You Only Get So Much (23 page)

Chapter 47

Spokane, Washington

The worst neighborhood
in Spokane, aside from select portions of Hillyard on the north side, is
affectionately known as Felony Flats. The West Central Neighborhood is only
about three miles from my boyhood home, but it's definitely on the other side
of the proverbial tracks. It's one of the city's oldest neighborhoods and it
shows. Every crack in the sidewalk is a pothole. Every porch has a brown couch.
Every yard has a chain link fence for both security and to keep in the dog that
barks all night long.

This isn't to say that
there aren't quality people in Felony Flats or families who do their damnedest
to keep the neighborhood safe and clean. They exist and they try hard. Yet,
these people are few and far between and are quickly losing the fight against
the ghetto moniker.
 

The boundaries of my
high school, North Central, cover the entire neighborhood, along with other
slices of Spokane that are 10 or more miles away. Nice cookie-cutter
neighborhoods with parks in the middle that help bring up the median household
income of the school to something just below average. This had the impact of
creating classes of have and have-not students. Once you were associated with
the ghetto, you stayed in the ghetto.

So as I pull my truck up
to the front of a rundown two-story house in Felony Flats, with a sagging front
porch, wild curls of peeling blue paint and enormous icicles hanging from the
roofline, I'm not surprised to recognize the occupants sitting on the front
steps. Well, at least one of them. A skinny Mexican with a pointy nose sits
smoking a cigarette. His name is Mix. Next to him is an obese woman in clothes
too tight to even mention.

Everybody knows Mix.
Legend says that he gave himself that name when he was a kid, claiming that he
was both love and hate. He couldn't decide which was more important, so he said
he was a mix. Apparently it stuck. I knew Mix from high school. He graduated
with my class, although he was a good two years older than everyone else in a
cap and gown thanks to his six-year plan. A Super-Duper Senior, if you will.

Even before graduation,
Mix had an eye for business. And he was not a bad student, in fact he took
honors classes and was a member of the DECA program that taught students about
leadership, business and entrepreneurship. He took this education and turned it
into a profitable business. But this isn't an American success story.
Unfortunately his business was selling drugs to people like my sister.

You didn't mess with
Mix. He'd been in the business too long to not be careful and selective about
who he associated with. He had muscle to back himself, even if none of it was
his own.

I get out of the truck,
unzip my jacket and remove my stocking cap despite the cold. I hold my hands
clearly visible to my sides, not in the pockets. April had warned me. Don't
look like a threat, she said.

I reach the
three-foot-high chain link fence and place my hand on the gate handle.

"Yo, what's up,
man?" Mix says, flicking his cigarette into the yard. "What you
need?"

He's on the other side
of the gate, blocking my path in seconds.

"For old time's sake,
how about you don't give me a hard time. What do you say?" I ask.

"What the? Billy?
Is that my man, Billy Redman? Shee-yit. I ain't seen you since . . . since a
while, man. How you been?"

"I'm good, Mix.
Thanks," I say, being as polite as possible. "Sorry to just stop by
like this. I'm just looking for my sister. Thought I might find her here."

"You done a lot a
thinking about it then, huh? Thought you'd just swing by the Mix Motel and hang
awhile? Take my lady out? Rip the fiber of my soul from my home and leave me
empty inside. That what you gonna do? I'm not so sure about that. No, I'm
not."

I hesitate, wondering if
Mix actually knows why I'm here and giving me a hard time or if he has been
using a bit too much of his own product.

"I don't want any
trouble," I say. "I'm just looking for April."

He puts both his hands
on the gate and his crazy eyes go a little wider.

"I'm just fuckin'
with ya. She's inside. Big as a goddamned house too. Shee-yit. You best chill
out man. Gonna have yourself a heart attack or something. Billy Redman. My
man."

I follow Mix and his
obese lady friend inside the house. The entry hall is filled will stacks and
stacks of cardboard boxes that I have to navigate past to get into the living
room. The obese woman doesn't even try. She climbs the stairs, which while not
completely covered in boxes, are a bit more narrow than usual thanks to stacks
on the outside wall.
 

"Home
security," Mix says.

"What do you
mean?"

He pulls the lid off of
a cardboard box to reveal it is completely filled with dirt and rocks.

"If it can't stop
the bullet, I sure as shit hope it slows that fucker down," he says.

It's then that I notice
every wall that makes up the front of the house is covered with the dirt-filled
boxes too.

"Drive-bys?" I
ask.

"Fucking
drive-bys," he confirms.
 

"Don't you think
you should cover up the windows too?" I ask.

"So you're the
genius that hears gunshots and stands at the window to see who done it?"

"Well, I just mean
that—"

"You duck man.
That's it. Just duck."

"Gotcha," I
say, blushing.

"Don't worry, bro,
I got little sis in the back."

He leads me through the
kitchen, which to my surprise isn't a science lab for cooking meth. He knocks
on a blue and purple door at the end of the hallway. It has a deadbolt on it
that opens from the inside.

"Baby girl,"
he says through the door. "Big brother is here for you. Want me to tell
him to piss off?"

He slaps me on the arm
to denote he's only kidding. Mix must think he is hilarious.

"No, Mix,
don't," she says. "I asked him to come."

"I's just joking.
Shee-yit."

She flips the lock and
pulls the door open. When I see her, I practically burst into tears.

*
* *

"You look
incredible!" I say.

"Incredibly
enormous," she says with a broad smile.

"Well, that too, I
guess."

She hugs me and her
massive belly bumps into me.

"Sorry, about
that—this little person is always getting in the way!" she says.

"I can see
why," I say.

She looks like a
different person. Her sandy blonde hair is curled and neat, perfectly framing
her slightly chubby face. Her belly is bursting out over a pair of black
stretch pants. The tee-shirt trying to contain it is working overtime. April
has always had a small frame, even as a kid, so seeing her like this, a
soon-to-be mother, is baffling. The ball of belly dwarfs the rest of her. She
looks so different than the person I last saw at Trevor's funeral.

"There's only one
in there, right?" I ask.

"Thankfully."

"When you said you
were pregnant, I didn't think you were this far along. When are you due?"

"Three weeks from
now. February 19."

She closes the door and
sits down in a rocking chair with a pillow attached to the base. The room is
tiny. There's a twin bed under a window and a folding card table with boxes of
crackers and some apples. Under the table are several boxes of diapers and
wipes. A baby carrier sits in the corner with several blankets. A suitcase is
open on the floor that contains her clothes.

Her movements are slow and
measured. Careful. And she looks happy. The frantic girl I saw flitting around
Trevor's funeral is nowhere to be seen. She looks well. I can't remember the
last time she looked so good and healthy. I'm overjoyed, but confused.

When she called she said
she was in trouble and needed my help. When she said she was pregnant, I'm
ashamed to say, I immediately thought she wanted money for an abortion. I'm not
sure what I would have done if she had asked for that. But she didn't and I'm
grateful. So, seeing her here today, healthy and ready to pop, I'm not sure why
I needed to rush home to see her.

"What's
wrong," I ask. "Why did you need to see me so badly? Why couldn't we
just talk over the phone?"

"Because I knew you
wouldn't believe me unless you saw me in person," she says. "And
that's my fault. I know it. For a long time I was mixed up. Getting high and
getting numb to everything. But I'm not that person anymore."

"You've said that
before."

"I know I have. I
went to rehab—that place that Trevor picked for me. I went on my own.
Voluntarily. Got cleaned up. I learned that I can't dip my toe in the water and
assume I can escape. I know that one taste and I'll dive right in. I can't
touch it. I'm done."

"I'm glad to hear
that," I say.

Trevor was the one who always
gave her the benefit of the doubt, not me. Every time she messed up or went on
a bender and did something stupid he'd be there to help her out. I know I was
no help whatsoever. Even our parents were distanced from her and that's the way
it had always been. She got along OK with Dad, but not with Mom because Mom
was, well, herself and hard to love or sometimes just hard to tolerate.

"I know you're
skeptical," she says. "You should be because I deserve that, but I've
turned over a new leaf. I'm clean and ready to start my life over again. Just
like you."

"Like me?"

"Yes. According to
Kendall you're "the man" now. Not some absentee uncle from the
sticks. Mom and Dad needed you. Kendall and Gracie needed you. And you swept
back into town and started over again. Those girls really look up to you,
Brother. They do, a lot, and they should. "

"I don't know about
all that."

"Modesty is
annoying, so knock it off," she quickly retorts. "You did a good
thing. Live with it."

"OK, geez," I
say.

"I need a new start
too. Like you. This baby needs me to be a different person. I want to be the
best mother I can be for the baby and for me."

"You keep calling
it baby. Is it a boy or a girl?"

"I don't know. I
didn't want to find out."

"It'll be quite the
surprise then," I say.

"Tell me about it.
Everything has to be green and yellow. No blue or pink. Just in case. Mix has
got me a few things. I'm lucky."

She glances around the
room at the diapers and baby carrier.
 

 
"So, it's his?"

"Whoa, there,"
she says. "No way. Mix? No. It's not his."

"Then who?"

She takes a deep breath.

"That's why I need
your help. I need to get out of here. OK? Mix was my dealer going back a long
time. But he was always nice to me. Not like some other people. Maybe it was
because he knew you from school or something. So when he found out I wanted to
get clean, he helped me out. That was our relationship. That's it. He didn't
resent me for wanting out of the life."

"Good," I say,
cheering inside that Mix wasn't going to become family.

"But I've got to
get away from the father," she says. "And I need to disappear."

Chapter 48

"The father's name
is Glen and he's not a bad guy, Billy," she says, starting to cry.
"He's just not. He's just confused. Like I was. He doesn't want to be
addicted. But you know, when it happens, it happens."

"No, I don't
know," I say. "Tell me what happened."

"We were together a
couple times over the last few years, but I was all over the place and so was
he. He traveled around. Hitchhiking mostly. Wasted like me. We hitchhiked
together too. Had a lot of fun. He is a drinker. But when I wanted out, he
couldn't come with me. I asked, but you've got to make that decision on your
own. Nobody can force you and he couldn't or wouldn't quit. He got really
mad."

"Mad like
how?" I ask.

"He was
drunk."

"Yeah, I get that.
What did he do? Did he hurt you?"

"He didn't mean
to."

"Of course
not." I say this dripping with sarcasm. "They never do."

"It was an accident.
About a week ago we were at some bar downtown. You know
the one with the mechanical bull?"

"I can't say I'm familiar with it, but go on,"
I say.

"Don't worry, I wasn't drinking, obviously, but Glen
was—a lot. And if I think it's a lot then it's really a lot. He was
having a good time. Playing pool. There was a Gonzaga basketball game on the TV
and everyone was watching that too. Then all of the sudden Glen and this guy
just start going at it. Glen takes a punch to the face and then tries to tackle
this guy who is twice his size. He gets tossed around like a rag doll and he's
yelling something at the guy."

"What was he so upset about?" I ask.

"He was screaming, '
If you think you can just take it, you're
wrong, A-hole
' or something like that. It was very loud and hard to make
out. Anyway, he got thrown into the table I was sitting at and I was pushed out
of my chair and onto the floor. I'm eight months pregnant. That can't happen. I
know he didn't mean to do it, but stuff like this doesn't happen to sober
people. I can't be around that anymore. And I don't think he's going to change
when the baby is born. And I don't think he's going to leave me alone. He says
he loves me, but I just can't do it anymore."

 
"I
think you made the right call by breaking it off with him," I say.

"Yeah, see, I didn't actually break up with him, I
just sort of disappeared and didn't tell him where I went."

"So he doesn't know where you are?"

"No."

"Is he looking for you?" 

"Yes, that's why Mix agreed to set me up here, so I
could lay low.
But no matter what, I can't let that happen again.
Not with my baby around. I thought that you'd take me to your cabin in Montana."

"You want to go
there? Why?" I ask.

"To get away from
it all. What better place?"

"You'll be a
million miles from everything a baby needs," I say. "You'll be
totally alone. Isolated. What happens when you need to buy milk or
diapers?"

"I'll go to the
store. That's what you did," she says.

"It's not that
simple April. It was just me. You don't want to do that. You'll go crazy
without anyone else around. Taking care of an infant completely alone? No
thanks."

"I need to put
distance between me and Glen. And you're not using the cabin anyway," she
says. "Why not?"

I realize that she wants
to run and hide just like I did when Jane and Aspen "died." The
reasons are totally different, but something tells me that the ending will be
the same. Regret for drastically changing her life and that of her unborn
child.

"I understand why
you might want to, but it's not safe for you and a baby alone. It's that
simple. I mean, maybe in the future after the baby is a little older, but I
remember what it was like with a newborn. You're going to want some
reinforcements."

"Then what do you
suggest, since you seem to know everything," she says with a sneer,
obviously upset with me.

"There are lots of
reinforcements at the Cedar House."

"Jesus Christ. With
Mom? Did Mix get you high on something? No bueno."

"She means
well," I say.

"Yeah, like a lion
means well when it eats a gazelle. And according to Kendall, you and Mom aren't
exactly buddies lately. Oh, and how is Aspen anyway? Kinda big news on that
end, big brother. My niece is alive?"

Kendall had told April
about Libby and Jane and everything that had happened when I brought her back
to Spokane the first time. How Mom had shut me out and didn't want to see, let
alone talk to Libby. She also knew we went to Minnesota, but not exactly why.

"Aspen is good.
She's Libby now though," I say.

"Right, Libby. Where'd
that name come from?"

I keep wondering that
myself. I agree with Gracie that Libby is pretty darn close to Billy, but it's
an idea that I'm not comfortable with, even now. Like salt in the wound.

I fill her in on Libby,
Ella, mysterious Alex, and what I've uncovered so far about Jane and the
secrets she was hiding from everyone, including my thoughts on the name Libby.

"That's
intense," she says. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, it's no fun,
but I can't express how great it feels to have my daughter back. It's a miracle."

"Yes it is,"
she says. "So why did Mom get all anti-social when you brought Libby to
Spokane?" April asks, immediately comfortable with the new name.
"Kendall said she wasn't very nice."

"I still don't
know."

"Then what makes
you think she's going to be all lovey-dovey toward me?"

"Because you're her
daughter and she wants you to be good. Happy. Mom's nuts, but she doesn't want
anything bad to happen to you or her grandchild."

"Then
you
ask her
if I can stay there," she says.

"There's no asking.
She lives there because I let her move in because Dad was sick. It's my call.
And besides, you were staying there before the rest of us anyway."

"That's true, but
what about Glen?"

"I'll take care of
Glen."

"That sounds very
Sopranos
of
you," April teases. "You aren't going to whack him, are you?"

"I've got that on
my list of options, yes, but it's not first."

"How very kind of
you," April says with feigned deference.

"Hey, you're my
little sister, if he's gotta sleep with the fishes, then he's gotta sleep with
the fishes," I banter back.

"I think that's a
different mafia movie," she says.

"OK, then I won't
whack him."

"Good."

"So, what do you
say?" I ask. "Want to make it like old times again, living under one
roof with Mom?"

"How could I
possibly resist that adventure?" she says.

"Yep. It's like a
rollercoaster that won't let you off, even if you barf all over the
place."

"Cute," April
deflects.