Bliss (25 page)

“Evey. Baby.”

“Hmm?” Still on the floor, twirling the knob from station to station, Eva heard her mother come in the back door.

“I’m here, but Mommy’s gotta go.” Eva’s mother’s name was Elaine, and at thirty-one, in this new town, she’d stopped introducing herself as Lanie.

“Where to?” Eva asked absently. “I’m going?” She didn’t want to miss another chance at the Emotions.

“Mommy’s gonna be gone for a lil’ while.” Elaine sounded stressed, but that was standard.

So Eva paid her no attention.

“A little
while
, Evey It’s bad. Mommy’s packing a bag.”

“Why?” The word was a placeholder.

“I told you. Evey.” Elaine stood in the door between the bedroom and the living room. She’d been crying for weeks, and had cried right before she came back to the bungalow. Elaine had imagined this scene a hundred times—how seeing Eva would confuse her, how grueling it would be to stay on course for departure. Eva seemed unnaturally vivid to Elaine—hair black as soot, red shirt too tight and wanting to burst into flames. The music was erratic and ghostly, and Eva’s fine future emanated from her in a glow. All this was excruciating. But Elaine was braced, and had been coached by her new man. Elaine wore justification and fatigue over her eyes like shades. “You know you’re my baby girl, right? My smart pretty lady.”

“Yeah.” Eva was intent on the stereo.

Elaine made her teary voice playful. “Play Mommy her songs, then.”

Eva sighed, irritated. “Mom, I’m trying to—”

“Play me some Temptations, Evey. I know you have them on one of those tapes. ‘My Girl,’ or something. Nothing from after they kicked Ruffin out. Play it for me while I’m packing.”

“I don’t have ‘My Girl.’ “Eva did, but she hated it. Radio still played it relentlessly, and she was sick of it. “I have that rain song.”

“Play that, then,” Elaine said, her smile strong and fake. “And come talk to me.”

Eva went through her orderly Tupperware bin of tapes and found MOM’S FAVES VOL. 1. She slipped the unfinished 1977 compilation from the player, put her mom’s in, fast-forwarded to “I Wish It Would Rain,” pressed PLAY, and carried her cassette player by its handle into the bedroom. The closet was torn through.

“What are you doing?” Eva had sensed a building-up, but thought, when she thought about it, that the buildup was toward another
move for the three of them, like usual. But this wasn’t how a move usually went down. “What are you looking for?”

“I had to get my stuff, Evey.”

Eva stood there with the chunky player dangling from her hand. Her mother’s voice—
Sad?
Eva thought.
Mad?
—seemed to be holding a lot of things. Elaine was placing folded clothes in a green army duffel Eva’d never seen before, but even moving slowly and precisely, she seemed hysterical. Eva didn’t know enough to sense guilt and vacillation. “So I’ll get my stuff,” Eva said, not moving, still clutching the tape player, and hearing raindrops and seamless harmonies and thinking that she was already away from the radio now, anyway, so she wouldn’t be getting the Emotions. Eva began to twist the tape player nervously. The music playing was distorted. “For how many days?” Eva said. She accidentally bit a hole inside her bottom lip and almost yelped. “How many underwears?” Eva was shaking.

“Underwear. Mommy’s gonna give you this note for your dad,” Elaine said. “For when he comes home.”

“Where will you be?” Eva saw her mom leaving. Eva realized this was no like-usual, Mom’s-mad, overnight trip. But Eva couldn’t comprehend that her mother would leave for a long time, without saying where, and without taking her. Tears started down Eva’s cheeks.

“Evey, Mommy’s sorry.” Elaine was struggling, but she’d added everything up—hatred of her husband, a hard-core and hopeless puzzlement about herself, a skewed, bitter respect for her husband, and a chance to be with a daring man who oiled her hard feet and encouraged her coldnesses. Eva, Elaine told herself, would be better off without a mother who always needed a new man who looked at her with fresh eyes. She knew it was cowardly and that it was the path of least resistance, but still to leave, and to return when Eva was old enough to listen to an explanation and an apology with a woman’s ears—it was what had to be done, Elaine felt, or she might damage Eva, or physically hurt Ned, or herself.

Eva was abruptly tired of “Evey,” and she wished, for a reason she couldn’t put her finger on, that her mother would say “I,” instead of “Mommy.”

“How are you getting there?” Eva, in her father’s manner, went
straight to logistics as things became incomprehensible. “Dad’s got the car.” Eva heard Foreigner on the radio from the living room.
You’re as cold as ice/Willing to sacrifice my love
.

The radio’s off. The song’s in my head
. Eva couldn’t hear her mother’s rain song anymore.

“Mom!” Eva screeched it.

“Evey.” The word was half of a whisper.

“I thought you
wanted to hear the Temptations
.”

Elaine moved into the living room, crammed duffel bag dragging. She looked around, and then went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. It let out a gasp of ripe cantaloupe and spoiling milk. “There’s lots in here.” Elaine was blinking and blinking. She wouldn’t look at Eva, who was standing by the stereo. The rain song had faded into the raucousness of “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg.”

Eva couldn’t hear it, because her mind was clicking.
There’s a song for everything. “Go Your Own Way” by Fleetwood Mac, “Just a Song Before I Go” by whoever, I can’t remember, “Don’t Leave Me This Way” by Thelma Houston, “The First Cut Is the Deepest” by Rod Stewart, “Say You’ll Stay Until Tomorrow” by Tom Jones, “She’s Not There” by Santana. There is a song that describes every single thing. They’re in my head. I could make a tape I could make a tape
.

“When are you coming home!” Eva was demanding now. “What am I going to say when Dad asks!”

“Evey, Mommy’s gonna go.” Elaine walked to the door and took a quick look around. But she had all she was taking.

“Take the Tempts, Mom. It’s a lot of good songs on here other than the rain song. ‘My Girl’ is on here.”

“Mommy just needs a break, baby. You keep your tape. You keep it for me.” She touched Eva’s wrist, tugged her bracelets, and Eva hated her.

A break from me?
“Elaine!” Eva was frantic. She tasted blood in her mouth. “What day are you coming back!”

Elaine looked at her daughter and told her the truth. “Soon as I can, Evey. Might be a little while, though. You’re gonna be good. Such a good girl. I’ll come back as soon as it’s okay.”

What’s changed
. That’s what Eva wanted to know.
I’m here on some weird island, but what’s changed?

She heard Benjamin’s car start and the radio.

You make my heart beat
.

You make me feel so real
.

Eva thought she heard Dart trudge in right before she fell asleep.

E
va woke to the odor of sweating onion. She’d no idea where she was. In her next breath, she took in Dart’s musky spoiled apricot smell and her stomach flipped with nausea and hunger.

Dart. Cat Island. Out Islands. Pregnant. Dart. Édouard and Benjamin. No Sun. Ron
.

She resisted the impulse to go knock on Benjamin’s door, ask if dinner was coming now.

This is not a hotel
. Eva got up, grabbed her cell, walked outside, and dialed Ron’s number. It was night.

He answered the phone, puffing. “You better had called.”

“I better had? For what?” Eva almost smiled a tight smile.

“Where are you?”

“What’re you all doing in Miami?”

“Living,” he said. “Handling business.”

“Stay out of Sun’s head.”

“If you were here, you wouldn’t have to worry about all that. If you were smart, you’d let me think you had everything under control. But you’re not smart right now.” He paused, but Eva didn’t say anything. “Why you dial my number then? Need rescue from the crazy house? Where’d Sun say you were … Out Island? What the fuck is that? Rehab? For your boy?”

He’s not on drugs. He’s off them
. “What’s Piper doing?”

“Up under Sunny. Why do you worry about stupid shit? Sun wants you. She needs you to run point for her. You got her on lock, yet you’re holed up with homeboy like your life’s over because you’re pregnant.”

“Stop saying that!” The thought of anyone from her real life knowing about her pregnancy and making chess moves based on
what Eva felt was a chink in her armor made her panicky. “Who’re you standing by?”

“Calm down. Get to Miami. I brought your shit.”

“What?” This wasn’t something Eva expected.

“It was handled. Lost City packed you up. You were checked out. Your stuff’s here.”

So happy about his gesture, she acted the exact opposite. “What if I needed my things?”

“What if you said, ‘Thank you, Ron. Thank you for thinking of my runaway ass.’ ”

“I barely brought anything over here.”
What if you said, I’m coming to get you, Eva. Coming to read your mind and do everything that will make you happy
.

“Your stuff’s in the hotel lockup. Here. So you need to ask yourself what that means for your plans. Have you taken care of what you’re so anxious to take care of?”

Eva was silent.

Ron said hotly, “Hello?”

“No.”

“Have you told the father? Have you asked the father?”

“I’m not talking about the father.”

“I know you know who he is.”

She was silent.

“Stop,” he said, “with the quiet shit.”

“I’m getting off the phone.”

“It isn’t me, Eva.”

She was silent.

“Confirm that,” Ron said. “Before you get off the phone. Confirm it.”

She pictured his paw around his cell. Big, dull fingers, nails round and flat as nickels.

“Playing bullshit games,” he said. “I hope your ass finds a life over there. I’m done.” And hung up his phone.

E
va stood there, phone in hand. She felt a presence, flinched. A small woman was behind her. “Have some tuna and some grits for you,” the woman said. Her voice was keen as Édouard’s apple blade. Her skin as creamy brown as ganache.

“You’re Audrey?”
Tuna and grits? Together?

“
M’rele
Audrey,” she said, squinting in the moonlight. “Wife of Benjamin. Sister of Édouard. You, Eva, have met everyone but me.”

I guess
. “Thanks for the food.” She opened the door to the house. “Dart’s asleep.”

“He should be hungry, too, after that swim.” Audrey slid two broad tins on the table. Her eyes were heartbroken and mean. Her earlobes dangled in halves. Audrey was younger than Eva by three years and looked ten years older. “I have dessert. Later. Everything you need.”

“You saw him.”

“All of him. No towel ’round himself walking to the house. I laughed.”

Laughed at what? And if you did, why are you telling me? Rude
. “Your husband said he’d help us find a car,” Eva said. “So we could find a real place to stay for tomorrow. We’ll be out of your hair.”

“My hair is fine. You have money?”

“Yeah,” Eva said easily.

Audrey’s head sat back on her neck. “Then this a real place to stay.” Her eyes went colder than they were to begin with, but Eva was looking at Audrey’s hands as she peeled foil back from the tins, then at chunks of fish in there with cooked-down tomato and green pepper. Eva wanted to grab it with her fingers, steaming grits and all. Wanted to tell somebody she was pregnant, and that whether it had to do with the baby or not, she was so hungry, she was light-headed.

“You can go to the store in the morning,” Audrey continued tersely, “so you have snacks in the box. You can eat supper at our house tomorrow.”

Eva was surprised at the invitation. “That’s all right?”
Leave please, so I can eat
.

“You have money, it’s okay with me.” Audrey stood in the doorway. “So it will be okay with Benjamin. What the Rowes don’t know doesn’t hurt them. They come in the summer months, when it’s so hot they
melt. Sit inside all day, with the fans. All the way here from … Pennsylvania for what.”