Speed of Life (16 page)

Amber and Natalie are gone when I finally wake up. I've missed PE again. God, I hope I don't flunk that course. How pathetic not to graduate because I failed sit-ups and running a mile in the rain. I don't see Amber all day, but I figure she's cooling off and thinking about everything, so I don't try to find her. After school I zip over to Jimmy's to get my paycheck so I can deposit it. Amber usually picks up Natalie on Fridays, but just in case, I plan to swing back by the daycare afterward and make sure.

There's a huge line at the bank—​it's payday—​and I have to wait for over half an hour. I don't know if it's all the tension in my life or what, but my feet hurt and my lower back aches. It's like I'm a little old lady. Finally I get up to the counter and hand over my check, telling the woman how much cash I need back.

I have to fill the Mustang's tank, pay our daycare fine, and buy some food. I asked Han at lunch to help me find a car seat. He's the thrift store king, and he promised to score something ASAP, so I'll need a little money for that, also. I made sure he knew to check for an expiration date.

When the teller hands me my receipt, I glance at the balance out of habit. I like to see our account growing. Except . . . it's not. My insides plunge like I'm on one of those scary rides at Oaks Park. I've already taken a step away from the counter, but I stop and go back. “Excuse me?” I say. “Is this right?”

The teller looks at her computer and my slip and nods. “Yeah. Is there a problem?”

“I should have almost twice that much.”

I know what's happened before she tilts the monitor toward me so I can see the screen, and all the pains in my body ratchet up.

“There was a withdrawal this morning,” she explains. “And then you made a deposit just now.”

I swear, my heart stops for what seems like forever. Amber's removed half of our savings. It's pretty clear she's bailed on me the way she thinks I've bailed on her. Nothing could've prepared me for how much this would feel like being run over by a garbage truck. I grab the edge of the counter until the wooziness passes. What have I done to us?

At the daycare, Mei-Zhen is surprised to see me. Not only did Amber pick up Nat an hour ago, but she paid the fine, too. I duck back out into the pouring rain. It's only four thirty and the days are finally getting a little longer, but the sky's so gray that it's almost dark. When I pull into the driveway, Amber's coming out the front door. She's got Natalie strapped into the Snugli, and she's pulling a pink rain poncho over them both. I hope Nat can breathe under there.

I slop through the mud that Bonehead's churned up, making a wide arc to avoid him and his filthy paws. As always, he's thrilled to see me. He probably thinks I'm gonna let him in the car. On the tiny porch, Amber's struggling to open an old polka-dot umbrella of Mom's.

“Where're you going?” I yell over the pounding of the rain.

“Work.”

“Let me change and I'll give you a ride.”

“No, thanks.” She steps around me.

“Amber, don't be stupid. You'll both get soaked and you'll get sick again.”

“Germs make you sick,” she says, “not bad weather.”

“Well, you can still get a chill.”

She ignores me, heading for the sidewalk. I go after her, but then Bonehead gives his chain a desperate yank and pulls the stake right out of the soft ground. By the time I've caught him, unhooked the chain, and shoved him into the back seat, Amber's a block and a half away. I catch up to her, slowing the car and rolling down the passenger side window.

“Get in,” I say. “You've made your point.”

She keeps walking, the wind tugging on the umbrella until it turns it inside out. Bonehead leans over the seat and sticks his head out the window, barking at her. I hear a wail come from under the poncho.

“Amber! Goddammit. Just get in the car!”

She's at the bus stop now, and she steps into the shelter, throwing the useless umbrella on the ground. I'm in the no-parking zone, but I don't give a damn. I'm about to get out and force her ass into the car when the bus comes barreling up behind me and the driver lays on his horn. I don't have any choice but to step on the gas, and as I drive away, I glance in my rearview mirror and see my stupid, stubborn, soaking wet sister get on the bus. Fine. Whatever.

After work, I stop by the Glass Slipper, but Aunt Ruby says Amber and Natalie caught a ride with Jade. “I didn't even know she had a car,” I say.

“New boyfriend,” Aunt Ruby says by way of explanation. “He's even got a job.”

I hope he's had a vasectomy, too. Otherwise, with Jade's record, he'll be a father in nine months.

When I get home, Gil's cuddling Nat on the couch. “Where's Amber?”

“Out with Jade.”

It's never good news when Amber hangs out with our cousin. I watch TV with Gil, but the whole time I'm listening for a car. At one in the morning I give up, change Nat, and take her to bed with me again. It's Amber's turn, and the fact that she's not here because of what I've done penetrates every tired, aching muscle with a sadness that follows me into my dreams.

I have the early shift on Saturday, which works out great because now Amber won't have to take Nat to the Glass Slipper tonight. Bringing the baby is fine with Aunt Ruby, but neither of us really likes it. Natalie shouldn't be hanging out in a tavern, even if she is too little to really know where she is. But we do what we gotta do.

By the time the Chevelle comes roaring into the lot at five minutes to three, I'm half frozen and more than ready to go home. “I'm out the door, Rosa.”

She nods, never taking her eyes off the cash register. “See you, Crys.”

David's climbing out of his car when I get to mine. “Hey, College Girl. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Stanford Boy.” I haven't seen him since I got my letter, but I was dying to tell someone who'd be happy for me, so yesterday I emailed him from the computer lab at school.

“Anything exciting happen today?” he asks.

Yesterday's storm has blown out, leaving the weather sunny and breezy, and I lean against the Mustang, feeling the cold metal through my thin jacket. “Mmm . . . nothing much here at work. Amber's still pissed, though.”

“She'll get over it,” he says. “Once she figures out you're doing it for all three of you.”

I told him in the email about Amber and Ms. Spellerman, too. Now I kind of regret being such a blabbermouth, but it's nice to have someone on my side. “We'll see,” I say. “You better get your ass inside before Rosa has a coronary. It's another big lottery night.”

“Okay. Let's do coffee. Soon.”

“Yeah, all right,” I say. But I laugh as I get into the car because seriously, who says “Let's do coffee”?

At home, Han's in the living room drinking a beer with Gil while Natalie naps in her playpen. She looks so sweet when she sleeps that I can almost forgive her for all those midnight feedings. Strewn around the living room are half a dozen Nordstrom shopping bags.

“What's all this?” I ask.

“Sit down. You are about to be amazed.” Han's grinning at me. He leads me over to the couch and hands me one of the bags. “Go ahead. Dig in.”

I lift out the cutest pair of green overalls in exactly Nat's size. There's a white turtleneck—​sprinkled with pink and green flowers—​to go with them. They look brand-new. “Wow. These are—”

“Keep going.” Han is hovering over me, holding another bag and practically dancing. Gil's watching, his eyes sparkling in the light from the TV.

I set the overalls aside and pull out three more pairs—​red, navy, and yellow. All of them have matching turtlenecks, too. “Han, this is incredible. Are they for Natalie? Where'd you get them?”

“There was an ad online for a bunch of baby stuff, and I called the lady about ten seconds after she posted it. She said she'd give it all to me as long as I picked it up today.”

“She
gave
you all this? For free?”

“Yep. She'd been saving it for her next baby, but then she had twin boys.”

“Wow.”

All the clothes are folded really nice, like they've come straight from the store, and in the bottom of the first bag, I find a white fur coat with a shiny purple lining. There's even a matching hat and tiny mittens “Oh my God.” It's all so beautiful. I get that tingly feeling in my nose, like I might cry, and I blink hard.

“Check this out,” Gil says, reaching into the bag at his feet. “Blankets!” He pulls them out, one after another, like Kleenex out of a dispenser. They're all pinks and creams and lavenders—​some of them look handmade, too.

“But why would she give me blankets if she had twins?”

“Duh,” Han says. “Those are too girly for boys.”

I press a yellow blankie to my face and surreptitiously wipe away a few tears. Han and Gil pretend not to notice. “Look at this, Nat,” I say, getting up and taking it over to the playpen. She's awake now and looks up at me with her baby blues as I lift off the stained quilt Jade gave us and drape this new one over her. She immediately grabs it with her tiny fists and sticks a corner in her mouth. “She likes it.”

“You haven't even looked at all the stuff,” Han says. “Her kid's, like, four now, so these other bags have bigger clothes in them.”

Now I do cry. I want to hide it because I feel silly, but there's no point. I wish Amber was here to see it all. At least then we'd both be crying together. “I'm sorry,” I say, wiping my eyes with the tail of my work shirt. “It's just so . . . so nice. I can't believe it.”

“Oh, you haven't even seen the best parts yet,” Han says. “Close your eyes.”

I do, and a minute later he tells me I can open them. Sitting in the middle of the living room is one of those totally deluxe baby strollers. It's got big thick tires, a sun shade over the top, pockets everywhere, and a padded seat that's adjustable so you can lay it down if your baby gets tired. It looks brand-new, too. It's so much better than the chintzy canvas one we've been using that I don't even care who sees me crying now.

“This is so . . . I don't understand. Why didn't she keep the stroller?” I ask, the tears running freely and my smile about to break my face.

“She got a double one,” Han says. He reaches behind the couch. “And get this . . .” He lifts up a hot pink and bright yellow car seat that's about a hundred—​no, a thousand—​times better than the piece of expired crap we have.

“She
gave
you that?” I say, rubbing my hands over the soft fabric. “For free? I can't believe it.”

“She didn't want it because she thought her twins should have matching ones.”

“Did you and Amber have matching car seats?” Gil asks, laughing.

“Yeah, right.” I say. “That's just stupid. But I'm glad she's so stupid. And nice.”

“That's rich people,” Gil tells us, like he knows a lot of them.

“Thank you, Han. Thank you so much.” I actually hug him, and he pats me lightly on the back like he's afraid of breaking me. It's hard to talk over the lump in my throat. “It's like Christmas in the movies. You're awesome, Han. You're totally awesome. I needed this so much right now.”

He turns a little pink and then says, “The lady told me the car seat's a convertible one. When Nat gets bigger, you make a few adjustments and it becomes a forward-facing seat. Whatever that means.”

I laugh. I'm not sure either, but if it means we don't have to get another one anytime soon, I'm extra grateful. I sift through all the amazing stuff while the guys watch basketball on TV. Every once in a while I catch Han looking at me, his eyes bright, proud of himself. He should be.

There're tights and shirts and dresses, pajamas, and about a dozen of those elastic headbands Amber loves so much. There are even four pairs of shoes: two everyday ones and two patent-leather pairs. Some of the stuff still has the tags attached. I can't wait to throw out every old, stained, crappy thing of Nat's.

After a while I lean back on the couch, all the stuff piled around me and across my lap. I'm buried in treasure. “Where's Amber? Did she see this?”

“Not yet. She went to work early,” Gil says. “I volunteered to watch Nat until you got home. It's easy, since all she ever does is sleep.”

“I wish,” I say.

All these nice things . . . this is what I want for Natalie. And for me and Amber, too. If I can graduate from McPherson, I'll make the kind of money that lets me be the one who gives away hand-me-downs to young moms. I wish I could make Amber see that somehow. That I would be doing the program for all three of us, and I'm not trying to mess up her life.

After a while, Gil's asleep, and me and Han are so cold that we dress up Natalie in a new turtleneck and overalls and go to Chuck E. Cheese's. Pizza is the last thing I want, since Gil brings it home all the time, but Chuck E. Cheese's is one place that welcomes babies and the food's pretty cheap. It's so warm in there that it's almost hot, and I shed my jacket for the first time all day. Han buys himself a pizza and me the unlimited salad bar, which we secretly share. I tell him all about McPherson and the automotive restoration program.

“That sounds fantastic,” he says.

I shrug. “Yeah, well . . . I doubt I'll really get to go.”

“I think you should. Don't give up too easy.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“God, no. I'd miss you all a lot.”

This is kind of sweet to hear, but also a little embarrassing for us both, and I jump up to get more salad. When I come back, we don't talk about anything important. After a couple of hours, Nat's sound asleep and I'm dead tired myself, so we get ready to head out. I know Amber's still mad, but when I button up Natalie's soft new coat, I can't help thinking that all in all, it's been a pretty good night.