Chapter 4
Driving down the rutted dirt road between the highway in South Shore and the Vintages trailer resort is like entering a liminal space for me. It’s leaving behind work and the hustle bustle of the day and stepping into the quietude of home. Thick stripes of red-orange Georgia clay mixes with a sandier soil. A light thicket of pine trees rise up, dark against the blue sky.
You can’t see the ocean from here. But I know that if I drove just another two minutes, the clay would give over to sand and the land would slope downward to meet the endless sea.
But since I’m just heading home, I take the final hairpin turn on the winding road driving away from the beach. My mind goes blank. My senses numb, but not unpleasantly so. It’s a bit like stepping through a magical portal without any knowledge of what awaits me on the other side.
In the distance, the Altamaha River snakes away from my car and carries its silt-loaded, brackish backwater toward the ocean. I slow down as I pass the huge sign that reads ‘The Vintages,’ and enter the trailer resort. The sign depicts a gleaming Airstream trailer next to a kidney shaped pool and a few pine trees. My great aunt Delta had the logo made in the 80s, and keeps the sign nice and clean with weekly polishing.
The actual campground is just beyond, and is nowhere near as nice. There’s a flock of worn plastic flamingos scattered through the expansive clearing. A dozen battered Airstream trailers sit in a broad semicircle around the proffered kidney-shaped pool. The pool is kept spic-and-span, like everything that my family owns, but it is missing a few tiles from the decorative border that lines it, and has clearly seen better days.
I swing wide, avoiding the campground, and bump down the very narrow path to the right. I pass three more Airstream trailers, each surrounded by pine trees, until I pull into the very last driveaway at the end of the lane. The clearing is just big enough for my battered but otherwise well-maintained Airstream, and a couple of pink plastic lounge chairs. And of course, my own lawn ornaments. A pair of classic-looking blue alien spaceships, each emitting a plastic picture of a green swath of light.
I got a kick out of them when I found them at a yard sale. My aunt Delta does not find their whimsy endearing. But she doesn’t find much that pleases her. She’s a Scrooge.
I get out of my car and pat the lawn ornaments as I pass by them, then run up the last few steps to my front door. It was an incredibly long day waitressing at Gem’s Diner. I look forward to shedding my uniform – a blue dress and a matching apron – and watching All About Aliens.
I fling open the door, only to find my little brother sitting in my breakfast nook. His long-ass legs are stretched to rest on the corner by my stove and he watches my tiny TV set.
“Hey, Pearl,” he says. His eyes never leave the TV. “Watch this part. Coyote’s about to get scammed, big time.” I hear the cartoonish sounds of BONK and a scream. Malik laughs and shakes his head. “Dude is always in trouble. And he tries to fix it literally the dumbest way possible. It’s great.”
The analysis of the cartoon makes me smile. “Sounds like every cartoon I know.”
This is very much a Malik thing to notice. He’s been watching the same cartoons since we were kids. On any given day, Malik can be found here in this exact position, watching cartoons and eating Cheetos.
It’s comforting to me and I hope that it never changes.
Malik lowers his legs and lets me by so I can get to my bedroom. “Sometimes, I just like to imagine if I actually knew someone who’d use an anvil as a weapon. Like… what is an anvil anyway? And how could a tiny ass little bird always be making them fall out of the sky?”
I snort. “I think anvils were used in blacksmithing. Like to make horseshoes and stuff.”
“Well, okay, Ms. College.” He rolls his eyes with an easy smile as I pull out the partition between the rest of the small space and my bedroom. Malik lives in the next Airstream over and has almost the same model as me, so he’s used to the sounds of me rummaging through drawers and grunting as I change clothes. He calls casually to me. “You’re gonna want some clothes that can get dirty. Mom is at a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, so Aunt Delta needs us to turn over three trailers for new arrivals tomorrow.”
I groan internally. I started work before dawn, and right now, my feet are straight up killing me. All I want to do is sit down for a few minutes.
“Ah, damn. Are we at least swapping days? Mom promised when we moved to the camp full time that we wouldn’t be responsible for all the work.” I grit my teeth, and drop the light blue peasant dress that I was planning on wearing back across my bed. Instead, I pick a pair of black leggings and pair them with a worn ‘Jackson Family Reunion 1999’ T-shirt. It’s one of my Mom’s shirts that I love. I put my work shoes away and quickly hang my waitress’s uniform. I slip into a pair of boring black clogs, eying my pair of big, fluffy slippers with little green aliens printed all over them.
Later, I promise myself. I’m going to put my slippers on, kick my feet up, and do absolutely nothing for an hour.
I tidy away my shoes with efficient motions and roll the closet door closed. Living in an Airstream has made me appreciate organization; everything in my trailer has a place. There can be nothing that’s extraneous when you live in such a small space.
I emerge at last and find Malik has shut off the TV and is typing something into his phone. From the goofy grin on his face, it’s pretty safe to assume what’s he’s doing.
Malik and his boyfriend have been hot and heavy for two years now. I like Crisanto a lot and think they’re a cute couple. But I do worry about Malik leaning on him.
He is a man, after all. He is probably going to let my little brother down at some point. So I keep my guard up with Crisanto, because he will eventually break Malik’s heart. And Malik is my baby brother, so I have to watch out for him.
All men are disappointing in the long run. Ask my mom. Ask my aunts. Hell. Considering how things went with Bishop, ask me.
I give Malik a tart smile. “How is Crisanto? Still being an amazing boyfriend, I hope.”
Malik glances up at me with a shy smile. “He’s great. He’s coming home from a work trip in a couple of days, and I can’t wait.”
I pull a kombucha from the tiny fridge and shoo my brother over to make room for me to sit. He is tall and lanky, with that physique that only twenty-year-olds have, so it’s a squeeze for us both to sit comfortably in here. “You’ve been spending a lot of nights at his place in Cape Simon. Do you two ever talk about moving in together?”
Malik’s lower lip protrudes. “We’ve talked about it. But we are taking things slow.”
I nod and slip my arm around his shoulder for a quick hug. “That’s smart. And you know you’re my favorite person in the whole damn world. So basically, take all the time in the whole entire world. The longer you’re here, the better it is for me.”
Malik grins. “When I move, that means you’re going to have to pick up the slack.”
I laugh. “Shoot. No way am I working any more than I am already. Between Gem’s Diner and here, I work all the damn time.”
I complain about my schedule, but I’m okay with it. Working constantly is a good way to keep myself busy. And since I broke things off with my ex-boyfriend, I don’t want to let anyone fill that space.
The Vintages can be my new beau.
Malik shrugs. “You don’t have to. You can move out and stop helping around here. If you stopped, it would be a death blow. I think it would be a less painful way to go than the Vintages drifting toward oblivion at such a glacial pace.”
Shaking the bottle, I screw up my face. I sort of agree, but I’m not going to be the reason that the Vintages ceases to operate. “Aunt Delta loves this place.”
He cuts me a look. “Then Aunt Delta should figure out how to pay the back taxes on this place.”
I take a sip and sigh. “Yep. That’s tough. The last I heard, she was trying to get some bird-watching charity to pay what she owes for the right to use our land once a year. I think that sounds like a good idea, but it’s unlikely to help our financial situation enough.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good deal. But you never know, I imagine those folks have a lot of white guilt.” Malik eases himself up, moving carefully. “Let’s get started on these turnovers. I want to go lie down and turn the air conditioner on full blast.”
I follow him out of the trailer, watching his slight limp. He’s favoring his right leg. My tone is a little more aggressive than I mean it to be. “Are you having a sickle cell flare up?”
“A little one.” Malik waves my question away. “It’s not that bad. Honest. This new medication is so expensive, but it really works.”
“Malik Brown, you stop right there.” I move around him, and stand in his path. “Why didn’t you tell me? I can take care of the housekeeping on my own.”
He flicks me an annoyed look. “I don’t need you to do that. Last month you took care of the whole resort for two weeks. That’s plenty.”
I cross my arms and play the big sister card. “I’m your big sister. That means I’m in charge. Get your ass to bed, Malik.”
“I’ll make you a deal.” He moves around me and slowly lopes toward the resort. “I’ll help with the Airstreams, but I’ll let you do the cabins on your own.”
“There aren’t any cabins on Auntie Delta’s list!” My mouth bunches up. I trail after him up the little path that’s a shortcut through the woods to the trailers.
He limps into the big clearing and heads toward the semicircle of Airstream trailers. “Good. We shouldn’t have much to do, then.”
I roll my eyes at him. He’s not really respecting my authority and I don’t like it at all.
First, I stop by the discreet housekeeping shed along the tree line to grab a bundle of sheets, and the mop bucket full of cleaning supplies. Then I head to see where my brother is.
He’s flung open the front door, and all the windows, of trailer number 4 and is currently shaking out the narrow strip of frayed carpet that runs from the door to the bedroom.
I leave the mop bucket out front, and head to the back with the new sheets. Malik scoots into the tiny bedroom with me, and takes the other side of the bed without saying a word. Stripping the bed is so ingrained in my muscle memory that I do it without a thought.
“I saw Lucy Bennett-Taylor yesterday evening,” I say, making conversation because the next part is so dull. “She was down from Atlanta to see her parents. She says hi.”
“Oh yeah? I love that girl. She said that she’s going to come talk to me about graffiti when she does her next art installation.”
I dump the old sheets on the floor and shake out the fresh ones. “Yeah, she seemed really frazzled. I guess it’s midterms right about now.”
Malik shakes his head. “Don’t remind me. I still have shell shock from college and I didn’t even graduate.”
I pin him with a look. “Yet. You haven’t graduated yet. There is still plenty of time for you to go back and get a degree.”
“True. I’m pretty happy with this found fashion thing, though. I post pictures of me looking super fly in my found fashion of the day. Two minutes later, my Insta blows up with fashionistas outbidding each other for the pieces. I make bank.”
“I know. I’m just saying that college will be there waiting for you when you’re ready.”
Malik purses his lips and shrugs. “All right. Speaking of Lucy, you heard anything from her hot brother?”
A laugh bubbles to my lips. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that. Which one? She has a ton of brothers and every single one of them is hotter than the last.”
He gives a shake of his head, probably because of Lucy’s past antics.
“Lord, I know that’s right.” He fans himself. “Those Billion Dollar Bennetts are so damn hot.” He sucks his teeth and picks up the old sheet. “But I was talking about the one you got flirty with at Savannah’s engagement party. River, right? You told me that you thought there was a spark between you.”
I make a face. “I think I imagined it. I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of him since then.”
“That’s too bad. I thought maybe you’d zeroed in on a sperm donor. His whole family is hot so you know it runs in the family.”
“I’m going to have to roll the dice with whatever the sperm bank in Chatahatchee has on offer. I told you I stopped by there before my afternoon shift, right?” I shake my head and head outside. “As soon as I get together enough scratch to go that route. Hopefully I’ll be able to do it sooner than later, because there is a clock on my eggs. Women in this family stop being fertile as early as forty.”
Malik winces. “I love you, but please don’t start talking about menopause. You can vent to literally anybody else in the family about it. Aside from me, there’s nothing but women as far as the eye can see.”
I laugh. “Okay. I guess I can spare you.”
We spend the next few minutes speed-cleaning the bathroom, kitchen, and dining room. As I prep the mop bucket, I point at the banquette seat. “Sit down, take a load off. Let me finish this part since it’s easier for one person to do it anyway.”
“Thanks.” He slumps onto the red vinyl banquette and gives me a considering look. “You ever think about what your life would be like if our family didn’t have the resort to run?”
I run the kitchen tap to fill the mop bucket, and add a squeeze of lemony soap. “All the time.”
“Yeah?” he asks, sitting up a little. He looks like my answer surprises him.
“Definitely. The resort is a lot of work. Some days, I’m pretty sure even Auntie Delta would agree with that. And we both know that she doesn’t agree with pretty much anything, purely out of spite.”
Malik scratches the patchy five o’clock shadow that’s beginning to form on his face. “Don’t tell her I said so, but I’ve definitely noticed that almost all of the day-to-day duties of keeping the resort up fall to you and me.”
I wrinkle my lips. “I’ve noticed it too. And I wouldn’t say boo about it to anyone if Auntie Delta didn’t owe almost twenty grand in back taxes on this property. I don’t care about the money that the resort brings in, as long as we don’t owe the government anything. But by not paying her property taxes, Delta is risking the whole piece of land being auctioned off.”
Malik straightens, his eyes bulging comically. “How do you know all of this? Auntie is such a grouch when you so much as hint at asking about the family finances.”
I add water to the bucket and give him a tired look. “I happened to be in her trailer when Auntie Glory came charging in waving a bunch of papers she said were from the IRS. Glory’s the only one that Delta even remotely listens to, you know. They had it out over the back taxes. Auntie Glory said Delta was putting the family at risk by not paying. Delta muttered something about how the state of Georgia needs to pay us reparations and then left.”
Malik gives a low whistle. “Auntie Delta ain’t wrong, but I don’t think the feds care about the fact that we’ve had this land for a century.”
“Nope. They certainly don’t care about how we’re the only Black family in the state that owns such a large piece of coastal land.”
Plunging the mop in the bucket, I clean the Airstream’s floors in smooth, practiced sweeps. Then I roll the bucket to the front door and shoo Malik outside.
I grab the handle of the sloshing mop bucket and lift it. Focusing on the next trailer, I’m not even paying attention when a blurry toddler streaks across the yard toward me. I hear a joyous shriek of laughter just before the kid barrels right into my legs. It takes all my strength not to let the mop bucket tip over onto him. He has sandy brown hair, bright red cheeks, and wears the cutest bright-yellow fleece onesie that I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Malik jumps in and lifts the boy up and out of danger. The kid laughs and bends backward. Malik grips the kid and gapes.
“Ethan!” A harried-looking young woman wearing an oversized white T-shirt and teeny black shorts appears. She sees her son in Malik’s arms and flushes. “Oh my goodness. Ethan, what kind of trouble did you get into now?” She hurries to scoop her kid out of Malik’s arms, looking apologetic. “Sorry. He’s a handful.”
Ethan drops his red sneaker on the ground. My stomach twists as I bend down to retrieve it. It’s so tiny!
“Oh, shoot.” Ethan’s mom holds out her hand expectantly. “Thanks for grabbing that.”
I drop it onto her waiting palm. Sucking in a huge breath, I give her a tight-lipped smile. “He’s adorable. How old is he?”
She jiggles Ethan on her hip and puts the little shoe back onto his bare foot. “Eighteen months. I love him, but god, he’s always into something these days. They don’t tell you about that in sex ed class. They just tell you about having a little angel baby,” she jokes. “Ethan is always moving around, always getting in something. But he’s cute.” She touches her baby on his nose. He laughs and puts his thumb in his mouth.
“He sure is. If you ever feel like you want a night alone, come knock on my door. I live just over there.” I gesture to the trees behind us. “I love kids!” My eyes connect with Ethan’s. I think of how much I mean what I just said and hot tears prick my eyes.
Ethan’s mom gives me a strange look and mutters her thanks. Then she turns and hurries back to her rented trailer.
Wrinkling my nose, I sigh. “I just freaked her out, didn’t I?”
“Yup.” Malik rocks on his heels. “You have baby fever something fierce. You better get on CupidsArrow and find yourself a man to father your kids.”
I heave a sigh. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Of course.” Malik slides me a sneaky grin. “I love a secret.”
“Malik, I want a baby so damn bad. Did I tell you how much the sperm bank quoted me?”
His eyebrows lift. “No… Dare I ask?”
I give a humorless chuckle.
“It’s pretty damn expensive for the sperm bank to match me with a sperm donor. Like fifty thousand dollars for them to match me and get me pregnant.”
“Whoa! I went into the wrong line of work.”
“Yeah, seriously. And get this. I asked if they have donors that would not be sickle cell carriers, since I already know that I’m a carrier. And the doctor told me that they could do it, but the bank’s fees would almost double. Can you imagine?”
Malik sucks his teeth. “I’m telling you. You just get drunk one night with those Billion Dollar Bennetts and see if you don’t get yourself knocked up. I’m betting that River’s got real good genetic material.”
I roll my eyes, turning away from my little brother. “Yeah right. Like River is just going to sleep around without using protection. Not very likely.”
“I think it’s more likely than you think.”
I slip my arm around Malik’s waist. “You’re crazy. Now come on. You sit and keep me company while I do the other trailers. I want to hear about how your art is going.”
Malik gives me a squeeze and grabs the mop bucket. We start walking toward the next rental.