Portia went downstairs late the next morning and turned on the television. A faith healer preached to the crowd, who was standing in the aisles, singing a song and waving their hands in the air.
Portia dropped the remote in the recliner and went to the kitchen. She poured milk into a saucepan, added butter and brought it to a slow boil. She then pulled a box of Cream of Wheat from the cabinet and added it to the milk. She turned the heat down low and added a few spoonfuls of brown sugar to the mix.
She fixed a bowl of Cream of Wheat for herself and went into the living room. The preacher spoke about the wages of sin and the straight and narrow path. Portia returned to the kitchen and fixed herself another bowl and a bowl for Phoebe. She balanced them carefully as she returned upstairs.
“Are you up?”
Phoebe muttered incoherently.
“This is for you.”
Portia sat the bowl on Phoebe’s end table, next to a brand new gold chain.
“Where did you get this?”
“Nate gave it to me last night.”
“What did you do to get this?”
“Not a thing.”
“It must be worth a fortune.”
“18 karat.”
“It is not.”
“It is so,” argued Phoebe, “here’s the receipt to prove it.”
Portia’s jaw dropped.
“That’s three zeroes.”
“I told you.”
Portia gawked at the receipt for a few more moments.
“You want to try it on?”
“I shouldn’t…can I?”
“Go ahead.”
Portia went to the vanity and tried it on. She ran her fingers over the herringbone pattern. It certainly was beautiful.
“You should return it.”
“No way. Would you?”
“Of course I would.”
“No you wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
Portia unfastened the chain and put it back in its box. She then went to her corner and ate her Cream of Wheat. Phoebe rolled over in bed and quickly went back to sleep. Their mother opened the bedroom door about fifteen minutes later.
“You left the stove on, didn’t you?”
“Oh no!” exclaimed Portia as she jumped to her feet.
“Don’t worry, I turned it off. You know you could’ve burned the house down.”
“I’m sorry.”
Her mother closed the door, nearly slamming it shut. It jarred Phoebe from bed.
“What was that?”
“Mom.”
Phoebe snatched the Cream of Wheat from the end table and ate it. Even though it was cold, it was still breakfast in bed. She got back under the covers afterwards and went to sleep again.
Portia sneaked another look at the necklace. She even went so far as to wear it around her neck for a short period of time. It made her think about last night.
“What about last night?” she said out loud.
Last night was miserable. She wished she’d listened to Marcus and went out with someone else. Anto had asked. Why didn’t she just say yes? Oh yeah – her sister pushed her to the ground, beat her up, and got her suspended from school and banned from the dance. That’s why.
Portia put the necklace into the jewelry box and carefully slid it into place on the side table. She changed into a t-shirt and jeans and went downstairs. Her mother was on the couch with her father, using his knee as a pillow.
“I’m going to the library.”
“On a Sunday?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go see Marcus.”
“You’re over there too much,” said mother, “you’ve been there five days in a row. He’s going to get sick and tired of you.”
Portia did not reply, although she could’ve asked why her mother was suddenly keeping tabs. She took the crosstown bus, only to find campus empty. The library doors were locked, too. Portia headed over to the apartment. Darren was sitting in his normal spot on the couch, getting stoned and playing video games alone.
“He’s playing basketball.”
“This early on a Sunday?”
Portia plopped herself on the couch next to Darren and dug into her backpack.
“Why are you always studying?” asked Darren.
“I hate wasting time.”
“I wish I had half your will power.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t see any point in it.”
He returned to his video game as Portia turned to her bird book. She focused on the video game’s soundtrack as she read her book. It was oddly hypnotic
“Do you ever wonder about video games?”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s people who program the video and plan the story for every single video game. There are even music composers. Haven’t you ever thought about all those missed opportunities?”
“Yeah, sometimes.”
“What do you do?”
“Auto detailing.”
“Do you really want to do that for the rest of your life?”
“I’m good at it.”
“I didn’t ask if you were good at it. Is that where you see yourself ten years from now?”
“I don’t know.”
“How do you think about what you’re missing if you don’t know where you want to go?”
Darren put down his game controller and looked at Portia.
“I know where I want to go. I just don’t know how to get there.”
“So, where is it?”
“Where I want to go? I guess I’ve always wanted to be a chef.”
“Then why not go to school?’
“It’s too much work.”
“Life is all about the work you do, the things you create,” said Portia.
She turned her attention to her book again.
“So, what do you want to be?” asked Darren.
“An ornithologist.”
Darren chuckled, “that’s pretty specific. I think you should go for it. I bet you’d make a good ornithologist.”
“Do you even know what an ornithologist does?”
Darren shrugged his shoulders and laughed, “not really.”
“They study birds.”
“What made you want to do that?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve always wanted to work with animals and I’ve always been obsessed with birds. They are the most magnificent machines on earth.”
Portia returned to her reading again and Darren returned to his gaming. After the rest of morning passed with no sign of Marcus, Darren offered to make lunch. It was a simple deli sandwich, but Darren did a few extras. He grilled swiss cheese between two layers of turkey, then he buttered and grilled the bread before carefully cutting the bread away from the crust and grilling it again. He served it with a pile of plain potato chips.
Portia’s eye’s grew as he presented the finished sandwich. She took one bite. The slight grease from the grilled turkey melted and melded with the grilled swiss cheese and toasted bread.
“You should definitely be a chef. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“I just make it up as I go along. You’re always hungry when you smoke as much pot as I do.”
“You should definitely consider taking classes.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Portia decided she’d waited long enough, so she thanked Darren for lunch and took the bus home. On the way home, she called her brother
“Alex?”
“Hey sis, what’s up?”
“Nothing much, just riding the bus home from Marcus’ house. What about you?”
“Just watching Penny.”
“Where’s Ramona?”
“I don’t know and I don’t know if I really care.”
“You should do something about that,” replied Portia.
“Raising a child isn’t that easy.”
“I know, but you’re letting Ramona escape her responsibilities.”
“Aw, Portia.”
“You know you can always lean on me if you need help.”
“You’d better look before you leap, little sister.”
“I’m serious.”
“Okay, I need you to watch Penny while I run some errands.”
“Okay, but I won’t be home for another hour.”
“Tell me where you are and I’ll pick you up.”
Portia and Alex synced their plans. Alex quickly got Penny ready and met Portia at the nearest bus stop only ten minutes later.
“I’ll drop you off at my place and then I’ll be back in just a few hours.”
Penny started wailing as soon as Alex left and did not settle down for over two hours. Portia tried just about everything except time. It was time that finally beat Penny. After she had cried herself to sleep, Portia tucked her into her crib and curled herself up on the couch.
“What are you doing here?” said a voice.
Portia looked up, only to see Ramona and a couple of her friends standing over her.
“I’m watching Penny.”
“Where’s Alex?”
“He’s running errands.”
“How long has he been gone?”
Portia looked at her watch.
“About four hours.”
“I’m going to have a word with him when he gets home.”
“Where have you been?” asked Portia pointedly.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“It is if you’re going to accuse my brother of leaving Penny when you’re gone all night and all day.”
“You can leave now, Portia.”
“No.”
“It’s my house. You can leave now.”
Although Ramona’s friends weren’t necessarily threatening, Portia knew that there was nobody to support her, so she left. Ramona closed the door right behind Portia, locking it before Portia even got off the front porch.
Portia immediately called her brother.
“Stay there, I’ll be right over.”
Portia waited out front for over twenty minutes, with Ramona periodically checking on her from the bedroom window. When Alex arrived, the chain latch on the front door was closed.
“Unlock the door, Ramona,” he ordered.
“No.”
“Don’t make me call the police. They’ll throw you and your friends in jail.”
Ramona closed the door, slid the latch off the hook and opened the door.
“All you had to do was ask,” she said, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Ramona and her friends had been smoking pot while Portia waited outside. Alex went to Penny’s room. One of Ramona’s girlfriends stood over Penny’s crib, blowing smoke in the infant’s face.
“I’m leaving tonight and I’m taking Penny with me.”
“Oh no you’re not.”
“Ramona, don’t make me call the police and put you and all your friends in jail.”
“You wouldn’t dare! They’ll tell the cops you tried to hit me.”
Alex scoffed.
“Come on, Portia.”
He handed Penny to Portia and they went to his truck. Ramona stormed out the front door, chasing after Portia.
“Give me back my baby.”
Alex stepped between them.
“Go to the truck, Portia.”
Portia hurried to the truck and locked herself and Penny inside. Ramona wrestled with Alex, fighting her way to the truck. She smacked her hands on the window repeatedly and called Portia every name in the book. Alex got into the truck and away they went.
Ramona ran a short way after them. Then, Alex’s cell phone rang.
“Don’t answer it.”
It rang again. The voicemail alarm rang before the ringer started again. Ramona continued calling until Alex finally silenced the ringer. He tossed the cellphone onto the dash and drove Portia home.
All the lights were on at the Gatteau house. Alex took Penny into his arms and led Portia into the front door of his childhood home. Mother and father were watching television.
“I’m staying here tonight in my old room.”
They did not reply as he crossed through the living room to the basement. Portia was close behind.
“First things first,” said Alex, “we’ve got to make a bed for Penny.”
No comments:
Post a Comment