A Piece of Heaven (2 page)

“To a movie or something.”

“With whom?”

“With myself. I can’t go with my friend Gina. She’s packing for camp. She leaves in the morning.”

Ma picked up a plate and wiped it. “Sorry,” she said with a sigh. “You’re not going out by yourself in New York City with no place to go and nobody to go with at nine o’clock at night.”

She gave me another kiss on the cheek. “You’ll grow up soon enough. Then you’ll have all the freedom you want. You’ll travel all over the world, I bet.”

She placed the dish towel on the counter and crossed to her alcove. She tossed me a little smile. “What kind of birthday cake do you want tomorrow?”

“Same as always, chocolate.” I grinned. “Some things never change, I guess.”

“But some things do,” Ma said wistfully. “I can’t believe my baby is turning thirteen.”

She climbed into bed, pulled the sheet up to her chin, and closed her eyes. I stood there.

What had happened to the ma who used to stay up later than I did? The one who, only a few months ago, insisted on tucking me in? The one who rarely yelled and never cried? She was definitely upset about something. But what? Nothing unusual had happened. Maybe she was sad about Grandma Dora, it occurred to me. When Grandma Dora had died, Ma had cried an awful lot. But that was five whole years ago.
Maybe there are some things you never get over,
I thought, turning around to let out the dishwater.

There was a tiny window above the sink. Perched on the sill was our cookie jar. We’d had it for as long as I could remember—a clown cookie jar, wearing a yellow clown’s hat and a yellow suit with bright red buttons. I remembered Grandma Dora filling it up with oatmeal cookies. Of course, the cookie jar hadn’t always been cracked like it was now, I reminded myself. My finger rested on the gash between the clown’s two top buttons. That had been Dad’s doing.…My only other clear memory of my grandmother was of her singing a hymn about walking alone in a garden with some dew on some roses.

I dried my hands and listened for Ma’s snoring. The room was quiet, which meant she wasn’t asleep yet, but only pretending to be. She was lying so still it was almost as if she were pretending to be a corpse. I crept over to my own bed and looked out the fire-escape window. Across the street, the playground lights had come on. I sat down on my bed and lowered my hand into the cardboard box where I kept my special things, like my stuffed snake and Grandma Dora’s pearl earrings. It’s where I also kept a book I owned, a collection of Grimms’ fairy tales. The Grimm brothers wrote the stories in German. My book was an English translation with brightly colored illustrations. Ma and Dad had given
Grimms’
to me a long, long time ago. I picked up the book and stroked the painting on the cover. It was a picture of Hansel and Gretel walking through a dense forest along a path of gleaming silver pebbles. That was from the part in the story where the path of pebbles that Hansel had made showed him and his sister the way home. Of course, when their father left them in the forest, he hadn’t planned on them coming home at all. The plan was that the two kids would die. But they hadn’t! I knew that it was utterly stupid for a girl my age to be reading fairy tales, but I liked my
Grimms’
.

One of my very favorite stories was called “Darling Roland.” The girl in the story turned herself into things. First she turned herself into a duck, which was kind of ridiculous, then into a red stone, then later on into a flower. But the very beginning was so gruesome. The girl’s wicked stepmother committed a murder. When the girl woke up, she was lying next to a severed head. She tucked the head under her arm, and drops of blood fell onto the floor. The drops of blood had voices. Then the girl ran away with a guy named Darling Roland.

I smiled and put the book down next to my pillow, then went out to the bathroom in the hall. There was only a john and a sink in the hallway bathroom. We shared it with Nirvana and her grandmother. They had their own bathtub in their apartment, just like we did.

When I came back inside, Ma was snoring, which meant she was sleeping for real. I put on my yellow pajamas that crept up to my shins, knelt down on the floor, and said my prayers.

God bless Ma and Otis. And God bless Dad, wherever he is.
God bless Grandma Dora up in heaven. Thank you for my report card, and please let me get a summer job. And even though
we need the rain, don’t let it rain on my birthday. Amen.

I fell asleep reading my book.

CHAPTER TWO

Next morning, the sun woke me up, along with two voices screeching in my ears. Ma and Otis were singing to me.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to YOU!” My eyes shot open and Ma and Otis both started tickling me at the same time.

“Quit it!” I choked, rolling up into a ball. Ma was after my stomach, while Otis tickled the back of my neck. “Quit it!” I howled. “You’re going to make me wet the bed!” Otis backed off, holding his nose.

“Eeew! A thirteen-year-old bed wetter!”

“I didn’t say that I
had
wet the bed,” I grumbled, tossing my legs over the side. The sun through the window was bright. I was already sweating. But I was glad that it wasn’t raining. “I said I
would
wet the bed if you didn’t stop tickling me.”

“Go to the john then, sweetie,” Ma said. Her brown eyes sparkled. I hadn’t seen her look so happy in a while. “We just wanted to wake you up with a big ‘happy birthday,’ ” she said.

“Thanks,” I said, grinning sheepishly. I hobbled toward the door. “But first things first.”

Fortunately, the bathroom was empty. It smelled of ammonia, as it did every morning. The lucky thing about sharing the john with Nirvana and Mrs. Brown was that Mrs. Brown loved to clean. Even the bar of soap on the ledge next to the sink looked brand-new today. That business done, I scooted back into the apartment and immediately tripped on something. I spied a grapefruit lying at my feet. “What’s a grapefruit doing on the floor?” I yelped.

Otis hooted. “Ask Ma.”

I blinked and cast my eyes around. Otis was perched on the windowsill next to my bed, and Ma stood at the stove, smiling. Everywhere else I looked there were grocery bags. “Where did all this come from?” I had never seen so much food before!

“I bought it,” said Ma.

I wandered around the room. There were eggplants in the bathtub, along with three jars of peanut butter. I rubbed my eyes. “Was this here when I went to the bathroom?”

Otis nodded. “Guess you had to go so bad you didn’t notice.”

I glanced at Ma again. “But where did it come from?”

“The all-night grocery store. A dream woke me up at two A.M. So I decided to go shopping.”

Otis rolled his eyes. “I came home just in time to help her carry the stuff upstairs. Ma thinks that the world is going to end,” he joked.

I counted the bags. There were twenty. “All this must have cost a lot,” I muttered.

“I charged it,” Ma explained. “I needed to do the shopping for your birthday dinner. While I was at it, I got a few other things.”

“What are we having to eat for my birthday dinner?” I asked, perking up.

Otis wrinkled his nose. “Duck with oranges.”

“Duck
à l’orange,
” she corrected him.

“Sounds fancy,” I said. “Is the duck in one of these?” I asked, peeking into the bags.

“In here,” Ma said. She opened the refrigerator and a spiny green thing fell out.

“What’s that?” I asked, jumping back.

“Artichoke.” She picked up the green thing and stuffed it back in, then pulled out a carton of eggs. “You’ll see the duck later,” she said. “What about a twelve-egg omelet for breakfast?”

I laughed. “Maybe I should have an omelet with two eggs so that I can save room for my dinner.”

“What is duck with oranges, anyway?” Otis asked.

“A yummy French dish,” Ma said, cracking some eggs into a bowl. “I had it with my co-worker Sylvia when we took her out to celebrate before she got married. It came to me in the middle of the night in that dream.”

“You dreamed about ducks, Ma?” I asked, setting the table.

She nodded. “They were flying around with orange balloons in their mouths. That’s what made me think of cooking the dish. I hurried right out to get the ingredients. Nothing’s too good for my daughter on her thirteenth birthday!”

“What about me?” Otis bristled. “I got the job I was after. It’s all set up. Nobody’s saying anything about that.”

“You got the job?” I exclaimed. “That’s great! What kind of job is it?”

“Working with a guy at an incense stand,” he reported.

“I thought you said you were going into business for yourself,” I reminded him.

“I am, sort of,” he hedged. “Me and my friend are going into business together. Actually, my friend started it.”

“Isn’t that nice?” Ma said, smiling while she cooked.

“You’re going to be selling incense?” I asked.

Otis grinned. “This friend of mine said that you make
boo-koo
money at those stands.”

I went over and slapped him five. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks, Haley!”

“Very industrious,” Ma commented, scooping some scrambled eggs onto two plates.

“I thought you were making omelets,” I reminded her.

“Did I say that?” she remarked. “I don’t know which is more scrambled, these eggs or my brains.” She set the plates down with a nervous laugh. “Come and get it, you two.”

Otis clambered over to the table and I took a seat. “These are delicious, Ma,” I said, digging in.

“I’d pour you some orange juice,” she murmured distractedly, “but I’m afraid if I open the refrigerator again, something else will fall out.”

“Why don’t you have some breakfast yourself?” Otis suggested. “You always say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“I’ll get something later,” Ma muttered, crossing to her alcove. “First I want to give Haley her presents.”

I drew in a breath. “Did I hear the word
presents
?” I squeaked.

“They’re from Ma,” said Otis. “I haven’t gotten you anything yet, but I have something planned.”

“Here we are,” Ma said. She reached under her bed and pulled out two wrapped packages, a big one and a little one. I pushed my plate aside, and she set the boxes in front of me. The bows on the gifts were gold and the paper was lavender.

“Oh, Ma!” I gasped. “Those are beautiful!” I stared at the gifts. “I’ve never seen such pretty wrapping before.”

“I had it done at the store,” Ma said.

“Rip them open!” Otis demanded.

“Hold your horses,” I said, reaching for the bigger box and gently tugging on one of the gold bows. “I want to save the paper if I can.”

Ma stroked my head. “Good girl, Haley.”

I carefully loosened the lavender paper from around a box with pink stripes. I took off the top and reached in. Nestled in folds of tissue paper was something soft and deliciously smooth. “What is it?” I whispered.

“Take it out!” Otis said impatiently.

I pulled out a blue jacket and matching long, flowing pants. “Gorgeous!” I breathed. I had never owned anything so lovely.

“They’re pajamas,” said Ma.

“Boring,” said Otis.

“They are not boring!” I said, stroking the sleeve of the jacket. “I love them!” Ma’s eyes watered.

“Glad you like them, baby. They’re silk.”

“Silk pajamas, wow!” I hugged the outfit close.

“It’s kind of a practical gift,” Ma said apologetically, “but still kind of special.”

“Better than those funky yellow pajamas she’s been wearing for the past three years,” quipped Otis.

“They’re such a nice blue,” I murmured, trying to ignore him.

“Better open the other one before I do,” Otis teased, grabbing the smaller box. I snatched the gift out of his hand, this time undoing the paper more quickly. The gift was a paperback book that reminded me of a dictionary.

“A thesaurus,” I announced, reading the title.

“I thought it would come in handy,” explained Ma. “You can look up a word and find lots of other words that mean the same thing.”

“Wow!” I said, leafing through the book. I had never seen so many words! “What’s another word for
beauty
?” I quizzed Otis.

“I don’t want to know,” he said, putting his hands over his ears.

I stood up and yelled in his face. “
Pulchritude
! My new pajamas are very pulchritudinous!” Otis put down his hands and screwed up his face.

“For you, I’ll look up all the words for
ugly
!” I teased.

“Tell her to stop, Ma!” Otis complained. “She’s going to use that book to insult me. The other day she called me a roach!”

“I should have called you a
rogue,
” I said with a giggle. “It means a person who’s mischievous.”

“Can’t call me any names now that I have a job,” Otis insisted, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Not even an entrepreneur?” I prodded.

“Well, maybe that one,” he said.

I turned to Ma and gave her a hug. “Thanks for the presents. They’re great.”

“You’re welcome,” Ma said, hugging me back tightly.

“Thanks, Otis,” I added.

“Told you I had nothing to do with that stuff,” he reminded me. “I would have gotten you something more exciting, like a basketball. See you later. I’ve got to go to work.”

“Good luck,” I said, grabbing his waist.

“Let go of me, girl!” he said, yanking away. “You’ve got cooties!”

“And you’ve got athlete’s foot between your eyes,” I zinged him.

“Don’t start,” Ma warned, pushing us apart. She stood on her toes and gave Otis a kiss on the cheek. “Be back early for Haley’s birthday dinner.”

He hopped out the door. “Don’t burn it, Ma!” he called with a hoot.

“What a thing to say,” Ma mumbled. She glanced around. “I certainly bought enough food, didn’t I?”

“We can eat lots of vegetables with the duck,” I suggested, dashing into the corner to try on my pajamas.

Turning her back to give me privacy, Ma crossed to the stove. “Good idea, Haley. I have a butternut squash that I’m dying to bake.”

I slipped on the pants and then the jacket. They felt so smooth next to my skin. I waltzed out into the room. “What do you think?” I asked, making a pirouette.

Ma watched admiringly. “Nice. A perfect fit.”

“Can I wear them during the day?” I asked eagerly.

She chuckled and picked up the coffeepot.

“Not even out on the fire escape?” I asked, dashing for the window next to my bed. I scooted up onto the sill before Ma could stop me.

“Where are you going in your nightclothes, Mahalia Moon?” she called, following me with the pot in her hand.

“Out!” I cried, climbing out the window and onto the fire escape.

Ma stuck her head out. “Come back here!”

“Relax, Ma. Nobody’s watching.”

“There are people on the street,” she insisted.

“Then come and get me,” I teased. Ma took a step back. Her hair was wrapped up in an old scarf. I knew that my mother would drop dead before she stepped onto anybody’s fire escape looking like that.

“Come in here, Haley,” she called helplessly.

I looked up. My new blue pajamas matched the sky! I spread my arms out. What a perfect day! Another scorcher, maybe, but a scorcher with a beautiful breeze. Sunlight bounced off the red brick of the buildings. Even the cars on the street seemed to gleam. And down below on our stoop, Nirvana and Dill sat kissing. Next year, they would be seniors, and they planned to get married when they graduated.

“Hey, Nirvana!” I yelled. She looked up. Her gold earrings gave off a glint. Her head was a sculpture of braids.

“Happy birthday, Haley!” She’d remembered!

Dill waved. He was wearing his restaurant uniform. Ma’s hospital gave her Saturdays off, but Dill and Nirvana usually worked on weekends.

“Hey, little chick!” Dill called up. “What are you going to do on your birthday?”

“Eat duck with oranges!” I shouted.

“Come in with those nightclothes on,” Ma scolded, pushing half her body out the window. She had taken off the scarf and combed her hair. “Come in!” she insisted, grabbing my hand.

“Okay, okay,” I said, relenting. She stepped aside so that I could climb in. “What makes you think they have to be nightclothes?” I asked. “If I’m wearing them now, aren’t they
day
clothes?”

“Don’t give me lip,” Ma said, wagging her finger.

I smiled and grabbed my jeans off a chair. “Just teasing, Ma. I’ll get dressed.”

“Go out and have fun,” she encouraged, turning to the stove. “Coffee should be done soon. Want some?”

“No thanks,” I said, pulling on my top. I folded the new pajamas and made up my bed. Then I grabbed my thesaurus.

“Where are you off to?” she asked.

“Nowhere special,” I replied. “Maybe the park. Maybe I’ll go to the grocery store and look at the bulletin board. I might find a baby-sitting job.”

Ma stared off into space.

“Want to come?” I asked her.

“I’ve got a lot of preparation to do,” she said, snapping out of it. “I’ve got to whip things into shape.”

“Want me to help?”

“You go,” Ma prodded. “It’s your birthday.” She hurried across the room to the dresser. In the top drawer, there was a pay envelope. “Buy yourself a doughnut,” she said, handing me five dollars.

I gave her a kiss. “Thanks, Ma,” I breathed. “That will buy more than one doughnut, though. I’ll put the rest away.”

She pinched my cheek. “You look taller today.”

“You think so?” I asked eagerly.

She nodded. “You grew in your sleep.”

I strode to the door and looked over my shoulder. Eggplants were still in the bathtub, and bags were strewn everywhere. A knot tightened in my stomach. “Don’t work too hard, Ma!”

“Don’t worry about me!” she called, suddenly whizzing about. She dumped a bag of vegetables out on the table, reached for a box of sugar from the cabinet, tugged open a drawer, and pulled out a knife. Then she yanked open the refrigerator and an orange rolled out.

“I’ll pull this party together in ten seconds flat!” Ma said, tossing me a huge smile. She poured herself some coffee. I waved and banged the door shut.

I headed straight for Rivera’s. Mr. Rivera himself sold me a coconut-cream chocolate doughnut. I sank my teeth in, right then and there at the counter. “These are the best!” I exclaimed, licking a drop of cream filling off the side of my finger. Mr. Rivera nodded appreciatively. He had a streak of flour in his gray hair and a jelly stain on his white apron.