asked was I any good and Willett said I could be.
Arthur said, “What about . . .” and lifted his hand off the remote and pointed at Willett.
Willett looked at his own pink hands and said, “I like being with Nicolette. Watching out for her.”
“That’s important,” Arthur said. “Kids.”
Willett said, “I reckon I’m going to work at the plant. Driving a forklift. In the pellet building.”
Arthur asked what shift and Willett said, “Screech’s, right now.”
Willett’s father nodded.
There was a commotion in the living room and Nicolette let out a squeal. Willett turned his head to the door and then back to his father.
Arthur said, “Go on.”
Getting a job at the plant. That was Willett’s guess-what.
* * *
MOMMA SAID, “Come on, little airplane girl,” and took Nicolette’s hands and started to spin. Nicolette laughed and her feet lifted into the air. Momma coughed and let go of one of her hands. Nicolette squealed as her other hand slipped free. She crashed into a big cupboard thing of old toys and antiques Willett’s mother had set up. Old, old Santa Clauses went flying everywhere. Corner of the cupboard caught Nicolette above the eye, and blood ran in her brow. Nicolette stood herself up and ran straight back to Momma.
I said, “Nicolette, come over here.”
Willett put his arm around Momma. Momma put her head on Willett’s shoulder, fake shocked. Willett’s mom went to Nicolette, pushed her hair back, took her and put a Band-Aid on her brow. Momma went behind her, asking Mrs. Bilson did she have some kind of ointment nobody ever heard of.
Momma’s carrying on scared us like when a truck goes too close by you walking at night. No time for fear till it was over. We were so shook when Momma asked to come with us back to the trailer, we didn’t have the wits to make up a reason to say no.
* * *
MOMMA had never asked where we live before and we never told her. On the way there, she stared out the backseat window of Willett’s hand-me-down Buick, fluttered her eyes at Nicolette’s trying to get her time.
Nicolette grabbed hold of her shirtsleeve, wanting to know Momma’s favorite cartoon, wanting to know had she been in an airplane. “Say, Momma Trish. Say.”
An edge come on Momma’s voice could’ve cut a pop can in half. Said, “I don’t know, goddammit. God Amighty, Dawn.”
I said, “Nicolette, leave her alone.” What I wanted to say is,
But I didn’t.
“Tricia,” Willett said, “you need me to stop?”
“Need you to stop talking,” she said. Momma stayed grim and tight, but she didn’t lose it. Then about a mile later, Momma said, “Stop there.”
She went in the bathroom at a filling station. She was gone a good fifteen minutes.
Willett said, “I’m worried about her.”
I said, “I’m worried about her and those guys knowing where we live.”
“She aint doing too good, is she?” Willett whispered, “She looks like she might jump out of her skin.”
“How would she do that?” Nicolette said, looking scared the first time all day. “How would she jump out of her skin?”
I said, “She aint gonna jump out of her skin,” pounding Willett hard on the ball of his shoulder. I said, “Don’t say stupid shit like that in front of her. It don’t help.”
Momma came back to the car, wiping her mouth, and we went on to the trailer.
* * *
OUR TRAILER set in a quiet park with a creek run through it outside Kingsport. Willow trees stood waiting for kids to chase in and out amongst the whips of their branches. There were trees stout enough for tire swings and plenty of room between the trailers, like you wouldn’t see nobody do now. Now everything is stacked tight, cracker boxes crammed on a shelf in a jammed-up dollar store.
We walked in the trailer to Groundhog lying on his side, barely on the sofa he was so huge, his shirt off and sweating, sucking his thumb, eyes opening and closing slow. The TV blared the bells and screams of a game show. Slobber ran down Groundhog’s wrist.
I said, “Get off my sofa, you nasty fuck.”
Momma said, “Where’s the bathroom?”
I said, “Take her, Willett. Watch her.”
Momma said, “God Amighty, Dawn.”
I said to the couch, “Get your fatshit ass out of my house.” Groundhog rolled over away from me. I slapped both hands on his arm to drag him off, but he was so sweatslick, I lost hold. I gouged my fingernails into him, rolled him off onto the carpet. Shook the whole trailer when he hit. Fu Manchu laughed from my kitchen. Everything in the refrigerator was out on the counter. Mustard splattered like paintball on the floor. Bread stacked up outside the bag seven slices high.
I said, “God Almighty.” So as not to cry I started kicking Groundhog. Fu Manchu laughed and shoved his mouth full of potato chips. I started stomping Groundhog. I said, “Get up.” He curled up like a ball.
“Get him out of here,” I said to Fu Manchu. When he didn’t do nothing, I said, “Don’t bother me to call the law, motherfucker. Get him up.”
Fu Manchu said, “Evie let us in. She had a key.”
I said, “What?”
Fu Manchu said, “We’re invited guests.”
I said, “I didn’t give Evie no key.”
Evie come up the hall. “Yeah you did,” she said. “You sure as hell did.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” I said. “Before I blow the hell out of all of you.”
Groundhog said, “I’d like you to blow the hell out of me.”
I pulled a piece of old shower curtain rod out from under Willett’s chair. I rared back to bust Groundhog over the head with it. Fu Manchu come up behind me and snatched the rod from my hand. He shoved me over top of Groundhog. I fell headfirst onto the sofa. I turned to get up but Fu Manchu shoved me back down. Groundhog got up. They stood over me, a stone wall of suck. Cool air come off Fu Manchu, like an open icebox. He drew the shower curtain rod back like he was gonna backhand me.
I started crying. I wasn’t scared of getting hit. I was grieving. Grieving for my lost house, my lost safe spot. I cried cause my baby’s private place, my quiet place, the peace place where me and Willett might be able to work things out was gone.
You
