him some formula today. I’m too tired all the time, so I’m going to supplement him with two bottles a day until I wean him.”

  “Good.”

  I went upstairs and got the water as hot as I could stand it. A whole damn week. What am I supposed to do without her?

  When we got in the bed, I asked if we could put Jeremiah in his room, just for a little while. She hesitated but gave in. I swear, you almost don’t know how to act when you ain’t fucked your woman in damn near three months. I didn’t know if Tarzan could still hang, but he surprised me. Then Zora fucked it up.

  “Franklin, I can’t breathe. You’re putting all your weight on me. Could you just lift up some?”

  “What you trying to say, baby?”

  “I’m just asking you to lift up some. You’ve gained a few pounds yourself, you know, and I can’t breathe.”

  Then Jeremiah started crying, and she just looked at me, like “I gotta go.” When I rolled over, so did my dick.

  * * *

  Zora seemed too happy to be leaving. And she looked awful damn good too. Too good, if you ask me. I don’t think she need to lose no more weight. She look fine just the way she is. But of course she thinks she’s on a roll, and had the nerve to tell me that when she get back, she joining a health club, a new one that ain’t far from the house. I wanna know where she got the money, but I ain’t got the nerve to ask her. Since it is a new club and everything, they got this discount membership. I even checked it out, and I wouldn’t mind joining it, but since I told her I didn’t want her to join my club, I can’t turn around and join hers, or can I? Maybe she got something up her sleeve. Maybe she saw something in that club she like besides Nautilus equipment and the damn sauna. Naw, don’t start, Franklin. Don’t start it, man.

  For the whole week, she didn’t even call. I wondered what she was doing, since she obviously had a built-in baby-sitter. Didn’t she miss me? Hell, no; she got Jeremiah. All she do is live for that baby. I was tempted to go out and get me some pussy, just for spite, but by the time I got home from work, I was too beat to think about going to the bar. So what I did for seven days was ate tuna fish out the can, polished off the rest of that spaghetti, which tasted better than I remembered, and snacked on sardines and crackers and boiled rice. I went through two fifths of Jack Daniel’s, and when I took a shower last night, I was embarrassed. My ass was bigger than Zora’s. I got on the scale. Goddamn. When did I gain twenty-six fuckin’ pounds? Shit. No wonder Zora didn’t want my ass on top of her, but all I been wearing is work clothes and sweats; I didn’t realize I had got this damn big. All this damn alcohol, and doing Sheetrock ain’t getting it. And my fuckin’ waistline is disappearing too. No wonder the women ain’t staring me down these days. I used to damn near stop traffic, get double takes and shit. But them days ain’t over. I’ll be damned if I’ll turn into flab when my woman’s done had a baby and is starting to shine all over again. No way.

  The day before they was coming home, she called.

  “I miss you, baby,” I said.

  “I miss you too, Franklin. Has anyone called me?”

  “Like who?”

  “Like a woman named JayJay?”

  “Naw. Who’s that?”

  “I’ll tell you when I get home. Love you, and see you tomorrow.”

  I made sure the pad was spotless, so she wouldn’t have nothing to complain about. I couldn’t concentrate on my work for thinking about her. And right after lunch, I made a big mistake. Somebody was passing a bottle, and I started sipping. Then I took a break and went across the street and bought my own. By two o’clock, I was damn near seeing double. And when a slab of Sheetrock slipped out my hands and I fell back and it landed on my goddamn knee, it was all over. I couldn’t walk.

  I don’t remember who took me to the emergency room, and I don’t remember how I got home. All I know is that when I woke up, I was in my own bed, had a cast on my leg, and Zora was standing over me.

  “Franklin! What happened to you?” she asked. She laid Jeremiah down. For me. She put him down for me.

  “I got hurt on the job, baby, and I missed you. I missed you so bad,” I said.

  She walked around to my side of the bed and put her arms around me. Then she kissed me everywhere she could on my face. “Are you really okay, Franklin, for real?”

  “I don’t know, baby, I don’t know.”

  “Can I get you anything? Does it hurt anywhere? Are you in pain?”

  “Just right there,” I said, pointing. “It hurts there.”

  “Would you like a pillow under it?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “A pillow would be fine.”

  “Are you hungry? Did they give you something for the pain?”

  “Yeah, I took it already. But come here. Lay down here next to me and keep me warm.”

  She put Jeremiah in his bassinet and came over and laid down next to me. She put her arms around me again, and I put my head between her breasts. I exhaled and dug my head in deeper.

  “You been gone too long,” I said.

  “Well, I’m back,” she said. “I’m back.”

  27

  A baby can change your whole life.

  Next to Franklin and my Daddy, I don’t think I’ve ever loved any one person this much.

  And I don’t know where I’ve gotten all this energy. It’s as if I’m on cruise control. While Franklin’s at work, I put Jeremiah in his stroller, bundle him up real good in his snowsuit Portia bought him, and we take long walks. I want to say to everyone I pass, “Isn’t he beautiful?” But I don’t. The only thing that brings me down is this neighborhood. There’s trash on the street, on the sidewalk, and I have to roll over it. I am certain of one thing: I’m not raising Jeremiah in New York. That much I do know. This is no place to grow up, I don’t care what Franklin says. A child should be able to go out in the backyard and play, or the front yard, for that matter. No one in Brooklyn has a front yard. I’ve already made a vow to him: By the time he’s three years old, we’re out of here. With or without his Daddy. Record contract or no record contract. Don’t ask me where I’d like to go. I haven’t taken this dream that far yet.

  And am I dropping pounds by the day? Yes, yes, yes. I never did tell Franklin that Marie paid me back my eight hundred dollars; something told me to keep my mouth shut about it. So I took $163 of it and joined this new healt
h club right around the corner. Once I start work, on the way home this’ll be my first stop. I have no intention of staying fat. None whatsoever.

  Today, though, I had to interview a baby-sitter. I’d already waited to the last minute. This morning, Jeremiah and I had walked over to the city’s day-care center, but they didn’t have any openings for his age group. A nice black woman, who ran the program, was very helpful. “When you got to go back to work, baby?” she asked me.

  “In two weeks,” I said.

  “Lord, don’t you hate the thought?”

  But before I could answer, she just kept on talking. She had to be around forty, but well preserved, and as petite as she could be, with the exception of that behind of hers. Her name was Betty.

  “You know what? My cousin Mary baby-sits, and she’s good with chil’ren. Got five daughters, honey.” She looked down at my application. “And she live right around the corner from you. She live the same as what I do. In the Gowanus projects. You want her number?”

  She wrote it down on a piece of paper, and as soon as I got home, I phoned. Mary sounded very nice and said she could come right over to meet us. She was there in less than twenty minutes. She was quite attractive, taller than I was, about five foot nine, and a little heavyset; she had long, crinkly hair. The first thing she did was pick up Jeremiah and smile at him. He smiled back at her. “What a handsome little guy. How old you say he is?”

  “Three and a half months.”

  “My goodness. He’s a little bruiser, ain’t he? Is he on formula?”

  “Yes.”

  “Baby food?”

  “Cereal and fruit.”

  “That’s good.” She sat down on the couch and looked around. “You sure got a nice place here.”

  “Thank you.” Jeremiah was jumping on her lap, and she was holding him right. I felt good about her. Very good. “So do you charge very much?”

  “Whatever you can afford is fine. I just had a little boy what leave me after four years. Broke my heart, and all my girls is in school, and I could use some company. Whatever you wanna pay me is fine.”

  I couldn’t believe this. Betty had told me fifty dollars a week would be plenty. When I offered it to Mary, she said that was just fine.