level of unhappiness.
I let myself drift to my happy spot, that bittersweet memory I called up whenever life got hard. Me and Peanut, curled up together on a hospital bed.
We had been alone, just me and the baby. Somewhere in this quiet space, after the doctor took off his monitor and said it was time, and when I noticed that he no longer moved anymore, we became a family.
I wasn’t close to my parents. I was a late-in-life baby, a surprise that came fifteen years after my older brother. He was out of the house, graduated and gone, before I was old enough to really know him.
What my parents called the generation gap, I called the Grand Canyon. I had nothing in common with the people who raised me. Once I had my own opinions about things, I was nothing but a confusing, ill-mannered hellion. I didn’t belong to them, and they didn’t belong to me.
But not Peanut. He had been mine. From that moment I found out I was pregnant until the nurses took him away to be cremated, he was mine.
I flopped back on the cushions to stare at the water-stained ceiling.
At this point, I couldn’t imagine having a life stable enough for a kid. But I lived vicariously through Corabelle and three-year-old Manuelito. I liked watching the boy if I got the chance. I could probably do it more now. He and I could be wacked-out maniacs together.
Eventually I would have to find another job.
I got up and started pacing Corabelle’s apartment.
Most of my stuff was still in storage. I hadn’t been able to afford to ship it here. I brought as many suitcases as I could get away with on the bus to San Diego when I moved here for the hospital job. I figured once I got a few paychecks under my belt, I could have the rest trucked over.
But not now. I couldn’t live much more cheaply than I was. Corabelle’s apartment was about as low as it got without living someplace seriously sketchy. And I’d avoided deposits or transfer fees by subleasing from her.
She lived here on a coffee-shop wage, so I probably could too. I kept things simple. Fancy didn’t suit me. It would be all right.
I dug my phone out of the box and sent Corabelle and Jenny a text. So, is Cool Beans hiring?
Corabelle was probably in class. No telling with Jenny. She was skipping half her courses these days to hang out with her eccentric sugar daddy.
But the phone buzzed within seconds.
From Corabelle: What happened?
From Jenny: Glad you’re home. I’m coming right now.
I tapped off a quick note saying I’d been escorted from the hospital like a common criminal.
Within fifteen minutes, Jenny was barging through the door, her pink hair streaming behind her like cotton candy unraveling from a cone.
She yanked a giant pair of designer sunglasses from her face. “What the hell is wrong with those hospital people?” she asked. “I thought they signed some hypocritical oath to take care of people!”
I could only stare at her. Jenny had always been a little larger than life. Crazy colored clothes. Wild hair. An attitude to match. But today. Wow. Shiny black knee boots stood high on five-inch platforms. A teeny black vinyl skirt flared out below a matching jacket. A black and white striped sweater pulled it together. With all that lack of color, her hair stood out like neon paint on newspaper.
“Never mind,” Jenny said. “We’ll catch up after the delivery guys are gone.” She stood in the open doorway. “In here, boys!”
I came up behind her. “What is going on?”
“Frankie bought me another sofa. Like my apartment had one more foot of space!” She waved at two men standing by a truck.
Frankie was the movie director Jenny had hooked up with a few weeks ago. She dumped her poor teaching-assistant boyfriend in an instant and jumped straight into endless nights of B-list parties. Her picture had been in a tabloid last week, and she was still gushing about it.
“You’re having the sofa brought here?” I asked.
Jenny whirled around. “Corabelle has room.
I let myself drift to my happy spot, that bittersweet memory I called up whenever life got hard. Me and Peanut, curled up together on a hospital bed.
We had been alone, just me and the baby. Somewhere in this quiet space, after the doctor took off his monitor and said it was time, and when I noticed that he no longer moved anymore, we became a family.
I wasn’t close to my parents. I was a late-in-life baby, a surprise that came fifteen years after my older brother. He was out of the house, graduated and gone, before I was old enough to really know him.
What my parents called the generation gap, I called the Grand Canyon. I had nothing in common with the people who raised me. Once I had my own opinions about things, I was nothing but a confusing, ill-mannered hellion. I didn’t belong to them, and they didn’t belong to me.
But not Peanut. He had been mine. From that moment I found out I was pregnant until the nurses took him away to be cremated, he was mine.
I flopped back on the cushions to stare at the water-stained ceiling.
At this point, I couldn’t imagine having a life stable enough for a kid. But I lived vicariously through Corabelle and three-year-old Manuelito. I liked watching the boy if I got the chance. I could probably do it more now. He and I could be wacked-out maniacs together.
Eventually I would have to find another job.
I got up and started pacing Corabelle’s apartment.
Most of my stuff was still in storage. I hadn’t been able to afford to ship it here. I brought as many suitcases as I could get away with on the bus to San Diego when I moved here for the hospital job. I figured once I got a few paychecks under my belt, I could have the rest trucked over.
But not now. I couldn’t live much more cheaply than I was. Corabelle’s apartment was about as low as it got without living someplace seriously sketchy. And I’d avoided deposits or transfer fees by subleasing from her.
She lived here on a coffee-shop wage, so I probably could too. I kept things simple. Fancy didn’t suit me. It would be all right.
I dug my phone out of the box and sent Corabelle and Jenny a text. So, is Cool Beans hiring?
Corabelle was probably in class. No telling with Jenny. She was skipping half her courses these days to hang out with her eccentric sugar daddy.
But the phone buzzed within seconds.
From Corabelle: What happened?
From Jenny: Glad you’re home. I’m coming right now.
I tapped off a quick note saying I’d been escorted from the hospital like a common criminal.
Within fifteen minutes, Jenny was barging through the door, her pink hair streaming behind her like cotton candy unraveling from a cone.
She yanked a giant pair of designer sunglasses from her face. “What the hell is wrong with those hospital people?” she asked. “I thought they signed some hypocritical oath to take care of people!”
I could only stare at her. Jenny had always been a little larger than life. Crazy colored clothes. Wild hair. An attitude to match. But today. Wow. Shiny black knee boots stood high on five-inch platforms. A teeny black vinyl skirt flared out below a matching jacket. A black and white striped sweater pulled it together. With all that lack of color, her hair stood out like neon paint on newspaper.
“Never mind,” Jenny said. “We’ll catch up after the delivery guys are gone.” She stood in the open doorway. “In here, boys!”
I came up behind her. “What is going on?”
“Frankie bought me another sofa. Like my apartment had one more foot of space!” She waved at two men standing by a truck.
Frankie was the movie director Jenny had hooked up with a few weeks ago. She dumped her poor teaching-assistant boyfriend in an instant and jumped straight into endless nights of B-list parties. Her picture had been in a tabloid last week, and she was still gushing about it.
“You’re having the sofa brought here?” I asked.
Jenny whirled around. “Corabelle has room.
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