complaining about being broke. Now I want nothing more than to ditch all of this money and the strings attached to it and go back to my old life.
“I’m going to go find my dad,” Ariel says in a low voice.
My eyes fly open.
“Why?” I know it’s a stupid question before it leaves my lips, but I seem to have no control over my own tongue.
“Are you serious?” She adds socks and a pair of jeans to her suitcase.
“Okay. I totally get why. But how, then? Where are you even going to start? Far as I know, she never told anybody who he was.”
Ariel picks up the diary, dropping it into my lap. “Everybody she had sex with the year before I was born, all detailed there. Nobody could ever accuse her of being a prude.”
The diary seems to burn into my skin. I shiver, the rest of me cold in comparison. “So she mentions a few names . . .”
“Six. Six names over the course of a month. And she had no love for any of them, either. Not so much as a good strong crush.”
“She was sixteen. She was your mother. You shouldn’t talk about her like that.”
Ariel whirls on me, hands on hips. “She set herself a challenge to see how many guys she could bag over the summer. That’s where I came from. How do you think that feels?”
“Sucks.” I’m wishing I had a drink. A very stiff one. “I’m not sure knowing which guy it was will make you feel any better.”
Ariel shrugs. “I want to find out about the other side of me.”
“Callie didn’t want anybody to know.”
“But why?”
“She didn’t want to share you with anybody. We tried to get her to tell us so she could get child support. But she wouldn’t do it. Said she figured you were better off without a dad.”
“Why would she even think that?”
“Your grandpa was an alcoholic. He said some things . . .”
He wasn’t the only one who said things. I said plenty. And the thing about words is that once they’re spoken, you can’t ever really call them back.
It’s been two months since Callie had her baby, and the added expense has swamped our precarious finances. I’m sitting at the kitchen table with a calculator and a stack of bills, trying to make two and two add up to five. Callie’s fixing a bottle for Ariel. You’d think the baby was starving to death from the sounds of her, instead of chubby and pink and obviously thriving.
“Here, let me hold her.” I need a break anyway. My head aches and my right eye has developed a twitch.
She hands me the baby and I snuggle her against my heart, pressing my cheek against her downy head and making the soothing little noises I didn’t know I was capable of before Callie brought Ariel home.
“Almost out,” Callie says, shaking the formula can. “We’ll need more tomorrow.”
All of my softness fades away. “I thought WIC paid for formula.”
“Not enough to make it through the whole month. I called and asked for more. They said I should remember it’s a supplemental program, not a free ride.” Her voice takes on a sarcastic edge over the last words.
She tests a little formula on her wrist for temperature and reaches out her arms for Ariel.
My body has gone cold. “There’s no money, Callie. What about food stamps?”
“All gone. You’ll have to let one of the other bills ride this month.” She takes Ariel from me and sticks the nipple into her mouth. The wailing stops at once, replaced by contented little gulping noises. Callie’s face goes all dreamy. She looks almost like a different person when she’s holding the baby. More like those pictures of Madonna and child, less like a willful teenager.
I watch them, feeling cold and helpless and lost. I’ve already moved money around as much as I dare. The mortgage is covered. I’ve paid half the electric bill and skipped the phone. There are enough groceries in the cupboard to eke out basic meals until my next payday. We’ve got a stash of diapers that Callie got free with a coupon.
But that’s it. I’ve
“I’m going to go find my dad,” Ariel says in a low voice.
My eyes fly open.
“Why?” I know it’s a stupid question before it leaves my lips, but I seem to have no control over my own tongue.
“Are you serious?” She adds socks and a pair of jeans to her suitcase.
“Okay. I totally get why. But how, then? Where are you even going to start? Far as I know, she never told anybody who he was.”
Ariel picks up the diary, dropping it into my lap. “Everybody she had sex with the year before I was born, all detailed there. Nobody could ever accuse her of being a prude.”
The diary seems to burn into my skin. I shiver, the rest of me cold in comparison. “So she mentions a few names . . .”
“Six. Six names over the course of a month. And she had no love for any of them, either. Not so much as a good strong crush.”
“She was sixteen. She was your mother. You shouldn’t talk about her like that.”
Ariel whirls on me, hands on hips. “She set herself a challenge to see how many guys she could bag over the summer. That’s where I came from. How do you think that feels?”
“Sucks.” I’m wishing I had a drink. A very stiff one. “I’m not sure knowing which guy it was will make you feel any better.”
Ariel shrugs. “I want to find out about the other side of me.”
“Callie didn’t want anybody to know.”
“But why?”
“She didn’t want to share you with anybody. We tried to get her to tell us so she could get child support. But she wouldn’t do it. Said she figured you were better off without a dad.”
“Why would she even think that?”
“Your grandpa was an alcoholic. He said some things . . .”
He wasn’t the only one who said things. I said plenty. And the thing about words is that once they’re spoken, you can’t ever really call them back.
It’s been two months since Callie had her baby, and the added expense has swamped our precarious finances. I’m sitting at the kitchen table with a calculator and a stack of bills, trying to make two and two add up to five. Callie’s fixing a bottle for Ariel. You’d think the baby was starving to death from the sounds of her, instead of chubby and pink and obviously thriving.
“Here, let me hold her.” I need a break anyway. My head aches and my right eye has developed a twitch.
She hands me the baby and I snuggle her against my heart, pressing my cheek against her downy head and making the soothing little noises I didn’t know I was capable of before Callie brought Ariel home.
“Almost out,” Callie says, shaking the formula can. “We’ll need more tomorrow.”
All of my softness fades away. “I thought WIC paid for formula.”
“Not enough to make it through the whole month. I called and asked for more. They said I should remember it’s a supplemental program, not a free ride.” Her voice takes on a sarcastic edge over the last words.
She tests a little formula on her wrist for temperature and reaches out her arms for Ariel.
My body has gone cold. “There’s no money, Callie. What about food stamps?”
“All gone. You’ll have to let one of the other bills ride this month.” She takes Ariel from me and sticks the nipple into her mouth. The wailing stops at once, replaced by contented little gulping noises. Callie’s face goes all dreamy. She looks almost like a different person when she’s holding the baby. More like those pictures of Madonna and child, less like a willful teenager.
I watch them, feeling cold and helpless and lost. I’ve already moved money around as much as I dare. The mortgage is covered. I’ve paid half the electric bill and skipped the phone. There are enough groceries in the cupboard to eke out basic meals until my next payday. We’ve got a stash of diapers that Callie got free with a coupon.
But that’s it. I’ve
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