The Edge of Night

by Jill Sorenson

  “Large is fine,” she said, accepting the garment. It wasn’t new, but it looked clean.

  “Bathroom’s there.” He pointed at a door with male and female symbols in a blue circle on the front. “Fill out all that stuff and clock in.”

  She hugged the shirt to her chest, swallowing drily.

  “Cristina will train you.”

  “Great.”

  Eric and his coworker didn’t slow down after Jack exited the storage area. They kept the same steady pace, stocking gallon after gallon. Meghan tried not to stare at them as she filled out the necessary forms, but her interest was piqued.

  Eric was the taller of the two, and he had a strong, lean physique. There was a brown bandanna tied in a cuff around his wrist. An odd fashion accessory, but not unattractive. As he stocked the upper levels of the milk cooler, his short sleeve fell back a few inches, revealing a line of tattooed script curling around his biceps.

  Meghan didn’t find that glimpse of skin unattractive, either.

  Flushing, she glanced away, studying her surroundings. The small table was flanked by three plastic chairs. There was a microwave and mini-fridge near the time clock. As employee lounges went, it was pretty dismal, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She completed the application, leaving the desired pay box empty.

  This position had minimum wage written all over it.

  It took her a few more minutes to fill out the W-2 and to figure out how to clock in with a time sheet. When that was done, she retreated to the bathroom to change her shirt. The energy-efficient lighting made her face look wan and her eyes hollow.

  Shuddering, she rearranged her headband and walked out.

  Eric was standing by the table, drinking bottled water. She watched his smooth brown throat work as he swallowed.

  “Um … where can I put my stuff?”

  Glancing at her canvas messenger bag, he opened a lower cabinet. “Here.”

  She tossed her bag inside, among others. “Thanks.”

  He nodded politely, but his demeanor seemed guarded. Maybe Jack’s comment about hygiene had embarrassed him.

  “El gusto es mío,” she said on impulse.

  Laughing softly, he shook his head. “That phrase isn’t really appropriate for this situation, but okay.”

  “I guess I need more practice.”

  His gaze dropped to her lips for a moment, and she got the impression that he wanted to offer his assistance.

  “Well, um, see you later,” she said, beating a hasty retreat.

  “Later,” he agreed.

  The next few hours passed in a rush. Jack hadn’t lied about being shorthanded, and his hands-off managerial style was inefficient. Some employees were more helpful than others. Meghan bagged double the amount of groceries as did Cristina, for example.

  Before she knew it, darkness had fallen, and it was closing time.

  “Come back tomorrow afternoon,” Jack said.

  When Meghan left the building, Eric was already outside, unlocking his bike. It was a dark, hot night. “Do you live far?” he asked, reading the trepidation on her face.

  “A few miles. Imperial Beach.”

  He nodded. “I can ride with you.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Castle Park.”

  That neighborhood was in the opposite direction, which made his offer twice as sweet. “Is—is it safe around here this late?”

  “Not always. Not for a girl alone.”

  “I’ll be okay as long as I stay on my bike,” she asserted.

  “You have a cell phone?”

  She shook her head. In a fit of pique, her mother had demanded that Meghan return it before she left home.

  “Hold on a minute,” he said, rummaging through his backpack. He found a metal whistle on a white string. “Try that.”

  Pursing her lips, she brought it to her mouth and blew. The sound it made was loud and shrill, piercing the night air. They both laughed in surprise.

  “That’ll attract attention,” he said.

  She looped the whistle around her neck. “I’ll give it back tomorrow.”

  “Don’t worry about it. My niece gave it to me. She thinks I like toys.”

  Meghan smiled. “Then it’s extra-special.”

  They stared at each other for another moment. She wished she’d agreed to let him take her home. Flustered, she bent to unlock her bike from the rack. When they parted ways on the main drag, she felt a strange pull, as if an invisible thread connected them.

  Touching the metal at her neck, still cool against her skin, she pedaled home.

  6

  April sprang awake at seven the next morning, her heart pounding.

  She’d had a nightmare that Josefa took Jenny to the beach on the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle. April was chasing after them in her car. She thought she could hear Jenny screaming, but she couldn’t get the windows rolled down. Her front windshield was dusty and the sun was too bright, obstructing her vision.

  Traffic stopped suddenly. In a squeal of tires, she rear-ended another vehicle.

  Shaking off the bad dream, she sat up, pushing the hair out of her eyes. Jenny was a soft, warm weight beside her. As usual, she’d drifted toward April in the middle of the night. Now her small body was on April’s side of the queen-sized bed, leaving the other half empty.

  April slid off the edge with a groan. Although she paid every penny of rent, she shared a room with Jenny. Until recently, she’d been satisfied with the arrangement. Jenny had never liked her crib, not even as a newborn, so April had brought the baby into her bed, where they were both comfortable. She’d been a nervous young mother, and keeping Jenny close felt reassuring. Being together at night had worked for them.

  Over time, April began to wish for more personal space. Jenny didn’t need to be snuggled as much or watched every moment. Like most little girls, she longed for her own room, filled with fun toys, decorated in her favorite colors.

  April ached to give her those things. She hadn’t planned to be a teen mother or a single parent, but she’d promised to do right by Jenny. She wanted more for her daughter than what she’d had: no father figure, no financial stability, no positive role models.

  But here she was, struggling to make ends meet, going it alone. Like Josefa, April had a history of poor choices and bad men.

  She knew her mother was sorry about leaving Jenny the other night. When they came back from the beach, Josefa had greeted them with a nice dinner. She’d even made Jenny’s favorite desert, orange flan. April wasn’t appeased by the gesture, but she hadn’t said a word. After a tense evening, they all retired early.

  April couldn’t keep her silence any longer.

  She used the bathroom and dressed quickly, splashing cool water on her face. Then she woke Jenny, giving her a light breakfast before ushering her out the door. Yesterday, she’d spoken to her neighbor about taking over for Josefa as Jenny’s babysitter. Consuela had three daughters of her own, the youngest of whom was Jenny’s age, and the girls were already playmates. Her husband worked a seasonal job up north, and Consuela said she could use the extra money. It was a relief to have the details settled.

  Now she had to break the news to Josefa.

  April took Jenny by the hand, looking both ways before they crossed the street. Filled with apprehension, she knocked on Consuela’s front door. “Can Jenny play with Fabiana for a few minutes?” she asked in Spanish, after the woman answered. “I need to talk to my mother about our … situation.”

  “My abuelita is sick,” Jenny said helpfully. “She takes too much medicine.”

  Consuela waved her inside. “Of course, m’ija. Take all the time you need.”

  “Gracias.”

  April wiped her sweaty palms on her shorts as she returned to her house. It was cool and overcast at this time of morning, but the sun would burn through the clouds soon enough. Inside the living room, Josefa was curled up on the couch, her slender hands wrapped around an oversize coffee mug
.

  April needed some caffeine herself. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, anticipating this conversation.

  “Where’s Jenny?”

  “At Consuela’s. From now on she’s going to sleep over there on the evenings I work.”

  Her mother recoiled as if she’d been struck. Then she set her mug aside. “I’m sorry about the other night. I feel terrible about leaving Jenny. I meant to come right back, and—” She waved her hands in front of her face, erasing the memory of her transgression. “No excuses. It won’t happen again.”

  April sank into an overstuffed chair, not bothering with coffee. Her stomach was already churning. “Has it happened before?”

  She blinked her pretty brown eyes. “No.”

  Hiding her unsteady hands, April crossed her arms over her chest. “Have you brought men over?”

  “No,” Josefa said, with more vehemence.

  April thought she was telling the truth, but Josefa was a good liar. “If I find out you let a man so much as look at my daughter, I will never forgive you. Ever.”

  Josefa’s eyes filled with tears. “I haven’t.”

  April felt the same pressure behind her eyelids, so she took a deep breath. She pictured Jenny cowering in her closet, and it tore her apart inside. As a child, April had done the same, when one of Josefa’s boyfriends had tried to break in to her room at night.

  She’d rather die than allow that to happen to Jenny. “I’m sorry, Mamá. I can’t live like this anymore. You have to get help—or leave.”

  Josefa stared at her in disbelief. “Because of one little mistake?”

  “It was a big mistake, Mom. And hardly your first.”

  “It won’t happen again,” she swore.

  “I found coke in your purse.”

  Her face paled. “That wasn’t mine.”

  Although her throat felt raw, April made a scoffing sound. “What if Jenny found your stash? What if she decided to try one of your ‘vitamins’?”

  “I’ll cut down,” she said, making the sign of the cross. “Te lo juro.”

  She’d heard that promise before. “No.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want you to quit. Join a program. Attend meetings. Whatever it takes.”

  Josefa stayed silent for a moment, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “My life has been damned hard, and I think I deserve to have some fun. When Jenny gets older, you’ll want to let your hair down, too.”

  “You’ve been letting your hair down since before I was born, Mom.”

  “That’s not true! I doted on you when you were a baby. I’ve always been devoted to you. And to Jenny. How many hours have I cared for her and never asked for a dime? This is the thanks I get? For taking you in when you were pregnant, your face bruised—”

  April held up a hand, warding off the tirade. “You watched Jenny in exchange for reduced rent, which you haven’t paid in months. You’ve also stolen money from my purse. We’re more than square.”

  Her mother reached out to grab her wrist. “Don’t take Jenny away from me. I love her so much. Please.”

  April pulled away from Josefa’s clawlike grasp, pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling. “You’re not welcome here anymore. I won’t accept your calls or let you visit. Until you decide to get clean, I don’t want you in my daughter’s life.” Her voice wavered, threatening to break. “I don’t want you in my life.”

  “You’re throwing me out on the streets,” Josefa said, rising to her feet. “Where do you expect me to go?”

  Her mother knew at least a dozen men who would take her out partying, but none who would support her on a long-term basis. Most of her friends were irresponsible drunks. She hadn’t worked in almost a year, and she no longer received disability checks for the minor injury that had fueled her prescription-drug addiction.

  She had no money, no resources, no opportunities. April was literally kicking her mother to the curb. “I’m sorry,” she said, swallowing hard.

  Josefa stormed out of the room, making her choice. “I can quit anytime I want to.” Cursing in Spanish, she opened her dresser drawers and started throwing her clothes on the bed. “Just because you’re fría, you think everyone should live like a nun.”

  April looked away, blinking the tears from her eyes. “I’m taking Jenny to the park for a few hours,” she said, moving toward the front door before she could change her mind. “I don’t want her to be traumatized by a big scene. If you love her as much as you say you do, you’ll go quietly.” She walked out, stifling a sob with the back of her hand.

  Oh, God. She’d just sentenced her mother to a lifetime of turning tricks and sleeping under bridges.

  What kind of a horrible person was she?

  Hitching her purse up on one shoulder, she strode across the street to retrieve Jenny. Consuela looked concerned, and April couldn’t think of a way to put her mind at ease. Giving her a wobbly smile, she took Jenny by the arm and pulled her along, needing to get away from the neighborhood before she broke down.

  They walked to the nicer park, the one in the quiet neighborhood near Imperial Beach. Jenny bothered her with incessant questions the entire way. A tension headache began to throb at her temples, blurring the edges of her vision.

  Most of the time, Jenny was a sweet, well-behaved child, but her boundless energy and quick intelligence made her difficult to care for. She was active, inquisitive, and chatty. When April was upset or distracted, Jenny often reacted by dialing up the wattage on her high-octane personality. Today there was no shushing her.

  As soon as they arrived at the park, April bought a diet soda from the vending machine. After taking a long drink, she surrendered to the inevitable and let Jenny have a sip. “Just what you need,” she muttered. “Caffeine.”

  “Can I go play now?”

  She collapsed on the park bench. “Hang on a second. I want to talk to you about something.”

  Jenny sat down next to her, impatient. Her eyes darted across the grassy lawn, still wet with morning dew, toward the small playground.

  April put her hand on Jenny’s arm, holding her attention. “Your abuelita will be staying with some friends for a while. She’s not going to live with us anymore.”

  Jenny frowned. “Why?”

  A lump rose to her throat. “Because the medicine is making her sick,” she managed, “and she needs to go away to get better.”

  Jenny’s eyes filled with tears. “Will she be gone forever, like Daddy?”

  April hadn’t seen that question coming, and it hit her like a sucker punch. Raul had been gone only a few years, and he had several more left in his prison sentence. It probably seemed like forever to Jenny, who had very few memories of her father. To April, it wasn’t long enough by half.

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I hope she’ll come back. For now you’ll go to Fabiana’s house on the nights I have to work.”

  Jenny’s face became animated. “Like … a sleepover?”

  “Yes.”

  She thought about it for a moment. “Okay.”

  After a few more questions, about which toys she could take with her, Jenny leapt off the bench and ran toward the playground, happy.

  April drank her Diet Coke in silence, relieved by the respite. She hadn’t been sure how Jenny would take the news. More tears would probably come later, after she had time to process the information.

  Hopefully, Josefa would leave with dignity rather than hysterics.

  If Jenny had a father at home, things would be different. April had no one to turn to for emotional support. Other than work or class, she didn’t go anywhere without Jenny. There were no days off from being a parent. She couldn’t take a nap on the beach while Jenny splashed in the waves or doze on the park bench while she ran around the playground.

  The constant vigilance was exhausting.

  What she needed most—a break—she couldn’t have. And yet, despite Jenny’s company, she felt unbearably alone.
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  “Damn it,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Even tears seemed like a luxury at this point. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t break down and bawl like a baby in a public park.

  When she’d left Raul, she vowed to be a good mother. For years, she’d had no interest in dating. She hadn’t wanted to be like Josefa, bringing strange men in and out of her daughter’s life. Now she wondered if she’d made the right choice. Jenny adored Eric, and there were other nice guys out there. Maybe Jenny would have benefited from having another man around.

  April could certainly use the help.

  Her mother had called her fría—cold. She wasn’t cold; she was afraid. Afraid that if she started dating again, she’d make bad choices. If she had a few drinks, she’d go back to her old ways. If she let down her guard, she’d get hurt, physically and emotionally, all over again.

  She sighed, taking a small notebook out of her purse to crunch numbers. During the summer she always worked full-time, so they were in good shape. She’d planned to cut down her hours at the club when school started. Serving drinks until the wee hours of the morning made it difficult to stay alert in class.

  Now that she had to pay for a babysitter, she’d have to work at least three nights a week or continue to rely on Eric for handouts. Frustrated, she shoved the notebook back into her purse, glancing toward the playground.

  Jenny was gone.

  Noah’s running shoes pounded the pavement as he crossed 5th Avenue. He usually stayed in his own neighborhood, paying only cursory attention to his surroundings. Today he’d brought the case with him and been drawn to a different part of town.

  The grainy footage from Club Suave had been almost worthless. The quality was so poor, he could barely tell the waitresses apart. Both Lola Sanchez and April Ortiz had long, dark hair and similar body types. On closer study, he recognized April by her brisk walk and confident posture. Lola delivered drinks in a more leisurely fashion, lingering at certain tables. From what he could tell, none of the customers behaved in a strange or inappropriate way.

  Tony Castillo said he hadn’t seen Lola at all that day. He’d admitted that Lola was his sometimes girlfriend but stuck to the story that he’d been cruising the red-light district alone. Even after a cache of narcotics was seized at his residence, Castillo refused to name his partner. He’d been charged with possession, intent to sell, and trafficking.