Take My Hand(31)



“Come on now,” Mace said.

When India got back in the car, I saw that her eyes were red. She looked back at the mutt as we made our way down the hill. By the time we arrived at Dixie Court, the street was dark because there were no lamps. I slammed my door and it echoed in the street. Far off, a puppy yelped in response. India’s head turned toward the noise.

“Come on, come on.” Mace rushed up the stairs. All that talk about me not being Jesus and here he was acting like he had done it all.

I paused. It was time for me to go home. I wanted to stay, but Mace’s accusation rang in my ears, so I didn’t follow them up the stairs. Mace must have been looking for me, because he came right back down.

“Hey, lady. You better come on in here and help me with these girls. They might start crying or something. Then what I’m supposed to do.”

I called to him over my shoulder as I turned around. “Be their daddy, like you said. Tell the girls I’ll see them for their next appointment.” It was all I could do to get those words out of my mouth. In my car, I sat for a moment looking up at the apartment window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the girls’ profiles through the sheers. I wanted to see their first smiles, to know if they liked what we’d done with the place. It had pained me to decline his invitation.

But I couldn’t make out anything, and I realized I was in darkness. A breeze fluttered through the open car window and the bark of the pup droned on and on.





SEVENTEEN





Before I knew it, the time had come for me to pick up the girls for their next Depo shot. This time, I was supposed to take them into the clinic for pelvic exams. But I thought my head was about to bust wide open: I could not give either of them that shot again. Alicia had convinced me there was no way we could switch all the patients to pills. It was a supply issue. Mrs. Seager kept track of the inventory.

They’d been in their new apartment for over a month, and I hadn’t seen them since the night I dropped them off. Evidence of newly arrived families littered the grounds. A deflated basketball in the grass. A fading hopscotch map on the sidewalk. A man’s white drawers hanging on the clothesline between buildings. As I walked up the stairs to their apartment, I noticed that someone had swept the entry clean since I had been there last. Before I could knock, India opened the door and put her arms around my waist.

“Hey, girl.” I kissed the top of her head and stepped inside. Erica emerged from the hallway, carrying a black patent leather purse, its strap tied on with a safety pin. The living room was starting to look lived in. Someone had folded a faded orange throw across the back of the couch. Baby’s breath sprayed from a drinking glass on the painted end table next to the sofa.

“Come see our room.”

I bet no one had told them that I’d helped decorate. Selfishly, I wanted credit for it. Mace might have been right about me after all. India held on to my hand. When I’d left there had only been a bed and a dresser. Now there was a poster of Diana Ross on the wall. The singer was wrapped in a black fur and wore a big smile on her face.

“Look at this,” Erica said, straightening the covers on the bed.

“What you doing?”

“I’m making the bed.” She looked pleased with herself.

“It looks real nice.”

On the dresser, they had placed a brush and a jar of Royal Crown hair dressing. The only thing I was thinking they still needed was a lamp. The overhead light was dim, and I could barely see myself in the dresser mirror.

“So you took the bed by the window?”

“Yeah. India don’t like the sound of the cars and the people talking. We ain’t never heard so much noise at night before.”

Their bedroom faced the street. I could see the rental office a few hundred yards away.

“And guess what.”

I turned back around. “What?”

“India started bleeding.” Erica looked over at her sister, pride written in her face.

“What? When?” I could barely think. The birth control meant something different now. It was no longer inappropriate medicine dispensed to a prepubescent minor. It was now guarding against something real. And I knew that only too well. I looked at India. Surely she didn’t have an interest in boys. At least, I’d never seen a sign of any kind of interest.

Before Erica could answer, Mrs. Williams entered the room, wiping her hands on a towel tucked into the waistband of her dress. “How you doing, Miss Civil?”

“Fine, you?” I tore my eyes away from the girls.

“I can’t complain.”

“Here.” I held out a brown paper sack to Mrs. Williams.

“What’s this?”

“A gift from my mama.”

She drew the white leather Bible out of the bag.

“Ooh, look at this.”

“She said it’s for your living room. And right here”—I pointed to the gold lettering on the front—“it says ‘Williams Family.’?”

The grandmother’s eyes grew wet. India pulled at the book, trying to see it. I would need to bring more sanitary napkins. I’d have to show her how to use them.

“My big mama had a Bible like this. I remember some of the passages she used to read. I can recite them to you as if I read it with my own two eyes.” She said it without the complicated defensiveness her son had displayed. Mrs. Williams’s mother had been literate, and she was proud of it.

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