“It’s over.” Sunita Habersham stands outside my open front door, and this is the first thing she says to me. Tal is upstairs, showering in expectation of the arrival of her favorite adult.
“It’s over?” I ask, and I can’t believe she set this up, made a formality of it, involving Tal, just to dispose of me.
“Elijah, not you. We’re officially done. That segment of my life is over. Two years. Two years of going nowhere, on purpose, over.”
“Over,” I tell myself. I don’t seem to believe it yet.
“But I don’t want to talk about it. After I come in this door, I don’t want to talk about it. Not tonight. Not ever. I’m not carrying the past with me. So you want to ask anything, do it now.”
“Did you love him?” I want to know. Not to torture either one of us. But if she did love him, and she just dumped him like that after two years, that scares me even more.
“No. I don’t think so. That was kind of the point,” Sunita Habersham says, and before I can ask her about the man who came before Elijah she pushes past me and walks in the door.
—
“The first boy I kissed was Lawrence Levy. You don’t understand; he was so hot,” Tal insists. We don’t challenge her. “It was on a school trip to the Smithsonian.”
“I don’t want to hear this,” I tell her.
“It was on the way back to Philly, back of the bus, in the dark. I sat by the window. He was pretty popular and the whole time I was kissing him I was totally flattered, you know? That he even chose to sit next to me? That he waited the whole school year for this moment? And then, when he acted like a jerk afterward, I remembered, ‘Oh yeah, it was assigned seating.’ ”
“He told everyone about it, didn’t he? Spread rumors, told everyone it was more, didn’t he? That little bastard Larry Levy.” I’m furious with this kid. The meal’s evaporated, but the bourbon has sustained a position on the table for an hour. I take a sip and I want to hear more about this faceless Lawrence Levy. It’s only been a few years, I’m sure. I could still call his parents.
“That happened to, like, two other girls that trip. But not me. This was worse: he told no one. Not a soul.”
“No!” Sun gasps. Her bare feet are on my lap, and she leans over now all the way so that she can hug Tal’s shoulders, tickling her in the process. We are one squirming, warm snake on kitchen chairs.
“It’s serious! He told no one. Not one person. I couldn’t either, because people would have thought I made it up. He never spoke to me again, and didn’t brag on me at all. Not one dirty rumor. I was totally scandal-worthy! I am total brag material.”
“Kimet brags about you.” Sun releases her with a pat and a wink for me. “He’s always, ‘My girlfriend Tal says,’ and ‘My girlfriend Tal was.’ ”
“No he isn’t.” This is what my daughter looks like blushing. I love that. I love love. I don’t even get scared that Tal’s found it. I don’t even say, Don’t get pregnant. Instead, I offer, “Well, he’s a talented kid. And I certainly enjoy his company more than his dad’s.”
“Oh, his dad’s a bastard,” Sunita Habersham announces. I try to give her a look to tone down the language, but Tal chimes in with “Total bastard” before I can.
“How do you know?” I can’t imagine Sunita Habersham perusing the halls of the Umoja School on her own.
“That jerk formed a group that’s been trying to get the Mélange Center shut down for months. He’s called parents, congressmen, municipal offices. The city might have stopped trying to evict us if he hadn’t been pushing on them.”
“Spider says we’re not getting evicted,” I tell Tal. She has four months of high school left now. We should be getting acceptance letters soon; the possibilities will unfold. Just a little time, and then she’s gone. Long term, Roslyn can take her tribe to the promised land, if need be. I just need a few months of stability, because that’s what Tal needs.
“No, we’re definitely being evicted.” Sun says it so casually the statement is clearly beyond debate.
“She doesn’t mean this year,” I assure Tal, based on no other information than an imaginary document found in my brain in a folder marked ESSENTIALS.
“Oh no, I mean right now. The cops are at the compound with a dispersal order. I don’t think they’re going to leave this time. All my stuff’s packed in the car, it’s horrible.”
I forget Tal is a teenager. Sometimes, I think of her as a child, look at her and see all the younger ages I missed. Often, because of her wit and feigned worldly manner, I also see Tal the young adult she is moments away from being. But when she lets out a scream at the top of her lungs, only breathing in to yell “No,” in one elongated syllable, I see a teenager. “This cannot happen, are you kidding? Are you messing with me? Pops!”
“You’re not kidding?” And when Sun’s head shakes, the last of my composure dissolves. “How could you not say this as soon as you got here?”
“I didn’t want to ruin the meal,” Sunita offers quietly. Before I can respond, Tal continues screaming, louder.
“Pops! You have to do something!”
“Just stop! There’s nothing I can do!” My volume, as unexpected as it is for both of us, calms Tal. Or at least the shock shuts her up for a bit.
“Actually, you can.” Sun looks at me. Tal looks at Sun. Sun keeps talking. I start bracing. “The community needs someplace to go. Temporarily.”
“Come here! They can all come here! This house is so big! And the land! Everyone could fit here!”
“Enough!” I try to match Tal’s volume again, but can’t.
“There’s more than enough space on the lawn for all the trailers!” Tal continues, giving away everything before Sun can even bring herself to ask.
“It’s not that simple,” I tell her.
“Yes it fucking is.”
“Go to your room!” I fall back on.
“My room is a tent, in the dining room,” Tal points out. Literally pointing out, over to it.
“Then go upstairs and take a shower before bed.”
“I already got a shower,” Tal says, but she gets up and heads for the steps before I get the chance to tell her to take another one.
I make Sun come with me into the kitchen. I don’t even do it with words. I just walk to the sink, turn and lean against it, and wait there silently until she gets up from the table and joins me.
“You knew.” I want to whisper, I want to scream, I manage to do both. “That’s why you’re here tonight. Not for us. Not for me. Roslyn sent you here, didn’t she? It’s about the land. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? How long? That’s all I want to know. How long has she been planning this?”
“Warren? Listen to yourself. You’re upset, I understand. So I’m going to choose to not get offended. But you’re having a paranoid episode right now.”
“I saw her — or heard her, at least. Roslyn. Here, in this house, scoping out the property. Creeping around in the dark, going into the rooms upstairs, oh yeah I heard her and I get it now. She wants this place, doesn’t she?”
“Wait, why the hell was Roslyn in your house at night, upstairs?”