Natashia Deon - Grace

I pick up the last kernel of egg and poke it through my smile, sweep it down my throat with a wash of water, wipe my hands down my apron and leave Albert’s plate on the bar top for when I get back from the toilet. I hop down from my favorite stool and start down the hall to the back.

The gambling parlor door swings open. I cover my mouth so I don’t laugh. He’s dressed in the same clothes he had on yesterday. He slams his fist in the wall and walks up the hallway the other way. I stay quiet. I don’t want to scare him. And I want him to look for me first.

The sunlight from the saloon window traces his arms, between his legs, his straight hips. He still don’t see me. His strut makes me want to touch him. But I stay quiet.

I tiptoe up the hall toward him, glance in the gambling parlor as I pass. Mr. Shepard’s in there collecting money from the floor. His door shuts from a wind gust.

“Naomi!” Jeremy say, coming toward me. “Thank my lucky stars.”

He wraps his arms around me like he don’t care who else see. He pushes me against the wall the way I like it, kissing me.

Stops.

But I don’t want him to stop. I smile and wait for him to say, “Happy birthday.”

He say, “You got that money I gave you?”

I steal kisses from his cheek, his neck.

“That half I gave you?” he say, pulling away from me. “Do you?”

I straighten my clothes and notice how fidgety he seem. Not because of me. Not no surprise he hiding. He’s worried.

“I need it ’cause of that asshole dealer,” he say.

“Mr. Shepard?”

“He won’t lend me anymore.”

“Then maybe it’s time to stop,” I say. “You told me to save our money for Boston.”

“I can win it back,” he say. “I can feel it. One more roll and I’m back in the game. Get us a new home where we going. Boston is where you want?” He puts his hands on my shoulders like we pals. “I tell you what. I’ll start saving the money for you. Investing it, like. For both us.”

“I don’t know what you mean, ‘invest.’”

“Let me do the worrying. You trust me, don’t you, Mimi?”

“It’s my birthday,” I say, smiling, stopping him talking.

“Oh, Mimi. . I’m sorry. Happy birthday, doll.” He grabs my face, kisses the top of my forehead. “I’m going to do something real special for you tonight. Something I planned. Jewelry? You like jewelry? When I’m done with you, you’re gonna be sparkling like a Christmas tree.”

“You don’t have to buy me nothing,” I say. “Maybe you could play me a song or. .”

“Mimi. I need to get back in the game!”

I take our wadded dollars from my stockings and throw it at him.

Instead of asking what’s wrong, he counts it.

“I gave you more than this,” he say.

“I didn’t spend it!”

“This is less than half!”

He finally sees my tears. He pulls me under his chin. “Come here, I’m sorry. Happy birthday. I know you didn’t spend it. It’s just not enough.”

When he lets me go, he leans back against the wall. I go to lay on his chest, say, “What we gon’ do for my birthday?”

“We can’t do nothing now, we’re broke,” he say. “Isn’t that what you said? That this is all there is?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I wish I had more to give you. I don’t know what happened to the rest.”

He kisses my forehead again, holds his lips there when he speaks. “You’re my baby girl. The birthday girl. I wish I had more to give you, too. You know I’d do anything for you.”

I know.

“And you’d do anything for me, too?” he say.

I nod.

“Anything?” he say, hugging me tighter now.

“Anything,” I say.

“Then help me, Mimi.”

I want to help.

“You like Mr. Shepard?”

“I suppose so. . he’s all right,” I say.

“Suck his dick for me.”

“What?”

“Mimi. .”

I slap his face hard as I can.

He say, “He’s always talking about how he never gets none. His wife is too mean. I’m not asking you to have sex with him. He’ll pay you.”

“Jeremy!”

“It’ll be just enough to get back in the game and you said you’d do anything for us. I can win it all back.”

“Get away from me!”

I’m light-headed. Like the wagon I was in hit a dip in the road and I’m sailing through the air, in flight with wheels off the ground, my stomach in my throat, and my mouth waiting for throw-up to come.

“I’m sorry,” he say.

“I don’t want to look at you!”

“Come on now, Mimi.” He catches my hand and stops me. “I’m sorry,” he say. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like I can’t stop.”

“You sick is all I can say!”

“‘Sick’!” he say. “Sick?” His expression turns from hurting to pissed off. “My last gal used to say that. That’s why she’s my last.”

I’m grounded now.

“I thought you wanted to help me. Help us.” He walks away from me this time, back to Mr. Shepard’s door.

“Thought you wanted to help us get out of here,” he say. “Together.”

“But I cain’t do that,” I say.

“I was gonna win the money back,” he say. “Go to Boston, Mimi. . take vows.” He turns to me, “I’ve never asked a woman to be my bride.”

I don’t know what to say. He leans back against the wall, hanging his head. Won’t look at me now. Instead, he turns to that wall, beats his forehead against it once, twice, rests it there, his arms fall to his sides, then he twists around forward, looks up at the ceiling. I grab his hand through his fingers. He’s crying.

“I never wanted to do anything to hurt you, Mimi. I would’ve forgave you for it. I would’ve. Now you have to forgive me for asking.”

I wipe my own tears. “I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about it now. There’s nothing wrong with staying around this brothel all our lives and not getting married.”

“You cain’t sell more of your family things?”

“It’s gone, Mimi. Everything! I bet it all for us. Guess I was wrong about you being my lucky charm.” He throws my hand and walks away.

“Jeremy?”

My future leaving me.

“Jeremy!”

He’s about to turn the corner into the saloon.

“Tell me what to do!” I say.

“What?” he say, sniffing his tears and coming back.

“Tell me how to do it.”

I swear he’s floating back down this hall to me, keeping his eyes on me like he loves me. Like we don’t belong to this place, these women, this time. He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “I guess it would be like tasting sweets,” he say. “Like what I do for you all the time, but different.”

I watch the floor.

“It don’t matter anyway, Mimi, I won’t ask you to do it.”

“You want this money?” I say. “Just one more hand and you can win it all back?” I walk him back up the hall with me to the saloon.

“What are you doing, Mimi?”

I reach over Sam’s bar and pour me a shot of whiskey and finish it like a drunk would, feeling it warming my cheeks. “You said you want this money?”

I start back to the gambling parlor and he reaches for my hand trying to stop me but I shake him loose, walk down the hallway alone. The walk feels longer this time.

I don’t go through Mr. Shepard’s door right away. I wait. Then open it. Let it close behind me. Locked.

It looks different in here during the day.

Empty with only Mr. Shepard here.

The chalk lines that were drawn on the floor last night from a game of craps look like a child’s game in this light. The solid wood tables that were beaten by men’s fists only hours ago look feeble and small and only fit for light reading. This room’s a library. And I’m its newest fixture.