The Hunger Moon (27 page)

“I don’t want to lose touch with him,” June said of Charlie. “He’s changing so fast now.”

It was true. At six and a half months, Charlie was beginning to make creeping motions on the floor, and once Renata had come into his room to find him clinging to the rail of his crib and bleating for help; he was half standing but unable to move up or down, one foot bent awkwardly under him. Now that he was past the half-year mark, she would put him down somewhere, and five minutes later he would be in some tangle of his own limbs. In his lust for movement he smacked his head frequently on the furniture or the floor, which terrified Renata, but also gave her countless opportunities to soothe him, especially gratifying now that he had developed the habit of throwing his small arms around her when he was sobbing and burrowing his face into her neck.

Bryan had come by last week bearing a two-piece outfit for
Charlie wildly striped in neon colors—sweat pants and a little polo shirt complete with collar and ribbed cuffs. Wearing it, Charlie looked like a tiny Italian soccer player, and, suddenly, very much like a boy. In the one-piece stretch suits Renata had been dressing him in, he seemed so androgynously a baby, forever hers to cuddle and hold. Now Charlie was not exclusively hers, and not just because his father had shown up on their doorstep to claim a share of him. Charlie wanted more of the world, needed it, and was on the brink of crawling off to explore it.

So it was Valentine’s Day, and tonight at least Renata and Charlie had each other, and no one else. At dinnertime she mixed his oatmeal with berry juice to make it pink for a Valentine’s treat. She took pictures of him with his pink-oatmeal—smeared face and hands, and oatmeal-sculpted hair. Then she ran them a warm bath and stripped with him so they could sit in the water together, Renata nudging float toys within his reach as he sat in his swiveling bath chair. Now when he grabbed for something he twisted and lunged with his whole body. At times she had to blink to remind herself it was a baby’s body, because he was so wiry and long, like a little boy. This is going to be over very soon, Renata told herself. Charlie will go to preschool, then kindergarten, and soon he will start getting invitations to other kids’ houses and birthday parties, and when the phone rings it might even be for him. She should start picturing him that way, a year or two ahead of himself, so that time didn’t sneak up on her and steal her baby right out of her arms without her at least expecting it.

And what about her? Should she really be a waitress forever? There was a time when some teacher had looked at her test scores and told her that she had what it took to go to college. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her; she could use her father’s money. But she didn’t have the faintest idea what it was she should study. She had never been driven in a particular direction, like June to her dancing, and she had never had Eleanor’s confident sense of the world. Renata reclined against the end of the tub, her breasts flattening out like water lilies. What she had really wanted to do, and had
turned out to be good at doing, was taking care of Charlie. But that wasn’t exactly a career move.

Bryan had taken some photography course in L.A. Since arriving in Boston he had been snapping away at them with his fancy new camera. Renata hadn’t seen any of the prints yet, but she had been surprised that he seemed to take it so seriously. Something had happened to Bryan in her absence that had changed him into someone with more purpose. Or did she just see him differently now? In his new group house, where he lived not far from her apartment, he had already rigged himself a darkroom in the basement.

She had been impressed with how quickly he got himself organized. It had taken him precisely two days to find a room for a laughably low rent, and to get a good job bartending, thanks to a tip from Theo. He was also as good as his word when it came to showing up when he said he would to get Charlie, and returning him on time. There was really no evidence that she needed to protect herself from Bryan. He didn’t seem to be the enemy at all; instead, she found herself looking forward to the times he would be coming by, and appreciating the extra hours he gave her when he spent time with the baby.

She rose from the tub and patted herself dry, then wrapped herself in a robe and lifted Charlie out of his bath seat. He rolled some r’s on his tongue and drew his rubber duck out of the water with him, holding it and babbling
whoa-whoa whoa-whoa
as she carried him wrapped in a towel to his changing table and put him in a diaper and a sleeper for bed. She nursed him in the rocker until his eyes closed, and lay him already sleeping in his crib. Renata watched as he began his usual turning in his sleep until he was wedged into the corner of the crib, his foot protruding through the slats. It was as if even when sleeping he was restless, not content to be put down in a straight line where his mother lay him, but needing to find and test the outer reaches of his territory.

She let him stay the way he arranged himself, and tucked the blanket over him. The foot remained sticking out the side, a small,
free-agent part of his body. Renata went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of soda—she hadn’t had a drink since the night with Bill—and carried it to the living room to watch television.
Gone With the Wind
was midway through. She stared idly at the screen, watching and brooding. She had always loved the outfit Scarlett made herself out of those green velvet curtains. But she couldn’t bear to watch the riding accident with the little girl, so she spun through the channels, finding nothing else that interested her. She flicked the television off, and on impulse grabbed the phone and dialed Bryan’s new number.

“Hello?” a female voice answered. Renata knew two women and two men besides Bryan lived at the house. Then, of course, mere were all the friends of all of them who no doubt trooped through. Damn Bryan for being too cheap to get his own line, anyway.

“Is Bryan there?” She heard laughter in the background.

“Bryan? Sure, he’s right here. Just a sec.”

Renata heard him say something to the others, and heard them laugh. There seemed to be quite a crowd. Were they having a party?

“Hello?”

“Hi”

“Hey, Ren. What’s up?”

Renata was feeling colossally stupid. What made her think he would just be sitting around watching
Gone With the Wind
, waiting to feel grateful mat she called?

“Just checking in. We on for tomorrow?”

“Sure. Like we said. I’ll be there at four-thirty, in plenty of time for you to leave for work. Okay? I’ll come straight from my shift.”

“Good. You know, you can shower and change at my place. And there will be food in the fridge. Whatever you want.”

“Okay. We all set, then?” He sounded in a hurry.

“Yeah. See you. Happy Valentine’s Day.” Christ. Had she really said that? He probably had a girlfriend over there now. Maybe he was dating someone in his house, which would be like them living together already.

“Same to you.” He did have a woman there. He couldn’t even say the words to her; he had to code it. Fuck it, anyway. Why should she care? As long as he came on time to take care of Charlie tomorrow so she could go to work.

O
N
W
EDNESDAY
R
ENATA PACED
the apartment, fuming. Charlie, playing with his toys on the floor, caught some of her tension and began to cry. That was how Bryan found them at 4:45 when he arrived.

“You’re late,” she said.

Bryan looked up at the wall clock in surprise. It had always driven her nuts that he refused to wear a watch. “Fifteen minutes,” he said. “I had to circle a couple of times to find a place to park.”

“Well, I needed time to tell you some things. You should have been early today. Now I’m going to be late.”

“Relax, Renata.” His voice was irritated. “I’ve been with him before, remember? I know where everything is.”

“Oh, yeah? You’re not interested in how long he slept today, and whether he ate much for lunch, and what new food I’m starting him on? That’s totally irrelevant to you when you give him some dinner and try to put him down to bed?” She heard her voice rise in anger. Didn’t he understand the first thing about taking care of babies? She and June always completely briefed each other when one of them was replacing the other.

Bryan put his hand on her arm. “What’s wrong with you today, anyway?”

She jerked away. “I just want to know that you’re taking this seriously, Bryan. I just want to be on time for work so I don’t lose my goddamn job.”

Charlie had been watching their conversation with wide eyes from his sitting position on the rug. Now he began to cry again, tilting back his head and closing his eyes.

“Now look what you did,” Renata said, picking Charlie up and shushing him with kisses.

“What
I
did? Renata, go to work. When you come home everything’s
going to be fine. Call to check up on me during your break if it will make you feel better.” Bryan reached out to take Charlie, which made him cry louder, stretching out his arms for his mother. Renata didn’t want to release the baby until she had finished reassuring him, but she had no choice; if she didn’t leave that instant, she really would be late.

She shut the door behind her as forcefully as she could without slamming it. What a mistake she had made in letting Bryan back into her life; now she was dependent on him to help with Charlie, and she hated being dependent. Why had she even told him the baby was his? Why didn’t she say she had been seeing someone else on the side, and the baby was the other guy’s? Now there was no going back.

Driving to work, Renata imagined midnight departures with their duffel bags, Charlie and Renata traveling light, the way it was in the beginning. She would leave on a Saturday night after work so that they could have three full days to get somewhere before Bryan even noticed. This time she would tell no one her address. She might even change their last name, so they couldn’t be traced. Florida. That’s where they should be, a warm seaside place with flowery winds where they would shed their winter clothes and feel the night air on their bare arms. But why should Renata sneak away like a criminal? What had she done that she needed to hide from, except want to bear and raise her son without interference? Why couldn’t Bryan just go away and let her do that?

She remembered his initial words, that he would turn around and go right back to L.A. if she asked him to. Well, she might.

As Renata circled the block Viva’s was on looking for a parking place, she saw the full moon hanging like a disk of ice against the dark. Every full moon had its own name, June had told her. She had been going to see some New Age psychic, and had been picking up lore like that. Renata was not interested in fortunetellers. There had been plenty of them on the boardwalk in Venice, but she had never bothered with a reading. For her, bad luck wore a plain enough appearance; you didn’t need to go
hunting it out in order to recognize it. When it came, it was simply what you had been dealt, and you lived past it. Even good luck, or a miraculous turn of events the likes of Charlie, she would rather not know about in advance. That way she wouldn’t waste time waiting for it, and she couldn’t be disappointed if it failed to show.

She finally found a spot three blocks away from the restaurant, and plugged the meter with four quarters to cover her until six o’clock. It was five o’clock exactly, and she would be at least ten minutes late by the time she got to the restaurant and put her apron on and punched her server code into the computerized wait station. It was a good thing that Gil and Theo liked her work well enough to cut her a little slack. She had been dragging in five and ten minutes late ever since Eleanor died, because June couldn’t seem to get it together to arrive at her apartment on time. Now it looked like Bryan would have the same lackadaisical attitude.

The full moon hung directly in front of her the whole time she was hurrying toward Viva’s; its cold light depressed her. What was February’s moon called? The Hunger Moon. It did look starved up there, vapory and thin. Such a cold city. June said that the day Eleanor died, a full Wolf Moon was coming on. Renata pictured Eleanor’s soul rising like a wild moan toward its light, solitary and mournful. Except Eleanor wasn’t mournful; she was a very matter-of-fact person. She seemed to greet life head-on, and probably lifted herself up toward death the same way. Renata liked to think so. It wasn’t so bad, was it, to die in your bed in a single instant after seventy-eight years of living?

A
T WORK SHE STARTED TO CALM DOWN
, soothed by the rhythms of waiting on tables. Her station filled up at a nice, steady rate—not fast enough to make her rush, but fast enough so that she didn’t ever stop to watch the clock. At nine she turned over her tickets to Gil and sat down to eat the pasta and chicken Ron had cooked for the employees. Bill was just finishing his own meal, and motioned for her to sit down. She didn’t feel like joining him,
but she was taking pains not to seem disgruntled over his attentions to Sally, the new server.

“How are things?” he asked, pushing back his empty plate and taking a drink of his Coke.

“Oh, you know.” Renata shrugged. “How about you?”

“Can’t complain. I’m getting ready to take my annual leave, by the way. Actually, I’ll be quitting, but for the last two years Theo has been rehiring me when I get back from sailing.”

“Sounds fun,” Renata said.

“I’d love to take you out on the boat sometime,” he said. “I’ll still be around for another two weeks.”

“Oh, it’s too cold for me. Besides, I’m not much for boats.”

“You acted pretty interested when I was telling you about it before.”

“Well, that’s what brandy will do for you.”

Bill looked at her, catching the chill in her tone. It surprised her, too.

“How’s the boyfriend?”

“He’s not; I told you that.”

“Still in town?”

She nodded. “He spends a lot of time with Charlie.”

Bill picked up his dishes and gave her a wink. “Well, you take care. See you around,” he said.