The next two weeks were hectic for Portia. She alternated between skipping her regular morning and afternoon classes to stay home with Penny. Still, she did not miss any of her ensemble practices.
She'd even taken the time to talk to Mr. Tanner and the principal about her situation. Although she was still on probation, all of her absences were excused as long as she kept up with her homework.
The principal was Alex’s history teacher ten years earlier. Alex was one of his favorite students. It could be one of the reasons Phoebe and Portia's punishment was less severe than it could have been.
Portia also packed Penny into her papoose to run errands. She took her job application to Jack’s Aquarium. Unfortunately, Bill was not there. Still, that gave her more time for everything else.
First, she went to the Nursery to get flowers for her hummingbird garden.
“The best color for attracting hummingbirds is always red,” said the nursery worker, “but any flowering plant with sweet nectar will work just fine. I recommend we mix and match.”
“I don’t have that much money.”
“We’ll make it work,” he replied.
He picked out a mix of bee balm, honeysuckle, and trumpet vine. He rang it up and it came to more money than Portia had. He removed two plants and the new total came in under Portia’s total money.
“There you go.”
She thanked the clerk, even though she was a little sad inside. She needed that money for lunch and the bus, too. She rode home on the bus with Penny and her new plants. As soon as she got home, her mother interrogated her.
“You’re skipping school to go buy plants?”
“I skipped school to watch Penny. I went to the Nursery to buy flowers for my hummingbirds.”
“You’re not going to get hummingbirds in Pennsylvania,” said her mom.
“John Audobon says I can.”
“Who?”
“Forget it,” said Portia.
“I don’t think he’s ever been to Pennsylvania, dearie.”
Portia sat her flowers on the table and put Penny to bed. Penny fussed and cried as loud as she could.
“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ve got gardening to do. I’ll be right back as soon as I can.”
She went upstairs to change and came downstairs to get her plants. She stopped in front of the couch.
“Daddy, can you help me with these flowers?”
“Where did you get these?”
“From the nursery. They’re for the hummingbirds.”
Mother scoffed.
“Sure, I can help you.”
Mrs. Gatteau shot a nasty look at her husband. However, Mr. Gatteau ignored her as he took the flower tray out the front door. Portia followed close behind.
The outside was dirty and gray. An old chain link fence separated the brownstones from the nearby apartment complex. Mr. Gatteau got a screwdriver and mortar trowel from his tiny tool shed behind the apartment. It was all he had for gardening.
The parking lot behind their brownstone belonged to the apartment complex. The apartments were Section 8, just like everything else in that neighborhood. People worked on broken-down cars. School age children played in the streets – when they should be in school. Still, others grilled out in the middle of the day – when they should be at work.
Nearly everyone stopped and stared at Portia and her father when they came outside. Mr. Gatteau was unfazed. He sat the tray of flowers on the ground and handed the screwdriver to Portia.
“Use this to dig some holes.”
Meanwhile, he used the trowel to dig holes, too. They planted every flower in the tray – two dozen red and purple and pink flowers – all designed to bring hummingbirds to a little part of a ghetto in urban Pennsylvania.
“There yo go,” said father.
“We need to water them, too.”
“Of course,” he replied.
They went inside and filled empty milk jugs and two-liter bottles with cold water. They carefully watered every flower. Portia took the vines of the Trumpet Vine and twisted it around one of the gas lines scaling the outside wall.
“Perfect,” she said as she stepped a few feet back and admired their handiwork. It really did brighten up the dingy old brownstone. She’d wished she’d thought of this a long time ago.
“Now all we need is the visitors,” added her father.
Mrs. Gatteau stood at the back door, shaking her head. She not only thought it wasn’t just silly, but it also embarrassed her a little. What a trifle to plant flowers in downtown.
“I’m just telling you, you’ll never get hummingbirds here, no matter how many flowers you plant.”
Neither Portia nor her father replied. Of course, it wouldn’t have done any good. Mrs. Gatteau was good at shooting down any argument. She was even better at getting the last word.
“Dad?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Can I go see Marcus after ensemble?”
He nodded.
“Who’s going to watch Penny?”
“We can watch her,” he replied, “Now go on, dear.”
Portia grabbed her backpack and was out the door in no time at all. She went to choir practice, taking her place next to Phoebe on the bleachers.
“Sophie…I need you front and center.”
Phoebe cocked her hip to one side and folded her arms. Mr. Tanner glanced toward her. He quickly returned his attention to his soloist.
“Let’s start with ‘I am what I am.’”
Sophie sang through the first verse and part of the chorus, her voice straining to hit every note along the way. Mr. Tanner stopped mid-chorus. Phoebe perked up when Mr. Tanner turned his attention to his best diva. Unfortunately, he went with Portia yet again.
Sophie nodded and stepped aside as Mr. Tanner subbed in his first replacement for Phoebe. Portia adjusted the microphone stand, moving it further from the stage.
“Bring the microphone upstage, Portia.”
“I can tune better to the other singers if I’m just a little further back.”
“Upstage, Portia.”
She returned the stand to its original position. As Mr. Tanner played the song, Portia belted it out – hitting every note better than she ever had before. She was in the zone.
“Terrific, Portia! Absolutely teriffic!”
Phoebe clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. There was a moment of silence. Everyone but Mr. Tanner ignored it. He went on, leading the ensemble in a few other songs before releasing the group.
Things were back to their old ways. Phoebe had no intention of taking her sister home. Portia had no plans of riding in Phoebe’s car anyway. She took the crosstown bus to see Marcus instead.
For a change, Marcus was home and Darren was not.
“Where’s your brother?” she asked.
“Don’t know and don’t care. Probably out getting stoned.”
Marcus grabbed Portia by the hand and led her directly to the bedroom.
“Wait…”
“Come on, the living room is filthy.”
Portia could not argue with that. When Darren was home, he spent all of his time on the couch – eating, sleeping, drinking, smoking, and playing video games. He’d left old fast food wrappers all over the floor along with a wastebasket turned into an over-sized ashtray. It had become so full that a haze of ash and dust hung above it.
“Okay, but I need to finish filling out my Financial Aid Forms.”
She dug the forms out of her backpack and set them on his desk.
“We can fill out forms later,” said Marcus.
“I want to fill them out now.”
Portia sat at the desk and started on page one. Marcus leaned back on his mattress and turned on his television. He flipped through the sports stations, stopping periodically to watch each channel. It bothered Portia – almost as much as his constant pick-up games at the basketball court. But, as Darren always said, “You knew what you were getting long before you started dating my brother.”
She finished her FAF and packed it into her backpack. She sat on the edge of Marcus’ bed and took the remote. She changed the channels until she found something she liked. It was a crime drama. Marcus did not like crime dramas, but when Portia crawled back onto the bed and curled into his arms, he would make the sacrifice.
“You’re serious about going to college this quarter, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” replied Portia.
“I wish I had half your work ethic.”
“I don’t know how people don’t want to work.”
“That’s sort of funny after meeting your family.”
“What do you mean?”
“All I ever see when I come over to your house is your mom and dad drunk on the couch. Your sister is always stoned or over at Ace’s.”
“My father worked for the post office most of his life.”
“But he’s collecting worker’s compensation and he’s perfectly able to work.”
Portia scooted to the end of the bed and jumped up. What was briefly a nice and romantic mood was spoiled. She picked up her backpack and started to leave.
“Come on, Portia, you know I’m right.”
“Marcus…my father has always been a hard worker.”
“That’s just not what I see.”
Deep down, Portia knew he was right. Although she loved her father deeply – she knew he chose the easy way out. He was a good man, but he was rarely motivated. Portia thought it was her mother’s doing – Mrs. Gatteau had never done an honest day’s work all her life. Portia figured the only reason her mother had kids was to get help cleaning the house.
“Let’s not talk about that any more,” said Portia.
She dropped her pack next to the living room couch and sat down. Marcus sat down beside Portia and comforted her.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
“I know,” she sniffled.
The more Marcus consoled her, the worse she felt. She was in a miserable situation and she could not wait to escape.
“Do you think I’m silly?”
“Why do you say that?” Marcus chuckled.
“For wanting to go to school?”
“Look, Portia, you’re still young. You need to be patient right now.”
”But I already have my future mapped out…”
“You can’t possibly know where you’ll be ten years from now. Two years ago, I thought I’d be at some major university, playing basketball and making a name for myself – seeing NBA recruits and getting ready for the big time. Life has a funny way of getting between a person and his or her goals.”
Portia kissed Marcus softly as he held her. He returned the kiss, moving his hand down her ribs and along her hips.
“Can we just cuddle?”
“Of course, baby.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
She leaned into his warm body and inhaled his cologne. He smelled so good. His starched cotton button-down shirt wrinkled under her weight. She closed her eyes and listened to the muted sounds of the television in Marcus’ room. Somehow, he changed the channel back to another sports show. Oddly, she found it comforting.
She breathed easily in the darkness of the front room. Marcus pressed his lips against the top of her head. He could just as well been sucking all the negative thoughts out of her head as she floated on the comforts of his embrace.
Just then, the front door popped open. It was Darren. Portia popped up and sat upright next to Marcus.
“Oh, hey, sorry,” said Darren.
“No problem, bro.”
Marcus got up and turned on a light. Portia squinted her eyes until they adjusted to the bright light.
“Where have you been?” asked Marcus.
“I was at the Auto Body Shop, talking to Ace.”
Marcus nodded.
“He wants me to pick up more hours at the Detailing Shop.”
“Isn’t Ace a drug dealer?” asked Portia.
“That’s only one thing he does,” said Darren, “he also owns the 27th Street Body Shop.”
“That’s just a cover for his drug business,” said Marcus.
“He started that shop long before he was a dealer.”
“He’s always been a dealer.”
“Whatever, big brother. He’s got a genius mind for business.”
Marcus scoffed.
“Whatever, you don’t really know a thing about him.”
“I know he’s big trouble,” said Marcus. He picked up Portia’s backpack and held out a hand, all in one motion, “Are you ready to go?”
“I suppose,” nodded Portia.
Without saying another word to his brother, Marcus escorted Portia to the car and took her home.
“He’s full of hot air.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Portia, “Maybe Ace is a good guy.”
“You haven’t met him, have you?”
Portia shook her head.
“Well, he’s not. I promise you that.”
Marcus kisses Portia on the forehead and the temple. He grabbed the back of her neck with his right hand. The rough callouses on his fingers softly scratched her skin. He pressed his lips into hers. It was a long, lingering, passionate kiss.
Portia inhaled one last whiff of his cologne before saying goodnight. When she got inside, Phoebe gave Portia more good news.
“Someone named Bill called. He said ‘come down to the Pet Store whenever you want to start. He’s got your flowers, just as promised.”
Now Portia felt perfect. Everything was dropping right into place.
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