Page 21 of A Million To Fall

Eddie leers at her. “Fuck, yes. You look ripe, baby.”

I swallow the bile rising in my throat. God, I hate him.

“Mom, where are you going?”

“She’s going to work,” Eddie cuts in and stands.

I ignore him. “Mom?”

Eddie steps in close. “You really need to learn your place, Boston.” He takes another step, nostrils flared.

My mom lays a hand on his chest, then looks at me. “It’s just for a few hours, baby, okay?” she says, her voice gentle. “Can you get Bronx and Cass into bed?”

“No, Mom, I work tonight,” I remind her. “Who’s gonna watch them? And what about food? There’s nothing left.”

“What about the leftovers?” she asks, looking to the fridge like it’s transparent.

“Your boyfriend ate them,” I grit out.

Eddie shrugs, licking sauce off his fingers, clearly unconcerned.

“Okay, uhh, well, maybe you could call out? Just today? Or see if Miss Janine can watch them?” she says, while Eddie slips into his jacket. “I’ll go to the store tomorrow. I promise.”

She’s ushered through the door by Eddie. He turns back to me. “You’d do well keeping your fucking mouth shut, Boston.”

He slams the door behind them.

I stand in the silence, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles ache. I can hear Bronx and Cassie laughing in the bedroom, completely unaware that there’s no dinner and their mom just walked out looking like bait.

Thank the heavens for Miss Janine and her willingness to watch my siblings in a pinch.

There’s no way I can miss work today, not if I want to keep this job. Sure, it’s nothing fancy, but the hours are flexible, the work is easy, and I make enough for groceries and second-hand clothes for Cassie, Bronx, and me.

Luckily, it’s a slow evening, giving me a chance to get some of my book report done in between wiping down equipment and restocking towels. It’s not due till next Friday, but I’ve learned not to leave stuff like this until the last minute, because things at home aren’t always predictable.

At nine sharp, my shift ends. I pack up, ride the bus, and stop by Miss Janine’s to get my siblings.

By the time I reach our building, Bronx is asleep in my arms, all soft breaths and twitchy fingers. Cassie trots beside me, taking three steps for every one of mine.

“How was your evening?” I ask as we head up the walkway.

“Boring,” Cassie says. “I colored and Bronx watched cartoons.”

I chuckle. “Sounds pretty ideal, actually.”

“What does ideal mean?” she asks, looking up at me.

“Umm, it means, like, perfect,” I say, adjusting Bronx in my arms. Even though he’s a small dude, forty pounds of dead weight is still awkward to carry.

“Was your afternoon ideal?” she asks, her breath foggy against the frosty air.

I smile. “Yeah. Sure.”

We reach our stairs and I motion for her to go ahead. “Did you eat at Miss Janine’s?”

“We had SpaghettiOs,” she beams. “With the little baby hot dogs.”

“And? Ideal or no?”