Page 30 of Heart of Sin

I drag my eyes from the window back to her, a pit in my stomach. I’m young but I’m not that dumb and naive; I know what this lady’s doing standing out here.

Before Mom’s last relapse, when she was holding down a steady job, she was a receptionist at a motel by the interstate. Sometimes, she said women like Jamila would bring by their customers, usually truckers passing through. The cops would eventually come by and force them out. Either take them down to jail or let them go with a warning never to come back (though Mom said they always did).

“How long will it take?” I ask slowly.

Jamila puts out her cigarette, stomping on it with her heel. “Not long. Big D’s always looking for new girls. Quick cash, easy work. You can try it, see if you like it. You get paid either way.”

I don’t say anything, feeling suddenly like I should turn and run. My whole body begins shaking, though I’m not sure if it’s because of the cold wind blowing through or the butterflies in my stomach. I lean against the store wall and stare around the street, stalling.

There’s no other way to pay for the formula. I’ll have to return home with nothing. Zara can’t go much longer without it…

Jamila rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be a forever thing, kid. You’re not signing your life away. It’s a job like anything else.”

When another few seconds go by and I don’t say anything, she shrugs and turns to leave. “Anyways, I’ve gotta go. Time is money and nothing’s more important to me than my money.”

I stay where I am, my heart pounding, as I let her walk away. I stay put and watch her shrink down the sidewalk.

Another gust of wind blows through. I shiver, realizing it’s been over fifteen minutes since I walked up. At least a dozen customers have walked in and out of the store in the time I’ve stood here and hoped somebody would feel sorry for me.

I stand up off the wall at the same time a tall man with a puffer jacket walks out of the store. He glances around as if looking for somebody and then stops when he sees me. The second our eyes meet, I’m frozen on the spot. He walks up carrying a bag of things he’s bought, and it takes me another moment before I get it.

Before I understand what he’s thinking. Jamila was just out here.

And now I am.

I’m sitting with Zara in my lap, feeding her her morning bottle when Mom staggers through the door. She’s been gone for over eighteen hours.

A few seconds pass by where Mom wrestles off her coat and tosses her keys and purse down. She squints as she moves into the living room, dragging her nails up and down her arms. She’s staring right at us, waiting for me to speak, but I don’t say anything.

I continue feeding Zara like I’ve been.

School starts in half an hour, and I need to finish soon or I’ll be late.

Mom stops in front of me and then kicks my foot. “Where’d that come from?”

“I bought it.”

“With what money?”

I don’t answer her. Milk bubbles form along Zara’s lips as she gurgles and spits up some of what she’s swallowed.

Mom kicks me again, harder. “That’s not how you feed the fucking baby. Gimme!”

She snatches Zara away, forcing her from my arms. She’s too rough and makes Zara break out into a loud cry.

“Shhhh! Quiet!” she yells over her. She pokes at her open mouth. “I said quiet, Zara!”

I get up and go grab my stuff for school. I don’t like watching Mom handle Zara whenever she’s in her bad moods. Right now, she’s in one.

Wherever she was last night and whatever she did, she’s come back angry and unwell. I can tell by how bloodshot her eyes look.

I pack in a hurry, stuffing my books in my bag. Though I don’t know why I’m bothering. I didn’t finish my homework, which means I’m not bringing my grades up to Cs.

But it doesn’t even matter. I probably wasn’t going to pass any of the finals anyway…

I don’t regret the choice I made last night. I had two options. Stay home and try to finish my homework, or go out and get Zara her formula and us some groceries. I chose what would make a difference.

Jamila was right. It was over pretty quick. Less than twenty minutes.