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Today she was hoping the snow and ice would freeze one problem in particular.
Keeping her pregnancy a secret wasn’t just about superstition—it was also about shame. A little over a month ago she had been moderately successful with a job she didn’t hate, a nice apartment and some security safeguarded in the bank.
Now, she was the woman who got married and pregnant while drunk, topping any scheme her father could have come up with—and it had been an accident. More damaging to her pride, she couldn’t even claim to have quit her job to be at home with her child; she’d been fired. Even if Karl shared responsibility for the baby, he couldn’t share how trapped she presently felt here in Chicago. His family would probably expect her to be happy about the baby growing inside her—when the only thing she could feel right now was terror. Holding on to the idea of a baby being real wasn’t the same thing as being excited about the child.
Until she had a job—income of her own—she was vulnerable and the baby meant her vulnerability risked more than just her own life. And if Karl decided he didn’t trust her anymore, or couldn’t forgive the reason she’d been forced to leave Las Vegas, she and Jelly Bean would be out on the street.
Stopping in front of the Art Institute, she dug some cash out of her pocket—more of Karl’s largesse—and bought herself a Streetwise, the Chicago weekly produced mostly by the homeless and formerly homeless. It wasn’t a new issue, despite the claims of the man selling it, but she didn’t care. When she gave the vendor a couple of bucks of someone else’s money, it seemed like an investment against her own homelessness.
Only she had a home to go to, and especially with the baby, she was fully aware that she’d throw herself into whatever scheme her father was cooking up before she would live on the street. But the knowledge of a bed, welcoming or not, didn’t make the feeling of being entangled by her mistakes any easier to shake.
Instead of walking to the river and watching the water flow under the DuSable Bridge, she stopped at the ice rink to watch a few intrepid families skate in the snow. In another life, with different choices made, she could have been a part of those families.
She brushed the snow off her coat, wishing her despondent mood was as easy to brush away. Karl wouldn’t let her live on the streets. No matter how he felt about her, Jelly Bean was his responsibility and he took care of his own as naturally as he breathed.
But overly responsible Karl and her under-responsible father didn’t have to be her only family. Aunt Kitty was probably still alive, and maybe Vivian could find her. Having another relative in the world might make being alone in Chicago a little less scary.
* * *
“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Karl asked when she walked through the door, before she had a chance to remove her shoes.
“Out.” She unwound the scarf and set it, dripping, on the table in the entry, refusing to acknowledge Karl as she walked past him into her bedroom to get Xìnyùn.
Of course he followed her into the bedroom. He wasn’t a man used to being ignored. “Where is it that you had to go?”
“If you had cared before, you might know the answer to that question.” She said her words in a sweet, singsong voice so she didn’t scare the bird. The saccharine tone probably had the added benefit of irritating Karl. Xìnyùn hopped onto her finger, whistling his approval—probably his approval at Karl’s presence as much as getting out of his cage.
“I’ve asked, and you said you didn’t have a job.” He looked more confused than irritated, which wasn’t the effect she’d wanted at all. But she hadn’t wanted to be interrogated when she got home, either.
“Out walking, Karl. Remember, I go out walking. Like Xìnyùn—” she put the bird on his shoulder, ignoring the possible damage to the fine cotton of his shirt by the bird’s nails “—I need to get out of my cage.”
Karl looked at the bird hopping back and forth on his shoulder, then back to Vivian. “Shit, Vivian, you’re right, and I’m sorry. It’s even worse because I promised myself I would be a better partner, and I told you I would be a better friend. Then, this morning, I left for work and didn’t think of you past the moment I stepped out the front door.”
