Twenty Grand (16 page)

He looked up from the beer. “Now just a minute—” he said.

“Earl,” Mr. Williams said. “There are codes, regulations.” He covered his mouth, coughed.

“Well, my boat's up to code,” my stepfather said.

Mr. Williams looked at my stepfather. “We're not really asking,” he said. Then he looked at his watch.

My stepfather paid movers to pull it out of the water. He washed and waxed the hull. For two weeks he went down every night and worked on it. He cleaned the head and the sink and he polished the Bunsen burner and sewed up a few rips in the couch. Only once he came home and said, “But it doesn't make any sense.”

My mother stepped behind him and massaged both his shoulders. When she spoke she used the soft voice she used late at night when they were sitting together on the couch. “Earl,” she said. “You're not thinking rationally. You're not objective. Try to see the issue from the other side. The boat was going downhill. It was going to need repairs. It was junk.”

After a long time he looked at her and his chin lifted. “You're right,” he said.

He'd hoped to get two grand but was talked down to six hundred because of the dent. The day he sold it he said, “Well, I'm glad that's done. He was a nice guy. He wanted something his son could bang up and fart around in.” He paused. “Those were his words,” he said.

 

L
ATER THAT WEEK
he asked me about the earrings that Crystal had had on the night of the accident. The Williamses had looked through her effects and couldn't find them. Had I seen them?

I shook my head.

“Well,” he said. “I doubted you had. The Williamses think Dirk Drew slipped them in his pocket with the idea he could pawn them. Personally, I bet they just fell off.”

“They did,” I said.

“Okay,” he said.

He walked away and then stopped. “I think it's pretty gross,” he said. “The whole thing.”

 

T
HE WEEK
I left town, I rode my bike to the garage where my stepfather worked. He was in the shop under the chassis of a Ford, but when I called his name he crawled out and offered me coffee from the office pot. I'd passed through the office and seen the coffee and it was thick and burned, so I said no thanks. After a minute my stepfather said it was good to see me but that he should get back to work.

I said, “I'm sorry about the boat.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well.” He looked out the garage window and said he'd been thinking of selling it anyway. A boat was a lot of work. It took a lot of maintenance. He'd had to go down to the club once a month and use goggles and a snorkel to wax it, in order to really get under the hull, even in April when the water was cold. He felt relieved, he said, not to have to do that anymore. My mother, he said, was also glad. He'd have more time now to help out around the house. She deserved some help. She'd also, he added, been wanting to take some trips. So they were going to do that together. He was looking forward to it. His hands spread low at his sides. He made enough, he said. But maybe not enough for all the things my mother wanted to do. But he was going to work hard. He thought he could save up. He could put aside fifty a month. It might take a while. But he thought maybe at some point in the future he'd get another boat, more a racer, since this had been a cruiser and a racer was lighter and designed for speed.

I
WANTED THE
Sno-Kone Cart for my niece because besides being her aunt, I am also her godmother. If my sister and her husband died, I would be the mother. I think I would be a good mother to my niece. Every morning I would sing her a song. I would never spank her or call her stupid. I would hug her every fucking day, I would teach her good manners, and I would not let her do it until she was sixteen.

The Sno-Kone Cart costs eighteen dollars and ninety-five cents; this was more than fifty-five percent off, the flyer said, from the regular price of forty-five dollars. I could understand why the regular price was forty-five dollars. The flyer had a picture of the cart and a little girl was pushing it. The wheels were yellow, the sides were red, the plastic looked strong enough to travel over cement, and I knew the profit from the Sno-Kones would repay the cost of the cart.

When I was in school people called me retard. But my parents said I was just slow. I believed that until I read a letter my mother left on her desk that said, I'm sure there is a reason God gave me a retard. I asked my mother why she wrote that. She said it was a joke. Then I asked my sister why my mother wrote that. My sister said, Mom really loves you, but when she has a bad day she wishes you'd have heart failure. But you don't have retard face, and technically, you're not a retard. You're just slow. Then my sister said if I did all her chores for a year I'd get faster, and she was right. My reading improved. I learned to drive. When I turned twenty I got a great job. My parents said they were happy for me but that I would probably never get married, but now I live with Rick and we are the same as married. Rick is sixty but we are the same age at heart, which is something my parents will never understand. Rick is a bus driver. Rick has black-brown hair and takes Vivantum. He loves my skin because it's soft, and he loves everything else about me too. He says I can live with him until something better comes along. I said I would live with him forever and he said that only God knows what's forever and we are not God. He is teaching me higher math. Profit is what I was thinking about when I was reading the flyer. Profit and my niece, who I love so much it hurts my heart.

I never thought about her much when she was one. But one day when she was two my sister put her on the phone and her voice whispered, Hello Aunt Daphine. My heart went boom. Since then I've always thought of her. And I've always wanted to buy her a special gift, and the Sno-Kone Cart would be the gift.

I found eight dollars and ninety-five cents in my purse.

I knew my sister, who is a doctor, and her husband, who is also a doctor, could afford to buy the cart themselves. But I wanted the cart to be from me.

I need ten dollars, I told Rick.

What for? he said.

A Sno-Kone Cart, I said. I showed him the flyer. For Caitlin Bug, I said.

He looked at the flyer. He looked at the yellow wheels and the little blue awning to give shade to the operator and the cash drawer where the money would go.

Jesus Christ, he said.

Rick didn't want to buy it. He said, Babies don't need Sno-Kone Carts. So I told him how even though Caitlin Bug would not know how to sell the Sno-Kones, she would like the bright colors and she would like to eat the Sno-Kones, and how, in time, the cash drawer and the flavor packs would teach her about math, and how if we gave her the cart, she would know we loved her.

Fine, Rick said. All right.

He gave me ten dollars. Right away I called my sister.

I'd like to buy Caitlin Bug a Sno-Kone Cart, I said. Is that okay with you?

Sure, she said. Why wouldn't it be okay?

I'll never go behind your back, I said. I'll always check with you.

Okay, she said.

At the store I saw a warning on the box that said some parts were small and not safe for anyone under eight, but Rick said toys need small parts or else they aren't fun. Then he helped me carry the cart—it came in a huge box—to the register.

Forty-five dollars, the saleslady said.

I told her that the flier said the cart was on sale.

Well, it's not, the saleslady said.

It is, I said.

That's tomorrow, the saleslady said. It's a one-day-only sale.

Rick put down the box. Forget it, he said.

I looked at my watch. The time was almost nine o'clock. All around us the salespeople were laughing and closing their drawers for the night. On a shelf behind the saleslady were other special deals. One box had a baby flying inside a yellow helicopter. All I wanted was the Sno-Kone Cart.

Couldn't we have the sale price now? I said. Since it's almost tomorrow?

The machine won't let me, she said, and she pointed at the register as if to show me what she meant. The next day was Monday and I had to work. While I was at work, I knew, all the Sno-Kone Carts would be bought by people who were not at work.

Rick squeezed my shoulder. Let's go home and do it, he said.

The saleslady's mouth opened. Then she moved her glasses on her nose.

Tell you what, she said. I'll hold the cart for you. I'll write your name on the box and hold it back here. You can come get it tomorrow. Come anytime before we close.

Thanks, I said. Thanks so much—and I watched while she wrote my name, Daphine, on the box, and put the box next to the helicopter.

 

T
HE NEXT DAY
after work I drove back to the store. I waited at the desk for my turn but when my turn came, the saleslady was a different lady.

The carts are gone, this saleslady said. The only one left is fucked.

I told the lady how I had come the night before and how my cart was being held for me.

She shook her head. They're all gone, she said. Gone, or fucked.

The lady wrote my name on the box, I said. She put it in that corner. I pointed at the corner.

She looked up. Are you Daphine? she said.

Yes, I said. I am Daphine.

A man came and bought that cart, the saleslady said. He said he was Daphine.

Well he wasn't, I said. I'm Daphine.

Then he snaked you, the saleslady said.

I thought I might cry. Everything seemed complicated. But then I saw the man, the one who took my cart, in my head. He was ugly. He'd taken the bus because he had no car. His babies were at home. The babies ate beans and hot dogs all the time. They were three, four, and five, and had always wanted a Sno-Kone Cart.

Maybe he was poor and ugly, I said. And his babies really wanted the cart.

He bought two, the saleslady said.

I thought this over. Look, I said, why'd you give mine to him? Why didn't you check his I.D. so you could see if he was really Daphine?

The saleslady shrugged. I might've, she said. If I'd known he wasn't Daphine.

I stood there.

Fine, the saleslady said. I'll give you a rain check.

Once I got the rain check I left the store. I looked at every man in the lot to see if they had my cart, but they didn't.

I called my sister when I got home.

I got a rain check, I said.

What are you talking about? she said.

The Sno-Kone Cart, I said.

Oh, she said.

Don't worry, I said. I'm still getting it.

I'm sure Caitlin Bug will like it, my sister said. Won't you, Caitlin Bug?

I heard Caitlin Bug near the phone. More D! she said. More D!

That's sweet, I said.

I can talk in ten minutes, my sister said. I need you to wait on the phone.

What's “D”? I said.

She's hungry, my sister said.

Oh, I said. Then I heard snick, snick, snick.

I guessed my sister called it “D” because her boobs had grown to Ds. My boobs are Cs so I guessed my baby, if I ever had one, would say, More “C.” Although I knew I wouldn't have one because when I was sixteen, I messed up and my tubes got thrown away. I was in sixth grade and I was doing it with a guy I liked. He was fifteen and in tenth grade. We did it in my backyard where I thought my parents wouldn't see. A week later my parents said they knew I was doing it. Later, in the hospital, I said I wanted to untie my tubes and my parents said my tubes had holes and that the doctor had to throw them away. I acted stupid and didn't talk to anyone for three days. My sister came to visit me and brought a yellow flower. She gave me the flower. I felt so freaking happy when I looked at it. She said that if she ever had a baby, which she wouldn't because there were already too many babies in the world, we could share. I knew she didn't mean it. But ever since Caitlin Bug said, “Hello, Aunt Daphine,” I have loved Caitlin Bug.

Rick says Caitlin Bug will grow up a freak because she is still being nursed even though she is three and has every freaking toy in the world, all piled in boxes because there are so goddamn many, and she cries if she has to drink from a blue sippy cup, not a red one, on a night when she wants a red one. But he doesn't know her very well because he only met her once. He was invited to my sister's house for dinner. It was the first time he'd been allowed to come. During dinner Caitlin Bug was eating butter from the butter dish and Rick said softly, Don't eat butter. Caitlin Bug stood on her chair with the blob on her pinkie, and a finger-mark in the butter where her pinkie had been, and she looked at Rick and she screamed. My sister put down her fork. Then she said, Why did you say that?

Rick said, Say what?

My sister said, You told her not to eat butter.

And Rick said, So what?

And my sister said, Don't say that again.

Rick said, All right. Then his finger shot out and went in the butter and scooped a blob and put it in his mouth. Then his finger did it again. My sister said, Stop doing that, and he said, Stop what? and she said, Out. When we got home Rick said, Fuck her. Let's do it.

I used to go over to my sister's all the time. Now she's busy a lot so I call my sister on the phone because Rick says a phone call is no big deal, and if she doesn't like it she can suck his hose. Sometimes when I call she has to take a nap or do a thing and she tells me to wait. So I had called her to tell her about the rain check and I was waiting and I heard snick, snick, snick. I said, Do you think I'm okay as a godmother?

Sure, my sister said.

I want to be a good godmother, I said.

My sister didn't say anything. Then she said, Actually, you're not the only godmother.

I'm not? I said.

No, she said.

How many are there? I said.

Eight, she said. She listed them. They were her friends, two sisters-in-law, a cousin, her UPS guy, and her therapist.

Well, I said, who would get her if you die?

If I die? my sister said.

You won't, I said. But if you did, which godmother would be in charge?

Not you, my sister said.

Oh, I said.

You don't have experience, my sister said. Plus Caitlin Bug doesn't like you.

Maybe I could babysit some time, I said.

I'd love for you to babysit once she's older, my sister said. When she's seven she'll be used to strangers, and then we'd love to have you babysit.

My sister said, I have to go.

 

I
TOLD
R
ICK
we were not the only godmother. I told him that really, we were hardly anything at all. Rick said some mean things about Caitlin Bug and then about babies in general. Then he said, Who cares? I love you very fucking much. You know that, right?

 

T
WELVE WEEKS LATER
,
a letter came saying my Sno-Kone Cart had arrived. By then I had forgotten about the cart. I had had a bad week at my great job. Some of the other stockers got fired. The manager told the rest of us we better stock fast because they might fire us too so they could hire some high schoolers who would work for minimum, but that they hadn't fired us yet because they needed us to train the high schoolers. I was worried because I needed the job. But I drove to the store and bought the Sno-Kone Cart because I didn't want to get snaked. Also I was excited. I couldn't believe I was getting the cart, and bought ten extra tubes of syrup, just in case she ever ran out. When I got home I put them in the box with the cart and I wrapped the box in Christmas paper. I wrote, To Caitlin Bug, from Daphine, your number Eight Godmother, on a piece of paper, and taped the paper to the box.

I called my sister.

She blew some air in the phone. We need to talk, she said. Then she said she didn't want Caitlin Bug to have the cart. I thought she meant because Caitlin Bug has so many toys. I said, What's one more toy? My sister said she didn't want me to spend my money on Caitlin Bug. I said I wanted to, and if not on Caitlin Bug then who?

Yourself, she said.

I told her I would rather spend it on Caitlin Bug.

You're generous and kind, she said. Then she told me she was taking back my godmotherhood. She said I wasn't the right person for Caitlin Bug to live with if she, her husband, and the seven other godmothers died. I asked why. She said she thought I knew why. I said I did not know. She said she didn't want to hurt my feelings by telling me. I said, Go ahead, tell me.

She said I didn't understand how much baby food and baby doctors cost and also that I was twenty-two and living with Rick, who was sixty.

That has nothing to do with Caitlin Bug, I said.

It does, she said, because he's using you for doing it.

Maybe so, I said, but you're wrong.

Test him, she said.

I'm not testing him, I said.

Do it, she said.

No way, I said. I don't want to.

She said it didn't matter. She said that I wasn't the right choice for godmother, because I was weird and obsessive and practically waiting for her to die so I could have Caitlin Bug, and also that I had big thighs and yellow teeth, which gave Caitlin Bug bad dreams. Couldn't I see that when I came over, I made her cry? I said I had thought that Caitlin Bug was crying because she was sad, and my sister said no, it was me.