By the time I thought of an answer, she had already left.
Spending forty dollars on toys and books hadn’t felt very smart. Yet realizing I hadn’t been properly providing for Aurora made guilt surge at my throat.
I’m not a good mother.Selfish, manipulative, a bitch. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I at least be a good mother?
The usual refrain had twisted itself back into my brain, and I actually felt thankful that Debbie had somehow found my money and gone to purchase the things that I should have figured out a way to get for Aurora before.
Carmelo used to allow me to go to the supermarket once a week. Always with a list, and he’d check everything I bought, andhit me if I bought things that he didn’t consider were necessities.
I know he wouldn’t have thought baby items were a necessity.
But I should have put her first. What’s a punch compared to providing for her? I shouldn’t have let my fear of him get in the way of taking care of her.
That day, Debbie didn’t come back with much, apart from a notebook, crayons, and a few used storybooks.
While she was gone, I’d quickly gotten both Aurora and I dressed, and brought her over to the diner. I spent what little time I had before my first shift clearing out the room in the back and doing my best to baby-proof it for Aurora. When Debbie returned a while later with her meager purchases, I felt a new surge of thankfulness, coupled with even more guilt when I saw how excited Aurora was to look at everything.
Seriously, what kind of a mother was I? I’d never gotten her a toy, let alone a book. I’d never thought about anything but keeping her with me at every moment, shielding her from Carmelo and from the rough guys who’d sometimes pass through the house.
But later on, that thankfulness died right back down when I asked Debbie for my change.
“What change?”
“You got her three books and some crayons. That couldn’t have cost you forty dollars, could it?”
She merely shrugged. “Times are hard, honey. Things are pricey. Now go wait on table four.”
That was the first moment suspicion wormed its way into my brain.
Was this woman, who was offering me a place to stay and food to eat… taking advantage of me?
No. Without her, we’d be on the streets.
Or dead.
But every day, my suspicion kept growing stronger, until it gave way to actual panic.
Was she lying when she said she’d buy us tickets? Are we going to be stuck here forever?
It took thirty full days for my mind to panick enough that I started planning something drastic.
Another two days for my heart to give in to what my mind was screaming at me to do, because I never imagined myself beingthatmanipulative.
But I’d be a whole lot more manipulative for Aurora, though that doesn’t mean I don’t hate myself for the way I watch Debbie for the first time as she carefully counts her money, before putting it in a metal box and locking it with the key that hangs from her neck.
“Well, let’s go,” she says, tapping me on the arm and startling me out of my thoughts. “You’re looking a little peaked, honey. You should take it easy.”
I bite down on the retort that’s on the tip of my tongue: how can I possibly take it easy when I’m doing all the work for two, while she reads her Danielle Steel novels in the kitchen, in between microwaving the frozen food she buys two towns over?
But lashing out is the worst thing I can possibly do right now. Instead, I lift Aurora up in my arms, though carrying a growing child is not something my aching arms want to do right now. The rest of me, though, is just hungering for a hug from my little girl, so I nestle my face in her curls and listen happily as she chirps excitedly about her day.
“Mama, pancake was good! Mama, played ball with boy! Mama, mama, arm wentboom boom.”
“Hmm? What arm?” I question distractedly, as we walk into Debbie’s cramped apartment, and I deposit my little girl wearily on the closed toilet in the bathroom. “Do you want to brush your teeth first, or mama?”
“Mama,” she insists. “Boom boom!”
“You know what, we’ll have a competition. Let’s see who can brush their teeth the longest!” I put a pea of toothpaste on her brush, more on mine. She laughs as she chews on the brush when I try to bring it over her teeth.