Junior
by Belinda Anderson

Mommy's painting her fingernails.
That means we're going to visit an uncle.
I hate fingernail polish.
It stinks and it makes her fingers look like they're dripping blood.
The lipstick comes next. Then she colors her eyes.

I hate it when Mommy puts on her going-out face. When I was little, before I started second grade, I'd cry and beg her not to change her face. When we stay home, she makes macaroni and cheese and plays Chinese Checkers with me. When we go to an uncle's, she acts like she doesn't hardly know me.

"Hurry up and get ready, Junior," she says. She yanks her brush through her yellow hair, then sprays it with more stinky stuff.

I wonder which uncle we're going to see. It doesn't matter. None of them like me. At first, they get mad when they see me. But Mommy tells them she can't afford a baby-sitter, I won't be any trouble at all, they'll see. I usually go sit in the kitchen with my coloring book and crayons. If I'm good, Mommy will buy me a chocolate milkshake on the way home, even if it is past my bedtime.

Mommy doesn't say a word in the car. Usually, she turns on the radio and sings, and asks me if she don't sound just like Wynona. I'd like to ask if I can play the radio, but I'm afraid she'll get mad and slap me. Most times, I'm better off if I just keep quiet. I look out the window at the yellow and red leaves dropping from the trees.

Mommy parks the car, and I grab my dinosaur book bag and follow her into an apartment building. This looks like a nice place. Maybe I'll get lucky. One time, an uncle ordered a pepperoni pizza. Just for me. He was real nice, that UPS guy.

I can tell this is going to be a bad time as soon as the man answers the door. He looks sick. His eyes are red, his face is all stubbly, and he kind of smells.

"Hello, Jason," Mommy says.

The man gets a mad look on his face. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Junior, meet your father."

I feel like somebody just kicked me in the stomach. I didn't know I had a daddy. I thought I just had uncles. The man looks like he just got kicked, too. He stares at me like I'm some kind of weird insect.

"The resemblance is something, isn't it?" Mommy says. "Same coal-black hair, same begging blue eyes."

"You've come looking for more money."

"No, I come looking for you to do right by your son. No reason for you not to, now that Donna's gone."

"Don't." The man's voice sounds like a scary dog growling. "Don't you speak of her."

"Now you listen here." Mommy can sound scary when she wants to. "Don't go acting like I did this all by myself. You ain't no saint, and you know it. I'd like to know how many there's been since me. Or before me, for that matter. I ain't surprised your wife left. I imagine she caught on to your lies just like I did. You ever wonder how I felt, all these years, living every day with a miniature version of you?"

The man raises his hand and I'm afraid he's going to hit Mommy. But she puffs up like an old hissing cat and keeps right on. "All that's beside the point. I'm going to say my piece, and then I'm gone. I've got a man willing to marry me, but he don't want kids. I've taken care of Junior all these years, now it's your turn."

She pushes me through the door, and I bump into the man. I turn around and see her face color's all wet and runny. "I deserve a fresh start. You understand, don't you?" I don't know if she's talking to me, or the man.

Then she's gone. The man takes off down the stairs after her, hollering. I run after him, crying, "Mommy, wait! Wait!" But she really is gone. I follow the man back into his apartment. I sit down on a sofa and wait for something to happen.

The man flops down in a chair and rubs his hands over his face. I just sit, trying to be as quiet as I can. Finally, the man looks at me and says, "Well, Buddy, we're in a hell of a fix."

I figure I should say something. "Yes, sir."

"I need a drink. Do you need a drink?"

"If you have plenty." I use this answer a lot, to show people I'm not any trouble.

The man laughs. "Oh, yeah. I got plenty." He walks into the kitchen and comes back with two bottles. He gives me a Pepsi and starts drinking his. It's the same brand of beer my Mommy drinks.

He seems like he could be a little friendly. I wait for him to empty his bottle, then I say, "Are you really my daddy?"

The man laughs and shrugs his shoulders. "Probably. I need another beer." He goes into the kitchen and comes back with another bottle. "How you set on Pepsi?"

"Fine."

The man looks at me. "You're a pretty good kid. You might turn out all right if you had decent parents." He hunkers down in front of me, takes a big gulp out of his bottle. "Too bad your daddy's a loser and your momma just ran out on you."

"Mommy didn't run out. She just wants you to baby-sit me for awhile." Sometimes Mommy has a hard time getting the uncles to let me hang around.

"Oh, kid." He grabs me and hugs me to his chest. He starts to cry. "I got left behind, too." I hold my Pepsi real tight so it doesn't spill.

He gets up and walks around and around. "Yes, sir, Buddy, we're in a hell of a fix." He walks around some more. He turns on the television, real loud, then turns it off again. Next door, music starts thumping. He pounds on the wall. "Turn that damn stereo down!" The music just gets louder.

Outside, a dog starts barking. He yanks open a window and yells, "Shut the hell up!" The dog barks even louder. The man jerks around, then grabs a baseball from a shelf. "I'll knock the yip right out of that damn mutt." Then he notices me again.

"Don't worry, Buddy, I ain't going to do anything." His voice is regular again. "That's my trouble, I never do what I say." He brings the baseball over to me. "See all them signatures? I was on my way, Buddy. I had a hell of an arm. I was leaving Bluefield for bigger things. Then I got hurt. All it takes is one mistake, Buddy, and you're screwed over for good." He puts the ball back on the shelf and stares at it awhile. Finally, he says, "I got to get cleaned up." He just walks off and leaves me sitting there.

Maybe he won't mind if I color. I take the Pepsi bottle into the kitchen. Then I open my book bag, and I feel like I just got kicked again. Mommy put clothes in there. And a bunch of papers that look important.

The man is back, clean and shaved. "Come on, Buddy. We're going for a visit." Maybe he's going to find Mommy. I grab my book bag and run after him.

We don't find Mommy. Instead, I'm sitting in some old lady's kitchen, drinking cocoa. I think she might be one of those grandmas like the kids at school have. She's talking to herself. "I don't have a thing a child would care about. Not one potato chip or cookie. Oh, wait. Here." She drags out a box of saltines and a jar of peanut butter. She makes up a whole plate of peanut butter and crackers and sets it on the table in front of me. "There you go."

I take another drink of cocoa, waiting for her to start eating. "Don't you like crackers?" she asks.

"If you have plenty." I have to be careful not to seem like I want too much.

"I fixed all this for you."

"Really?"

"Really. You just take your time. I'll be back." She walks into her living room, and I hear her talk to the man. My daddy. I take a cracker and lick the peanut butter before I crunch it. It tastes so good. I eat another. And another. Then I notice the voices are getting louder. I creep over to the doorway, where I can hear every word.

"You want me to do what?" The old lady sounds mad.

"I want you to help me raise the boy, Momma."

"I'm too old to start in on another family. Besides, look how you turned out."

"You taught me to do the right thing, and for once that's what I'm trying to do. But, I don't know where to start. You see how he is. The kid's afraid of everything."

They both just sit there. Then the old lady says, "The mother just left?"

"Didn't even hug him good-bye."

I can't help it. I start crying. "I want my mommy" Then I start screaming. "I want my mommy! I want my mommy!"

"Oh my God," my daddy says.

The old lady grabs me and sits down in a rocking chair. "I want my mommy!" I know I might get hit for hollering, but I can't help it. I'm afraid of her. She's got spots and her skin folds up funny. Her hair looks like salt and pepper mixed up. I keep on crying, and she keeps on rocking and saying, "It's all right."

She doesn't have any fake color on her face. Her lap is really warm. And she smells a little like the inside of my book bag. "It's all right," the old lady says. "You're going to be all right." She takes a tissue from a pocket and wipes my nose.

I look over at my daddy. He's hunched up, his hands over his face. "I can't deal with this," he says.

"Well, you're going to have to," the old lady says quietly. "This little boy needs you." Nobody says anything, and she keeps rocking. She looks like she's thinking real hard. Then, very slowly, she sets me down. "Boys, we got work to do."

I don't know what she's talking about it. She asks my daddy, "Does this child have a coat?"

"Well, uh, I don't guess so," he says.

"Never mind." The old lady goes to a closet and pulls out one of those scratchy sweaters. She buttons it on me, rolling up the sleeves. "Come on."

When we get outside, she tells my daddy to get the rakes out of the garage. When he comes back, she says, "By the time you all get these leaves raked in a pile, I'll have supper ready." I look around her yard. There must be two million leaves. At least.

"Right now?" my daddy asks. He looks at her like she might be crazy.

"You got someplace you'd rather be?"

"No, ma'am."

The old lady looks at me. "You reckon you could work up an appetite for meat loaf and mashed potatoes?" I nod.

"Well, Buddy, this is another fine mess you've got us in," my daddy says to me as the old lady heads inside. I stare at the ground, wondering what I've done wrong now. "Relax," he says. "It's just a joke. Reckon we might as well get started."

"I don't know what to do."

"Watch the master at work."

"Like this?" I drag the rake over the leaves.

"You got it, Buddy."

The pile gets bigger and bigger. Daddy puts the rakes back. The old lady comes out, and I wonder what she's going to do with all those leaves.

"Perfect," she says. "You boys did a fine job." She looks at me, waves a hand at the pile and says, "Be my guest."

I don't know what she wants me to do. "Jump," she says. "Jump." I still don't understand. She turns to my daddy. "Maybe you'd better show him."

"Not in my good pants--"

"You two are a real pair," the old lady says. All of a sudden, she throws up her arms and falls on the leaves. "Come on in," she tells me. "I didn't even break a hip." She swishes her arms around, throwing leaves up in the air. "Doesn't this look like fun?"

"I don't want to." I look over at my daddy. He's not doing it.

"What the hell." He flops down on the other side of the pile. He starts laughing and waving at me. "Come on, Buddy. Jump. Don't worry, I'll catch you."

"Jump," the old lady says.

Both of their arms reach for me. They want me. I close my eyes and jump.