“Uh-huh, whatever we want.”
Rosalie rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered on her lips. She couldn’t wait until they arrived in Baltimore to start their new life together. She couldn’t wait to be his wife. Things would probably be rocky in the beginning as they scrimped and saved. Clyde was going to take on a job at his cousin’s auto shop and she was going to start classes at the community college.
But it was going to be worth it. Her heart fluttered in confirmation.
“Tell me about Bmore,” she requested. She leaned forward so the AC would blow in her face. Air sputtered from the vents and cooled her skin, breezing through her fluffy, tightly coiled curls in equal measure. “You said your cousin’s place isn’t far from the auto shop?”
“Couple blocks. One stop on the subway.”
“I’ve never been on a subway before.”
“It’s a’ight. Nothing special.”
The eager lilt in Rosalie’s tone revealed her age. The immaturity she often tried to hide from Clyde. Once she saw him shrug off the subway, she cleared her throat and tapered her excitement. If he didn’t think it was anything special, she probably shouldn’t either. He knew what he was talking about.
Clyde must’ve sensed her sudden shift in mood. He cut her a sideways glance, giving her a once over. His hand found hers in her lap. She stared at his thicker fingers curling around hers, and almost smiled.
“You’ve gotta chill, Ros. You’ll see when we get there.”
“I know. I can’t wait.”
“Just sit back. We’ll be there tomorrow. And you’ll be Mrs. Mackie.”
“Rosalie Mackie sounds good.”
“Uh-huh. Better than Underwood.”
“Way better than Underwood,” Rosalie agreed, staring off outside the window. The surrounding green of the marshland was invisible to her as instead she disappeared in her head and imagined their small, intimate courtroom ceremony. They didn’t need anybody else there. It was their lives becoming one, no one else’s. Besides, eloping was romantic—an endearing story she could tell their children someday.
Clyde dialed up the music, the speakers so loud they caused a vibration in the car. They continued down the road leading out of St. Aster, whizzing by the termite-bitten town sign at the border. For a second time that warm summer morning, Rosalie said goodbye. She twisted in her seat to look at her past shrinking behind her, and she smirked, certain she would never be back again.
Chapter One
Seven years later…
Five dollars and sixty-two cents. The dismal number stared up at Rosalie from the light of her phone screen. She labored a breath and pressed the “make a transfer” button on the banking app. The quick transfer between her savings account to her checking account took less than a minute, but it didn’t make it any less demoralizing. She couldn’t borrow from her savings forever.
For a while now, she had been robbing Peter to pay Paul. Cancelling a cell phone service to afford an electric bill. Asking for an extension on a school loan payment to keep from losing the car. Whatever it took to feed and clothe Remi. Her brief study in college as a finance major helped her stretch pennies as long as possible. Though she struggled, she knew she would figure it out eventually. In the meantime, she needed to keep her head on her shoulders and put on a brave face.
She smiled at the five-year-old in the car’s rearview mirror, offering motherly reassurance. Remi stared back, dark brown eyes blank and little mouth curved into a frown. Since their lives disintegrated into ruins, she hadn’t bothered to hide her unhappiness; she was too much of a precocious child to do so.
Rosalie couldn’t blame her. Things had been bad for a couple years now, even before Clyde abandoned them…
“Mommy, I’m hungry.”
“I know, baby. We’re almost there. Grandmommy Lacie said she’d cook us dinner.”
“But I’m hungry now.”
Rosalie staved off a sigh as she reached for the cheap polka-dotted tote bag perched in the front passenger seat. She called it her mommy bag, a wealth of lifesavers when on the go with Remi. It had moist towelettes for sticky situations, juice boxes and water bottles, coloring books and crayons, and miniature baggies carefully portioned with snacks like pretzels and apple slices.
“Here you go.”
“I don’t want raisins.”
Remi turned her cheek to the offering, stuck in the car seat or else she’d likely skip off. She liked to do that these days in a show of defiance, protesting Clyde being gone and Rosalie being broke. Rosalie understood why she behaved this way, even if it drove her stress levels through the roof.
At age five, she’d caused Ma the same type of headaches. If anything, Remi was karma. Despite her best efforts, she’d wound up in the exact same predicament as Ma after all. She was an Underwood at heart.
“It’s raisins or cheese crackers, Remi. That’s all we have left ’til we reach Grandmommy’s,” Rosalie said, starting the engine. They sat parked beside gas pump number three, off the shoulder of the highway at another random truck stop. After a while, they blurred together, no different from any others. “Another hour, and we’ll be there.”
“There’s food in the store.” Remi pointed toward the window, where through the glass, she could see the gas station convenience store some twenty feet away.
“Remi, do you remember what we talked about the other day?”
She stubbornly shook her head side to side, her braided ponytails swinging at her ears.
“Remi.”
“Uh-huh. We don’t have any money for stores.”
“Bingo,” Rosalie confirmed. She stared at her in the rearview mirror again, observing her puckered pout. “But we will soon, okay? In our new home, I’m going to work really hard, and we’re going to go back to how things were.”
“But with no Daddy?”
Rosalie’s breath stalled, clogged in her throat. “Daddy’s not around right now. We’ll be okay anyway. Me and you.”
“And Grandmommy Lacie.”
“Right, and Grandmommy Lacie,” repeated Rosalie. Nerves swarmed her stomach at any mention of Ma, buzzing in a frenzy crazier than bees to honey. It had been years since they’d seen each other, and up until a couple weeks ago, just as long since they’d even said a word. She hated to come crawling back.
Now she was a failure just like the other women in the family. The first phone call she made to Ma was full of awkward silences, where she closed her eyes, gave up her pride, and cringed through admitting fault. Ma relished in her failure. While she didn’t directly say the words, Rosalie knew better than to believe some part of Ma wasn’t pleased; however small, a kernel of satisfaction silently gloated, “I told you so.”
On the passenger seat, next to her mommy bag, her phone pinged its text message notification. In a speak-of-the-devil moment, Rosalie reached for the phone and swiped to read the message from Ma.
Are y’all almost here? How far out?
Rosalie glanced at the GPS mounted on her dash and texted a short reply. Ma responded instantly, her phone pinging again in her hand.
It would be nice if you kept me informed…