“Now, listen here. I don’t fucking lie when it comes to things like babies. You know what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, but I think we should have a test.”
“All right, after the baby is born. We’ll have a fucking test. But I want this baby to be part of Joe’s life. You know I didn’t grow up with a father. I don’t want my baby to grow up without a father. You know, what the fuck, this is important to me. But you know I need money to stay alive. I’m still working and I’m eight months pregnant. I need at least three weeks off to get this baby out.”
“Yeah, I know. But we aren’t sure.”
“How long have you known me? Come on, I just need like a hundred dollars. I just got the electricity bill, and I don’t know if I have the money to pay it. And I got to make repairs on the car, and all kinds of shit.”
“All right, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Okay, that sounds great. I’ll be right over to get it.”
*
It is Kathy’s day off.
She is sitting in her living room wearing a cornflower blue jumpsuit, with her make-up done up pretty.
There is a knock at the door.
It is her son’s father.
His name is Eric.
He sits on the couch.
Eric is thin and looks like a skeezer.
“So I let you fuck me for a week, and you buy me a car, right?” says Kathy.
“Yeah, that’s the deal. I’ll give you two thousand dollars on any car you want.”
“Any car I want.”
“Yeah.”
“All right. Do you have the shit?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
Eric takes out a baggy of coke and dumps it on the table.
Kathy gets some Vicodin and crushes it and mixes it with the coke.
They sniff the coke together.
Kathy can’t fuck unless she is tweaking.
Eric knows that.
After Kathy is plenty high.
She takes her clothes off.
And they fuck.
*
Kathy is at work.
Sitting with Viper.
Kathy says, “Viper, do you think I’m a whore for fucking Eric for the car money?”
“No, I don’t consider it prostitution if you’ve fucked him for free before.”
“That’s what I thought too.”
*
Kathy is seven years old.
She is in the car with her mother.
Her mother is tweaking bad.
They are driving down to the south side to get more drugs.
Kathy’s mother is crying.
Kathy sits peacefully in the passenger seat.
Classic rock is playing on the radio.
Kathy’s mother speaks to her, “You see Kathy, these bitches, they don’t know any better. You know. Like your fucking aunt. She don’t know shit. Yeah, she’s a fucking slut. I think she owes me twenty dollars. I should kick her stupid white ass if she don’t give it to me. Fucking bitch. I gotta get some more shit, Kathy. Mommy got it hard.”
Kathy stares out the window.
Her mother always talks like this.
Kathy doesn’t know what to say to it.
So she just sits there.
Her mother pulls into a parking lot.
Looks at Kathy and says, “Now listen you little bitch, you better be nice to Reggie. He’s got the good shit. All right.”
Kathy’s mother puts her hand on Kathy’s face.
Kathy doesn’t smile.
She is silent.
Her mother pulls out of the parking lot and goes down a side street.
Inside Reggie’s house, several people sit around, tweaking.
The people talk incessantly.
The conversation goes nowhere.
But still they keep talking.
Just a bunch of fucks, shits, and hells, and motherfuckers is all Kathy hears.
Her mother talks to Reggie.
She tells Reggie she has no money.
Reggie points at Kathy.
Kathy’s mother says, “What do you want with her?”
“Just to touch her a little bit, that’s all, I’ll be happy to give you a hundred dollars worth,” says Reggie.
“A hundred dollars worth?”
“Yeah, good?”
“One fifty.”
“All right, one fifty.”
Kathy’s mother walks over to Kathy and says, “Now Kathy, I want you to go with Reggie, and be nice to him. I’m your mother, remember that, so do as I say. Now follow Reggie, and just be nice to him for Mommy okay.”
Kathy looks up at her and says, “All right, Mommy.”
Reggie and Kathy go into the bedroom.
Reggie does no more to Kathy than her mother does at night.
*
In the dressing room at work.
Kathy sitting on the counter.
Viper on the toilet, pissing.
Kathy stares at Viper peeing like she wants to eat her.
Viper notices her stare.
And stares back.
Viper says, “Kathy, you are so fucking sexy.”
“Thank you. I think you’re hot as hell.”
Viper rips off a piece of toilet paper and wipes herself.
She stands and pulls her thong up.
They return to work.
*
Kathy is sitting with a customer at the bar.
He looks at her and says, “I would like to take you home, spread open those legs, and eat you like Thanksgiving Dinner.”
Kathy looks at him, smiles, and says, “How much can you afford?”
*
Kathy is alone at work, in the bathroom.
She sniffs a line off the counter.
Then looks up at the mirror.
She puts her hands on her belly.
The baby is kicking hard.
She stares at her pregnant belly in the mirror.
Kathy thinks. Her thoughts are loud. Fuck, not another one! I can’t take another one! Why won’t this baby just die! Just fucking die! I already have one, and I don’t even like that one! How the fuck am I supposed to deal with another one! Why won’t you just come out!
Kathy punches her belly.
She squeezes it.
But nothing happens. The baby keeps kicking.
She sighs.
Her face melts in the mirror.
Ghosts come through the walls.
They are staring down at her.
Crushing her beneath their boots.
Rich faces.
Faces that have money look at her.
She must look down.
Happy faces.
Clean faces.
Faces untouched by the horrors of the world.
Look down at her.
She must look away.
For she is the filthy, impoverished trash of America.
America, where nothing can be wrong.
For America is always. For Americans are moral and good.
They set the world straight.
Kathy sets her twenties out on the counter.
She has seven twenties.
She lives for those twenties.
She has no bank account.
No savings or checking account.
No Visa or Mastercard.
Just those seven twenties.
She counts them.
Holds them in her hand.
And laughs about those stupid bitches who work in restaurants and retail who don’t make shit.
She makes seven twenties barely working at all.
There is no time in Kathy’s world.
No future, just a timeless present.
Her life only stretches as far as her twenties, and how she can spend those twenties.
Kathy stares at those seven twenties.
She adds up how many twenties it will take to feed her and her son.
How many twenties she can devote to bills.
Then she will know how much she can spend on coke for the evening.
Clocks and calendars, long terms goals, mean nothing to Kathy.
Only that she has enough twenties to get her to the next time she can get more twenties.
*
Eight months earlier.
Kathy is standing in her living room.
Screaming at Joe.