The question plagued Mercedes as she threw together ballots and membership lists and copied bios for the candidates running for Coconino’s new board.
She was so deep on automatic pilot, she almost didn’t catch the agenda item until she read through the printed copy for spelling errors. Then it jumped out at her: Bylaw regarding Managers with Children.
She lifted her head, looking for a board member among the early birds filing in for a good seat. Mrs. Garvey stood on the far side of the cantina, arranging papers on a table.
Mercedes strode in to confront her, the agenda trembling in her white-knuckled grasp. “What’s this?”
Mrs. Garvey’s spine stiffened at Mercedes’s tone. She lifted the glasses that hung from a chain around her neck and read.
“That item was tabled from our monthly meeting to the next general meeting.” She lowered her glasses. “You know that.”
“But you said yesterday... I had the impression you supported my effort to keep Dayton and Ayjia.” Mercedes worked to keep her voice civil, rather than hysterical.
“I do. The existing board does, and we intend to put this to vote before the elections. However, the entire community deserves the right to weigh in on this issue, Mercedes. You must see that.”
“Not today.” Her tone was not unlike Dayton’s when he was particularly tired and unhappy. This was horrendous. “The social worker is coming. I can’t be in here to—to say anything.”
Mrs. Garvey fiddled with the collar of her dress. “I feel very strongly about this.”
“So do I!” Mercedes waved the paper. “And I can’t believe you plan to do this while I’m at the other end of the complex, asking to keep custody of children that apparently I won’t be able to house or feed if I don’t have a job!”
“You are not improving your position,” Mrs. Garvey warned in a shaking tone.
“Mercedes.” Mrs. Yamamoto touched her elbow. “Did you eat your breakfast today? Here, you sit. I will see what Carla has behind the counter. Clam chowder, I think. Doesn’t that sound good? Mmm. Very nutritious.” She toddled away.
Mercedes plopped into a chair and folded forward on the table, hiding from the blinking faces staring at her. Ducking from the idea of clam chowder—yuck—on an empty stomach. Buckling under the weight of what was to come.
She couldn’t cry, couldn’t give in yet. She hadn’t even gotten to the hard part yet.
“I was wrong,” Mrs. Yamamoto said, clinking something onto the table. “Today is corn chowder, but she also had Jell-o. Orange. That’s a nice one. My favorite. Here, you eat.”
Mercedes sat up and looked at the two bowls, reaching for the gelatin because the soup looked like vomit.
“How am I to react to such an outburst?” Mrs. Garvey said above and behind her. “What does she expect? We can’t ignore our responsibility to the entire community.”
Mercedes set down her spoon. “I have to go,” she said and pushed to her feet. “Here. The copies still have to be made. The rest is on my desk. You handle this whatever way you need to.”
“Whichever,” she heard Mrs. Garvey correct under her breath.
With a little snort, Mercedes responded with a silent, whatever and walked out.
She had to collect Porsha from the pool on her way back to the unit.
“I just got here,” Porsha complained, then lifted her sunglasses and grinned. “Some old perv whistled at me.”
“Lucky you. Listen, the social worker will be at my place any minute. We have to go talk to her.”
Porsha groaned and sat up. “Can’t you do it?”
“She’ll want to hear your plans for the kids,” Mercedes said, stomach flipping.
“I’m thinking my plan is to get a suntan right here while they finish school. We should’ve stayed here with you before.”
“There wasn’t room in the apartment,” Mercedes reminded and quelled a shudder at how long Porsha might stay now that there was an extra bedroom. Her sister had been in her home for twenty-four hours and it was driving Mercedes crazy. Stuff everywhere, the water jug never refilled, not a single dish washed or put away. “Come on.”
Porsha moaned again and climbed off the lounger, picked up her towel and gave it a little shake before wrapping it around the bottom of her thong bikini. “Hey, do you have anything for cramps?” she asked, but touched her forehead.
“I’ll find you something back at the house.” Mercedes waited for her sister to clank out of the gate and join her.
“Look at you, dressed for success,” Porsha said, eyeing Mercedes’s blouse, skirt and heels.
Mercedes had dressed for her power meeting with the Vice-Principal, thinking she might also have to attend the Coconino AGM.
“The social worker’s gonna think you’re a lawyer and I’m a stripper,” Porsha added with a chuckle.
Mercedes smiled weakly.
They walked in silence for a moment, the breeze light, the sun warm, the complex quiet because most people had made their way to the meeting in the front building.
“Ayjia told me Harrison died. That was that writer guy you liked so much? The one who wrote that book you gave me?” Porsha asked.
“That’s right.”
“That’s awful, Merce.” Porsha put her bare arm around Mercedes. She smelled of sun lotion and cigarettes, but the hug felt sincere. “Losing people we care about sucks.”
Mercedes wanted to shrink into a sewer hole and die.
“Hey, Ray finally called back,” Porsha said, dropping the hug to adjust her towel. “He’s still excited about having us come to Phoenix after school finishes.”
Mercedes made a non-committal noise and waved at Shonda as she passed them on the Ring Road. Shonda was climbing from her car in the driveway by the time Mercedes and Porsha reached the house.
“I have never considered dreads to be a good look on anybody,” Porsha murmured, obviously looking for a laugh. For an ally.
Mercedes said nothing, just led both women into the cool interior of the house. “Iced tea?”
“That sounds fabulous,” Shonda said in a tone of relief, and introduced herself to Porsha. “I’ve met the children a few times. I’m really growing to appreciate Dayton’s energy and sense of humor. And Ayjia is such a caring little soul.”
“Yeah, she’s my little hug machine,” Porsha said, accepting the dewy glass Mercedes handed her and taking a seat in the armchair without bothering to change. She crossed her legs and swung her foot.
Shonda sat on one end of the sofa. Mercedes took the other. She sipped once on her syrupy drink then set it aside to knot her hands and let Shonda take the lead.
“So I see your main source of income is the check Dayton’s father sends. Mercedes tells me you lost your apartment because the payment was switched to her.”
“Yeah, can you fix that like, yesterday? Because Ayjia is all over me about her stuffies going missing.”
“I called the building manager this morning,” Mercedes said. “Your things are in storage until the end of this month. I just have to pay the fee and we can get everything.”
“Oh. Cool.” Porsha took a deep pull on her tea. Her foot kicked faster. She wasn’t as calm as she wanted to appear.
Mercedes massaged her hands together, trying to work heat into her cold fingers.
“Now, where do you plan to live once you do that?” Shonda asked Porsha.
“Well, um.” Porsha took another nervous sip. “I’m staying here with the kids while they finish school. That’s important.” She cleared her throat. “Then we’ll be staying with a friend in Phoenix.”
“I see.” Shonda wet her full lips while making notes on her clipboard. “Do you intend to look for work? When do you think you’ll be able to live on your own?”
“Well, um, the hope is obviously that I won’t have to, if things work out the way I want them to with my friend in Phoenix. Know what I mean?”
Shonda nodded thoughtfully and watched Porsha as she asked, “And if things don’t work out?”
“Then, obviously, I figure it out.” Porsha set down her empty drink and re-crossed her legs. “Look, he’s a nice guy. It’s going to be fine. I don’t understand why you’re grilling me like this.”
“I don’t mean to grill you, Porsha,” Shonda said, and Mercedes saw her sister tense. “But because of your absence these last few weeks—”
“I was on vacation. I left my kids with my sister. I didn’t leave them in a dumpster, for God’s sake.”
Actually, she’d left them with their grandmother, which was as good as a dumpster, but Mercedes didn’t say so. She just clutched her bloodless hands together, feeling nausea climb in the back of her throat.
“No, you didn’t. That’s right. You left them with someone who cares about their well-being and that’s great, but because you were absent so long, and Ayjia needed medical care, Mercedes had to take temporary custody. Essentially that put your children in foster care. Yes, they’re with family and this is the best possible scenario for something like this, but the State still has an interest in the welfare of your children.”
“Therefore, I have to pass some kind of test before I can have my kids back?”