CHAPTER FOUR
NAE
Amir’s daycare gave me until Friday at five.
My landlord gave me less than that.
The red notice was taped to my apartment door when I got home Thursday afternoon, right above the scratch marks from where Amir liked to drag his toy truck down the hallway wall.
BALANCE DUE: $782.00
I stood there with a grocery bag cutting into my fingers and my son asleep against my shoulder, his warm cheek pressed to my neck.
For one ugly second, I wanted to leave the paper where it was and keep walking.
The hallway was quiet, Amir was heavy, and pretending I had not seen it felt easier than carrying one more thing inside.
Then, the neighbor’s door opened.
I snatched the notice down before Ms. Pearl could get a good look.
“How you doing, baby?” she asked.
“Good.”
The lie came easy. Most of mine did lately.
Inside, I put Amir on the couch, surrounded him with pillows, even though he hadn’t rolled off anything in almost a year, and carried the groceries into the kitchen.
There wasn’t much to put away. Milk. Eggs.
Bread. Bananas. Chicken nuggets. Two frozen dinners for me that cost less than one meal anywhere else.
My phone rang while I was stacking yogurt in the refrigerator.
Malik.
I answered on the first ring, “You send it?”
“Damn, hello to you too.”
“Hello. Did you send it?”
“I told you I’m waiting on my check.”
“You told me Tuesday. It’s Thursday.”
“And I can’t make payroll move faster, Brenae.”
I closed the refrigerator slowly. “Daycare needs three hundred and twenty by tomorrow. Rent needs seven eighty-two. You ain’t sent nothing in two weeks.”
“I had Amir last Saturday.”
“For six hours.”
“Still had him.”
“He’s your son, not community service.”
Malik went quiet, which usually meant he was trying to decide whether to get mad or hang up.
I walked into the living room and looked at Amir. He slept with his mouth open, one small hand curled near his face. Two years and four months old. Old enough to know when his father’s car pulled up. Old enough to cry when it didn’t.
“Can you send half?” I asked. “Anything?”
“I got bills too.”
“So do I.”
“You the one wanted that daycare.”
“I wanted to keep my job.”
“You could let my mom watch him.”
“Your mom smokes in the house and left him in a high chair for three hours last time.”
“She said he was eating.”
“He was asleep.”
“See, this why I don’t like talking to you. You always got something smart to say.”
The call ended.
I stared at the screen until it went dark. Then, I sat the phone down before I threw it.
Crying would’ve felt good. Loud crying. The kind where my chest hurt and somebody heard me through the wall and came to take over.
But nobody was coming.
Amir shifted on the couch.
I swallowed whatever was trying to rise and opened my banking app.
Checking: $94.16
Savings: $12.03
The daycare payment was scheduled to pull at midnight. My paycheck wouldn’t hit until the following Thursday. Even if I picked up Saturday and Sunday, those hours wouldn’t show up in time.
I opened Cash App.
The balance at the top read $1,460.
The birthday-trip money.
Ari had made me hold it because according to her, I was the only one who didn’t spend money like it personally offended me. Four deposits sat there under our names, including mine. The Airbnb required the final payment Friday morning. Twelve hundred and fifty dollars.
I only needed to borrow it for a week.
Not take.
Borrow.
I could pay daycare, give my landlord enough to keep him quiet, then replace it next Thursday before the trip. We weren’t checking into the house for another week. Ari had already sent the host the first half.
There was time.
My thumb hovered over Add Cash.
I locked the phone.
Picked it up again.
Sat it down.
Amir woke crying before I made a decision.
“Mama.” He reached for me, face wrinkled from sleep.
“I’m right here.”
I lifted him, and he tucked himself against my chest. His curls were flattened on one side. He smelled like daycare soap and the fruit snacks he wasn’t supposed to have before dinner.
“Juice.”
“You want juice or you want your cup?”
“My cup.”
“Okay.”
“Blue cup.”
“The blue cup is in the sink.”
He pulled back, offended. “Blue cup.”
I almost laughed.
Almost.
“Give me a minute.”
“No minute.”
No minute.
No room.
No chance to get myself together before the next thing needed me.
I sat him on the kitchen counter while I washed the blue cup. He kicked his feet against the cabinet and told me a long, mostly unclear story about a dinosaur at daycare. I nodded in the right places.
The phone lit beside the sink.
DAY ONES OR DIES
ARI: I’m not talking to Cam today.
KYE: Good
ARI: I said today. Relax.
JORI: What happened?
KYE: Her boyfriend got beside himself
ARI: Can we not announce my business before I do?
NAE: You okay?
Ari responded with a picture of herself under a blanket, bonnet on, one eye visible.
ARI: No but I’m cute so it balances
KYE: There she go lying again
I smiled at the phone. Then, another message came.
ARI: Nae did the final Airbnb payment go through? Host emailed me.
My chest tightened.
I clicked out of the chat and checked the reservation email she had forwarded me. Final payment due by 10:00 a.m. Friday.
Less than twenty hours.
Amir slapped both hands on the counter. “Juice!”
“I heard you.”
My voice came out sharp.
His face crumpled immediately.
Guilt hit before the first tear rolled down his cheek.
“Mama sorry.” I pulled him against me. “I’m sorry, baby. You didn’t do nothing.”
He cried into my shirt anyway. I held him with one arm and typed with the other.
NAE: It’s handled. I’ll confirm tonight.
Ari sent a heart.
Trusting me without thinking twice.
That should’ve stopped me.
Instead, it made me feel like I had to fix everything before she ever found out there had been a problem.
I transferred three hundred and twenty dollars to checking for daycare. Then four hundred for rent. Seven hundred and twenty dollars disappeared from the trip money in less than a minute.
I stared at the new balance until the numbers blurred. The Airbnb payment would fail in the morning unless I found five hundred and ten dollars overnight.
I still had my gold bracelet from graduation. A television in my bedroom. Two extra shifts I could ask for. Maybe Malik would finally send something.
Maybe.
I wiped Amir’s face and handed him the blue cup.
“Better?” I asked.
He nodded and rested his head against me like I was still the safest person in his world.
Another vibration followed.
A private message from Ari.
Thank you for always being the responsible one. I know I’m doing too much with this birthday.
I pressed my lips together. Then, I typed back:
You deserve to do too much sometimes.
That part wasn’t a lie.
I just didn’t know how many lies I was going to need to make it true.