Divine (5 page)

"It's okay, Mary. Come on, wake up." She looked like she was trying to smile, but her expression was painful. "We're leaving."

Mary felt a rush of fear. "No, Mama. Grandma doesn't want us to leave."

"We'll come back." Her mother's answer was quick. "I promise. Mama just has to get some things figured out first."

"But can't we—?"

"Now, Mary!" Her mother's tone said she was in a hurry and also a little frightened. "We belong together, you and me. You're coming whether you want to or not."

That had been the end of the discussion. Mary got dressed, and in just a few minutes she left with her mother. She never had a chance to grab her pink teddy bear or tell her grandma good-bye. In fact, she had time to take just one thing.

The little red-beaded purse.

Mary thought about stopping there, saving the rest of the story for other sessions, but Emma was waiting, wide-eyed. Mary stood and filled their water cups. As she did, a silent prayer filtered through her soul.
God, should I keep going? Would it make things worse for Emma to hear the next part?

This time there was no audible answer, no quiet resounding in her heart. But something came to mind all the same. Emma needed the truth. If she was ever going to be set free, she needed all the truth she could get. As long as she was willing to listen, Mary should be willing to tell her story.

And she was.

Mary handed one of the water cups to Emma. "Should I continue?"

"Yes." Emma slid to the edge of her seat. "Where did the two of you go? After you left your Grandma Peggy's house?"

"I remember the other details like they happened yesterday, but I'm not sure where we went. Somewhere on the streets of New York." Mary took a swallow of water. She'd been so young at the time. Her whole life would've been different if only her mother had let her stay with Grandma Peggy.

She set her cup down and looked at Emma. "Right away my mother quit taking drugs, and after a few days the two of us moved in with a couple—Jimbo and Lou."

Emma set her cup on the floor near her feet. She never broke eye contact. "They're the ones? The people the news talked about?"

"Yes." Mary squinted against the glare of the past. "I remember one day in particular. About two weeks after we'd visited Grandma Peggy's house."

***

Mary's mother had her by the hand, and the two of them were walking along one of the lesser traveled streets in Lower Manhattan, somewhere her mother called the Diamond District. Her mother was more talkative than usual.

"We'll be fine, you and I." She gave Mary's hand a squeeze. "You smile real nice and we'll pull in thirty, forty dollars an hour today. That'll be enough for pizza and a carton of milk."

"Pizza?" Mary was still sad about leaving Grandma Peggy. But it was nice seeing her mommy's eyes look normal. Not wide and nervous and red around the edges the way they were when she was taking drugs.

"Yes, pizza!" Her mama smiled at her. They walked the rest of the block without talking. Then her mother said, "Grandma doesn't think
I can make it on my own, right?"

Mary didn't know what to say. She couldn't take sides. Yes, she wanted to be home with Grandma Peggy, but her mama needed her too. Mary shaded her eyes so she could see her better. "Grandma loves you. She wanted us to stay."

Her mother looked at the sidewalk for a few steps. Then in a quieter voice she said, "Maybe someday. When I pay off my debt."

"Debt?" Whatever a debt was it made her mama's shoulders slump. Mary felt nervous about that.

Her mother seemed to study the people in front of them. "I owe Jimbo some money. When I pay it off, maybe I can save up some cash and the two of us can stay with Grandma." She looked at Mary. "I won't do it if I can't pay my way." She paused. "Understand?"

Mary thought about that. Her mother had taught her it was wrong to steal, that people who stole were as bad as people who killed. Maybe if she didn't pay Grandma Peggy it would be sort of like stealing. She nodded. "I understand."

Her mama made a quick turn. "Tell me if you see the cops, okay?"

"Yes, Mama." That was Mary's job. They would find somewhere with people coming and going, and they'd make the people feel sorry for them. That's when the people would pull out money and hand it to her mother. The whole time Mary had to look for police, because police didn't like people asking strangers for money. That was something Mary didn't understand. But there were something called an arrest warrant on her mother for drug charges. Her mama always said she couldn't afford to be questioned by police.

They found a spot outside a diner, and for more than an hour her mother told people she was in trouble, that her wallet had been stolen.

It was getting dark when Mary finally said, "Mommy, can we go? I'm tired."

A couple with nice clothes was coming. Her mother smiled and squeezed her hand. "In a minute, honey." The couple spotted them and slowed their pace. Her mama took a step in their direction. "Excuse me, folks. My wallet was stolen." She looked at Mary for a long time. The longer her mama stared her sad eyes at her, the longer the people would do the same thing. And the more money they'd get.

The woman stopped, her face knotted with concern. "That's awful."

Her mother gave the woman the same look she gave every stranger she talked to. Like this was the saddest day of her life. "My husband left us." She raised her shoulders. "I think maybe if we got a little bit of help we might get back on our feet."

The woman had her pocketbook open before Mary's mother finished her sentence. The woman's husband nodded as the woman pulled out two twenties. "Here. Get a cab and a good dinner. Then get home before something worse happens."

Her mama took the money, and her eyes lit up with gratitude. "Thank you." She smiled at Mary. "These nice people helped us. Isn't that wonderful?"

Mary knew her role. She nodded, though her expression felt blank and hesitant. She blinked at the couple. "Thank you, ma'am . . . sir."

"You're welcome, sweetie. Now get home." She patted Mary's head. "The street's no place for a pretty little girl like you."

It was the same every time. The way it looked to Mary, sometimes the people gave everything they had. Always they did two things. First, they commented on how beautiful Mary was. Never her mother, though she'd been very pretty before the drugs. Mary had seen pictures. But everyone talked about Mary. "My goodness, child, I've never seen eyes like yours." Or to her mother, "Take good care of her—she's a rare little beauty." Something like that.

And second, they'd assume Mary and her mother had a home, somewhere to go back to. As if the biggest problem facing them really was a stolen wallet.

As the couple walked off that late afternoon, her mama chuckled. "Good work, Mary." She slipped the twenties into her back pocket. "We can call it quits for the day."

"How much did we make?"

Her mother took a handful of bills from her pocket and looked at it for a minute. "Two hundred twenty." She beamed at Mary. "If we keep this up, maybe we can get back to Grandma's house in a few weeks."

Mary had been so excited about that news that she twirled around and giggled and took her mother's hand. "That's the best news of the day!"

Her mother laughed—something she rarely did. "Mayb
e
it is."

She led Mary to a diner, and people stared at them as they walked inside. People were always staring at them. Her mama told her it was because they were both so pretty. But the looks people gave them weren't always nice. Mary thought maybe it had more to do with their torn, dirty clothes and the fact that they asked for money.

Her mama stopped a few feet from the counter. "We have to hurry, okay? Jimbo doesn't like it when we're late." She smiled, but fear shone in her eyes. "Jimbo's not very nice to Mama when we make him mad."

Her mother was right. Jimbo could get mean in a hurry. But her mama said Jimbo wasn't all bad. He had bushy red hair and one gold tooth, a tooth that was easy to see because the man smiled all the time. Especially when he looked at Mary. A shiver ran down her arms. "Okay, I'll hurry."

They looked up at the counter, and her mother frowned. Mary thought she understood why. The place wasn't really a diner. More of a tobacco store with a counter display of rotating sausages. The smell of thick grease fought with the smell of cigars. For a minute, Mary thought her mother might take her somewhere else. But they didn't have time.

Her mama breathed out hard in the direction of the man at the cash register. "Where's the diner?"

The man snickered and adjusted a gold chain around his neck. "Got you in here, didn't it, doll?"

Her mother blew at a wisp of her bangs and reached for one of the twenties in her pocket. As she did, she grumbled in a quiet voice, "Why do I stay in this city? All crowded and dirty and full of places like this. It's enough to drive you back to drugs."

Mary must've reacted with alarm at that statement.

Her mama caught her eye as she pulled a bill out. "Don't worry, Mary." She gave a weak laugh. "Sober is sober is sober. Period. I'm just kidding." She looked at the money in her hand. "When I pay off Jimbo, you and me and Grandma will all move to the country."

Mary didn't say anything, but inside she felt relieved. In fact, she felt like twirling again.

"Listen, lady, you're wasting my time," the man behind the counter grouched. "You got an order, or what?"

Her mother put her hands on her hips and stared at the sausage display. "Not much of a choice."

The man was losing his patience. "Here're the choices, lady—cheesy sausage or spicy sausage. Take your pick."

Mary tugged on her mother's shirt. "Mommy?"

"What, honey?" She ran her hand over Mary's bangs.

"Cheesy, okay?" Her voice was small, but it was also certain. Mary knew her mind,- she always had.

Her mother looked up at the man. "My girl wants the cheesy kind."

"Fine." The man tapped the display with a pair of bent-up silver tongs. "Cheesy sausage coming up."

Mary expected it would be served in a bun, but it wasn't. The man simply tossed a yellowish sausage—one with plastic-looking cheese leaking out the sides—into a little cardboard dish.

Her mother brushed her knuckles against it. "It's cold." She shook her head and laid a twenty on the counter. "You rip people off, buddy, know that?"

The man gave her an exaggerated shrug. "Everybody rips off everybody, lady. You too."

Her mother looked like she was about to say something in reply, but she must've changed her mind. Maybe she was thinking about the wallet story and that possibly the guy had a point. Either way, she led Mary to a small table and sat across from her. There was a layer of sticky grease on the Formica finish. "Well, this is dinner." The corners of her mouth lifted some. "Sorry it's not better."

"Thank you, Mama." Mary sniffed the cheesy sausage and wrinkled her nose. "It smells like cat food."

"It's fine, baby." Her mother nudged her arm. "Go ahead and eat it."

Mary waited. "Can I pray?"

"Pray?" Her mother's mouth hung open for a few seconds. "You mean like Grandma does?"

"Mmm-hmm."

Her mama looked frustrated, but she nodded. "Sure, go ahead."

Mary bowed her head and folded her hands. "Dear Jesus, it's Mary. Thanks for the food. I love You, and—" she opened one eye and looked at her mother—"Mama loves you too." She paused. "Right?"

"Right." Mama looked at her watch. "You
need to start eating." She drew a slow breath. "Honey, tonight Mama's going to need more work than what we get from strangers."

Mary felt a little sick to her stomach. "Night work, you mean?" Night work was when her mother dressed in short skirts and high heels and went away for the night with a man. She wasn't sure what went on with the men, but her mother was always quiet and sometimes angry when she came home. Plus Mary had to spend time alone with Jimbo and his wife, and nothing about that felt safe.

"Yes, night work." Her mother leaned her elbows on the table and looked into her eyes. "It'll help us get back to Grandma faster."

Mary tried not to think about that. She chewed her first bite, but she felt her face scrunch up the way it sometimes did before she started to cry. She reached into her sweatshirt pocket and put her fingers around the little red purse, felt the tiny beads and the buttoned clasp.

Her mama looked at her. "What do you have?"

"The purse Grandma gave me." She held it up. She'd carried it with her every day since leaving Grandma Peggy's house. The purse felt good in her hands, better than thinking about her mother's night work. "It makes me feel happy when I look at it."

No more questions came from her mother.

Mary hurried and finished the cheesy sausage,- then the two of them went back to Jimbo's apartment.

"You're late!" Jimbo towered near the front door as they walked in.

His wife, Lou, took hold of his elbow. "Ah, give the girls a chance." She pulled him away so Mary and her mother could walk past.