1
Margaret dangled her legs over the edge of the fire escape and flipped to a clean page in her diary.
"I havent written in a long time," she began, "but now with this Blue Hill thing and all, I feel like I should. Maizon took a test in April. If she passes, shes going to go to this big private school in Connecticut.
"Every night I pray she doesnt get accepted."
She heard a rumble and looked out toward the bridge. The train was a long shadow in the twilight, creeping slowly across water she couldnt see. She watched it for a moment, then stood up and searched the block for Maizon. Lights flickered on and off in the brownstones across from her. A hot summer breeze blew out of the darkness.
Margaret sat down again and continued writing.
"I dont know why Maizon has to go to some dumb boarding school anyway. The schools in Brooklyn are fine. And when I say Blue Hill out loud, it makes me think of someplace sad and cold all the time. Maizon said it probably isnt so cold in Connecticut. She doesnt know about the sad part though. She said without a best friend, itll probably get a little lonely. Ms. Dell said we shouldnt go counting our chickens because were not even sure if Maizons going to get accepted or not. Every day, we wait for a letter. I feel like Im on one of those balance beams we have in gym class—balancing between today and tomorrow."
Margaret closed the book and climbed back inside just as her father came into the living room. She looked at the small blue suitcase he was carrying and frowned.
"Just some tests," he said softly, sitting down beside her on the window ledge. Another train rumbled and somewhere in the distance a baby was crying.
"How long will the hospital keep you this time?"
Margaret asked. She remembered her last visit and started to tremble.
Her father rested his chin on the top of her head. "Until they find out whats making this old ticker act the way its acting. Could be a week. Could be a day." His voice trailed off. Margaret put her arms around him.
"Dont let them take the life out of you, Daddy," she whispered. She remembered her fathers dark, handsome face looking shriveled and old beneath the hospital covers.
"What makes you think your daddys gonna let something like that happen?" He sat up straight and Margaret felt a cold spot where his chin had been.
"Listen here, Margaret . . ." he began, taking her chin in his hands and gently pulling her face toward him.
Behind the slow smile he gave her he looked tired and worried. The wrinkles between his thick eyebrows cut deeply into his forehead.
"You gonna have to hold this family together while Im gone, take care of your mama and Lil Jay."
Margaret nodded.
A shadow crossed her fathers face. "It might take a little while for me to get back on my feet after all these silly tests they gonna run. But dont worry your pretty little head about that. It would take a lot for one of them skinny plastic tubes to bring this six-footer down."
Her father brushed a stray hair out of her eyes. "Why does your mama think she needs to hide all of this pretty hair?"
Margaret smiled and shrugged, then turned a little so her father could undo her braid. His hands felt strong and sure.
"There now. Pretty head of hair like that needs to hang free." He kissed her on the forehead.
Margaret ran her fingers through her hair. It hung to her shoulders in thick waves.
"Wheres that crazy Maizon?" he asked, leaning back out of the window and taking a quick look down the block.
"Shes coming."
"Maybe shell even get here before tomorrow." Her father laughed.
Her mother came out of the bedroom, with Lil Jay following behind her. At fourteen months, walking was
still new to him and he was constantly following whoever let him.
"Margaret, whatd I tell you about messing with your hair?"
Margaret started to speak but her father caught her eye and winked.
"I was just telling her to look after you two while Im gone," he said.
"And whos going to look after Margaret?" her mother teased.
"Jay!" Lil Jay shouted, throwing his bottle across the floor.
They laughed.
"Daddy, will you be home for the block party?"
Her father scooped her up the way he had done when she was young and swung her toward the ceiling.
Margaret laughed and punched his shoulders.
"Block party! Hah!" He sat her down gently and hugged her. "Were going to have a Tory family reunion!"
"Yay!" Lil Jay said, spinning in a circle and hurling himself onto the floor. He giggled and sat up.
She watched from the window as her mother helped her father into a cab, then climbed in beside him. The car crawled slowly down the empty street, signaled once, then turned the corner.
"Daddy . . ." she said, realizing he hadnt answered her question. "Good-bye, Daddy." Margaret hated the way the words sounded in the now quiet apartment.
"Lil Jay!" she yelled.
"Jay," he repeated, toddling into the living room with a pan in his hand. The feet of his baggy pajamas dragged behind him.
"When Maizon gets here, youre going to bed," Margaret warned. "No crying, either."
"Maizon!" Jay repeated, banging the pot against the hardwood floor.
"Bed," Margaret said, turning back to the window and pressing her hands to her ears. A hot breeze blew in over his noise.
"Man, its hot tonight!" She pulled her shirt away from her chest and blew down onto her skin. Where was Maizon, anyway? "Lil Jay, stop that noise!"
The room fell silent. Margaret turned to Lil Jay. His bottom lip quivered.
"Oh, Jay," she said, lifting him into her arms. "Im sorry." She carried him over to the window. The pot clattered to the floor.
They sat on the radiator and stared out past the brownstones at the bridge. Past the lights, Manhattan loomed up dark and shadowy in the distance. The train rumbled by slowly and Lil Jay began to whine.
"Sounds like its in pain, doesnt it?" Margaret whispered. Lil Jay pressed his head against her shoulder. "Probably creeping across that bridge for the millionth time."
"Twain," Lil Jay said, drifting off to sleep.
Margaret stared out into the growing night for a long time.
"You look like Mary and Baby Jesus," Maizon yelled up. Lil Jay started but didnt wake up.
"Its about time!" Margaret yelled back. In the near-darkness she could only make out Maizons Afro and dark dress. She carried Lil Jay to his crib, then ran to hide her diary.
"Whatd you do to your hair? Its scary," Maizon said when Margaret opened the door.
"Me?! Your grandmothers going to skin you alive when she finds out you left the house looking like that," Margaret said. "And with her makeup and earrings too? Maizon, I know youve lost your mind!"
Maizon smiled and sauntered past her. She wore a red and black dress with a black and a red pocket on either side and a red tie at the collar. Her messy Afro looked strange against the two red circles she had blushed onto her cheeks. Huge gold-hoop earrings dragged down her earlobes and her black eyeliner was crooked.
She turned to give Margaret a better look and smiled, showing off.
"Margaret . . . Margaret . . . Margaret . . ." Maizon said, dragging out the name in a phony, grown-up tone. "Are you so corny that you dont know this is what everybodys wearing in the city? Everybody! Im retro." She twirled again and pulled out a magazine she had tucked underneath her dress.
"Look!" she said, opening to a page and pointing to a picture of a black woman modeling an outfit identical to her own. "This is where I saw the dress first. My grandmother made this one exactly like it, and now Im the first girl in Brooklyn to have it! You want me to ask her to make you one?"
"Nah, I dont really like it." Margaret stared longingly at the black sleeves gathered around Maizons wrists.
"You just dont like it cause I got it first!" Maizon declared. She went over to the refrigerator and looked into the fruit bin. "I hate pears," she said, sucking her teeth and reaching for one.
"I dont like red and black together—especially in the summer when its so hot outside," Margaret said.
Maizon looked the pear over carefully. "This pear is all bruised up," she said, taking a bite. "You should tell your mother to buy her pears at Ocasios. They have the freshest ones. Jefferson Avenue Market has good apples, but their pears arent so great."
"My mother doesnt have time to shop, between working and worrying about my father and everything. Not everyone can sit around like your grandma and make dresses!"
Maizon took another bite and frowned. Margaret turned away from her and flipped angrily through the magazine.
"Well then, ask your mother to give us money and well do the shopping," Maizon suggested.
"I dont like to ask her a lot of things because it seems like shes always crying. That makes me cry. And Lil Jays always crying!" Margaret yelled.
Maizon sucked her teeth again. "God, sorry I asked!" She stared at her pear. "Isnt your daddy getting any
better?"
"Theyve gone to the hospital for tests. Hes going to have to stay there. He looks skinnier too." Margaret sat down and put her elbows on the table. Didnt Maizon understand anything?
"You gonna go visit him?"
"They said maybe I shouldnt go anymore because I get too upset. I always start crying. I hate the way those white sheets swallow him up. It scares me."
"You want me to go to the hospital with you?"
Margaret nodded. "I do, but only family can visit him. If you could go, maybe I wouldnt start crying."
"I wish the stupid hospital people didnt know your family. Then I could make believe I was your sister or something."
Margaret got up again, took a pear from the refrigerator, and began cutting away the peel.
"Hey! Thats the best part!" Maizon said, grabbing the peel. She tossed her core into the garbage can.
"I hate that part." Margaret pushed the small green pile across the counter to her, glad Maizon wasnt mad at her for yelling.
"Wheres Junior?" Maizon asked with her mouth full.
"One of these days my mothers gonna hear you call him that and kick you out of the house."
"I know, but Lil Jay sounds dumb. No one calls your dad ‘Big Jay."
"Yeah, I know." She handed the rest of her peel to Maizon. "Lil Jays asleep."
"Can you go outside?"
"Only if Ms. Dell and Hattie are there. Did you see them when you were coming upstairs?"
"No, but theyre probably just waiting until it gets a little cooler out. Anyway, its only eight-thirty."
"Maizon, can you show me how to do that dance where we turn and go down and—"
"That dance?!" Maizon screeched. "Where have you been, Margaret? Under a rock? That dance has been dead for ages!"
"Oh, you aint so smart, Maizon Singh!" she shouted. "You think you know everything, but you dont! You dont know anything!" Margaret screamed, running into the living room. She buried her face in one of the couch pillows and cried. After a moment, Maizon tiptoed in and sat beside her.