“It’s time for you to go,” she says in a tone that leaves no room for discussion.
I slip into the living room to retrieve my dog, pausing to give Janie the tightest squeeze.
“You’re going home, Auntie?”
“Yep,” I say, my vision swimming. I hate this: fighting with my mom, fighting with Audrey, worrying that my time with Janie is going to be dramatically reduced. Because I can’t stop seeing Mati—I just can’t, no matter what Mom takes away, no matter what Aud threatens.
He’s a star, throwing light and warmth into my life, and I won’t give him up.
Not until I have to.
I kiss Janie’s soft hair. “I love you, girlie.”
“See you soon, Auntie!”
My eyes spill a waterfall of tears as Bambi and I walk out the door.
MATI
Baba’s coughing wakes me.
His hacking is nothing new.
It is as if he has swallowed metal:
iron, nickel, tin, steel.
A bucketful of nuts and bolts,
rattling behind his ribs.
I should check on him,
but I am in no mood to face Mama.
She has been chilly since I
came home from the park yesterday.
Her disappointment is explicit,
though I am not sure I care.
The coughing continues.
I hear movement in the kitchen.
A slamming cupboard door,
rushing water, hurried footsteps.
Mama calls my name,
her voice tattered with worry.
“Go to the market,” she says.
“Buy honey. And peppermint.
