Preview | At His Discretion
“Reach out to me, baby,” I say, holding out my hand, my fingers brushing the edge of my daughter’s palm. She looks down at the stairs beneath her, then at me, a little frown on her face.
“It looks dangerous, Mama,” she says as the floorboards creak beneath our weight.
“It’s not dangerous if you go around the hole, baby. Just step over, and I’ll catch you.”
“Is it going to break?” she asks.
“Nope, I promise. Look, I’ll do it on this step to show you, okay?”
I move down one step and am met with an ominous thud for my trouble, the stairs shaking as if in the midst of an earthquake.
Kitty freezes, her mouth open and eyes wide. Our gazes lock and hold as I go still, hoping she’s not about to cry. Then her eyes crinkle at the edges, and she bursts out laughing, holding her stomach as the red ribbons in her pigtails sway back and forth.
“You nearly went through the stair, Mama!” she says, grinning wildly above me as I brace myself against the handrail. I square my shoulders and press a finger to my ear, blowing air through my teeth as if I’m speaking into a microphone.
“Base? This is command. The child will not comply. Permission to use force?”
Kitty giggles again, her little face lighting up at the game. Thank god. I don’t know what happened in the middle of the night, but the hole in the floorboard definitely got bigger somehow.
“I’m going to slide down the banister!” she says brightly as I pretend to reach for her. She squeals, climbing onto the long length of polished wood, her hands gripping it as she looks back at me for reassurance.
“Base command!” I shout. “The prisoner has escaped. I am proceeding on foot.”
Kitty gives a high, excited laugh and releases her grip, sliding down so fast I have to run to the bottom to beat her.
There’s a chunky piece of wood at the end of the banister, and I make it just before she hits it, snatching her off the rail and clutching her to me, giving her a thousand kisses as she playfully fights against me.
“Mama! Stop!” she cries, still laughing and batting at my shoulders gently as I pepper her cheeks with kisses.
“You’re my angel cake, you know that? Base command doesn’t get to have you. You’re mine.”
She snorts as I drop her down to the floor. Colored tiles, faded by time, stretch for yards in either direction beneath our feet. They used to be bright copper, green, and white, but now, after almost fifty years, they’ve grown faded and broken, just like the rest of the house.
I glance up at the ivy growing through a crack in the roof, its tendrils stretching outward toward the light fixture. Kitty and I have named it ‘Talulah’ to make the plant’s encroachment into the house less alarming, but I know I’ll have to deal with it soon.
“Talulah’s getting pretty big now, Mama,” Kitty says, following the direction of my eyes. “Can’t we cut her back some?”
“I would, Baby, but I don’t have a ladder that high. We might be able to borrow one from Hank down the street if we ask nicely.”
“Hank’s mean, though.”
“He’s just old, Baby,” I say gently. “He doesn’t always like to be bothered, and that’s okay.”
“Mama, I think we’re going to be late.”
Glancing at my watch, I curse under my breath as I see the time. Kitty has twenty minutes to be in her classroom, or she gets another tardy slip. I wish I were one of those organized mothers, always meticulous with my daughter’s schedule, but I am notoriously bad at arriving anywhere on time.
“We’re gonna have to make a run for it, sir, there’s no time to lose!” I say into my imaginary earpiece, as Kitty squeals and I grab her hand, sprinting to the front door.
A crystal charm my mother placed on a hook forever ago, twists idly above our heads, sending spangling patterns across Kitty’s face as I grab my jacket and bag and we race out of the house.
Slamming the door and locking it behind me, we run hysterically down the street, Kitty getting into the spirit of the game like she always does. Her little feet run at full speed toward the edge of the sidewalk, much faster than me, and I have to catch up to her.
As we run past the houses on our road, I can only marvel again at how lucky we are to live here. It’s not a fancy neighborhood at all, but we have friends and wonderful neighbors on every corner.
The buildings are tall, red brick and imposing, with pointed brown roofs like a Toblerone, stretching all the way to the park at the end of the street.
Kitty reaches the gate into the park first, her bright pink bag shining in the sun as she hangs off a railing, waiting for me. Her dark hair flaps in the light breeze, brown eyes flashing with glee as she sprints away as soon as I reach her. She loves a chase, and she’s fast as hell.
By the time we get to the other side of the park, I’m hot and sweaty, the smell of roses rushing toward me on the breeze as we pass a few that have somehow taken root beside the road.
Kitty’s school is visible in the distance now, and my heart rate lowers a little when I realize the mad run has meant we won’t be late.
Kitty stands at the edge of the sidewalk, carefully watching the cars and buses go by. She’s so good when we’re out together. Even at six years old, she is more aware of her surroundings than most adults, and never crosses a road without the walk sign.
“Pete is outside!” she squeals, pointing up the road to a tall, burly man outside a store ahead of us.
The royal blue awning above his head perfectly matches his apron, and he waves two bags at me as we scamper across the road toward him.
Pete is large, with a bit of a belly, and has bright, kind eyes and a gleaming smile.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I say as we reach him and he grins, giving me a kiss on the cheek and handing me the bags. Whatever he’s made for us today smells heavenly, thick pieces of cheese inside melting against the paper, and I can see a slice of bacon under a layer of focaccia bread.
“Hey, KitKat,” he says, winking at Kitty, his burnished brown skin glowing with sweat from the kitchen. “Has your mom made you late again?”
“Hey, I was on time!” I protest, biting into the sandwich and closing my eyes in bliss. “Seriously, Pete, you shouldn’t give us so much food. You’re not gonna get in trouble for this, are you?”
“No, honey. It’s all good. I paid for these.”
I frown at him. “Well then, let me pay you back, at least.”
“KitKat’s smile is my payment. Okay, Kit, I want a big grin, please.”
She obliges, her mouth going wide, with cheese squeezing out between her teeth. It’s gross, and I almost choke as I begin to laugh.
“There you go,” he says, holding a hand out to her as she high-fives it. “Who’s my favorite girl?” he asks.
“Mommy!” she shouts, and I laugh, waving to Pete as we run the last hundred feet to school.
Reaching the school grounds, I can see Mr. Warner, the principal, prowling around, watching for latecomers. I’m relieved that the bell hasn’t rung already, and I won’t have to do the walk of shame to sign her in again.
Looking down at Kitty, I smile as she waves at her friends from class. She’s in a good mood, which isn’t always the case before school, and I’m grateful she seems happier today.
Lately, she’s been bullied by a couple of the snotty little boys who think they can tease someone for being different.
Her Chinese heritage is obvious compared to the other kids in her class, and one or two of them have learned bad words from their parents and called her names over the past month or so.
If I find out which ones they are, I’m gonna knock their heads together.
“Okay, baby, you have a good day. Mommy has a longer shift, so you need to go to Mrs. Felton’s room for afterschool, remember?”
“I will,” she says wearily, and hands me the empty bag from Pete. She has inhaled her breakfast, and I’m happy she has food in her stomach.
With a skip in her step, she canters across the playground to a little girl with matching pigtails, and they run off together.
I smile fondly as I watch her reach a group of girls and walk inside with them. I keep a sharp eye out for the boys she said bullied her, figuring they’re older, as most six-year-old kids haven’t learned to be prejudiced yet. But no one bothers her before she disappears.
Crumpling up the bag, I throw it in the trash, finishing my own sandwich as I walk to the bus stop.
Thanks to Kitty’s energetic run, I am early for the first time all week. I lean against the post and watch the world go by. There’s a blue jay fluttering in the branches above my head, a bright blue stripe on his tail as he tries to find his footing.
It’s mid-June in New York, and it’s my favorite time of year. As the bus approaches, I watch the melancholy trudge of the other commuters waiting to get on in the heat and smog of the city, but I have no desire to jump the line.
The world is a beautiful place, and as I finish my excellent breakfast, I drop a little piece of the focaccia onto the sidewalk, and the blue jay swoops down to grab it.
I get on the bus, looking forward to the day ahead.
***
The salon where I work is a beautiful building with huge windows on Turner Street on the West side of the city. I’ve worked there for about a year.
I still wish I had my own salon, but my foray into running a small business was such a disaster that I’m just grateful for a steady paycheck right now.
Lewis, my manager and the owner of the salon, nods to me as I head inside. I’ve got a long list of clients today, and I’m hoping I can fit everyone in. I like to help people out if they’re in a bind, and sometimes that means I get into a mess with overlapping appointments.
Once I’ve popped my bag into my cubby, I go out to greet Hailey, my first customer of the day. She has unruly, tightly curled brown hair and won’t allow any other stylist to touch it.
“Shave my head,” she says irritably as soon as she sees me, lowering herself into my chair and propping her feet up on the bar beneath. “Just shave it all off and put me out of my misery.”