Page 76 of Queen of Nothing

I know some numbers by heart, like Nonna’s.

I called her often from Bluestone, so it printed into my brain over the years.

I wonder how bad it would be if I called her.

Just to talk.

Just to feel her warmth.

I wonder if the sound of her voice would feel the same as her hugs.

I think even if I called Grandmother Ethel, I would break down in tears.

That’s how bad it is, the homesickness haunting me. That I even consider calling Grandmother Ethel.

But really, if I was going to get out of the car and make a call, would it be to anyone but Mother?

Just the thought of her doubles me over.

The steering wheel digs into my forehead—and the violence of a sob rattles me.

I want to go home. I want so badly to go home.

But all I can do is fight back the sobs, and snivel, and wipe my cheeks, before I drive off and head to Ms Brown’s house, the only (unofficial) daycare in town.

We don’t send Sal there too often.

Sometimes Serena needs a break to recover from her lassitude limit.

And I’m working almost every day, so we send Sal to the old run-down house at the end of Fair Street, the house with the rotten porch that’s splintered and stained.

Ms Brown’s house is full of random kids and babies from around town, mixed in with her own three grandchildren.

I’m pretty sure she just smokes cigarettes on the porch most of the day with her son who chews and spits out tobacco.

It’s not ideal.

But there is not always another option when Serena passes out from throwing up for too long.

I’m barely through the door when I hear Sal’s familiar cry, “Auntie Em! Auntie Em, Auntie Em!”

Little legs and all, Sal rushes at me, pen streaks all over his hands.

My practiced smile is empty of the fatigue that weighs me down.

I drop to a crouch and spread my arms—and he smacks right into me.

A sticky, smelly mess.

Kids.

I don’t love them.

I love Sal.

But I don’t love the smell of spilled milk that’s wafting from his overalls, I don’t love the mysterious stickiness on his hands or the warble of his voice as he still shouts my name over and over.

Hooking one arm around his middle, I hoist him off the floor.