Finally, approaching footsteps, then a long pause. Angel can feel herself being watched from behind the dark windows. She swallows.
Lizette opens the door, regards Angel through the security screen, then unlocks that, too. “Hey,” she says, her tone flat and unsurprised, as if they’d planned this, then turns into the dark of the house without saying anything, leaving Angel to shut the door against the night. Lizette is in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt. At the end of the hall, the light is on in her room. In the unlit living room, the couch is gone, and the table, too. As Angel follows Lizette through the house, she steps around piles on the floor—papers and clothing, cardboard moving boxes, a wadded blanket. Mercedes’s crib has been moved out here, and Angel sees a dark hump inside.
In Lizette’s room, the quilted L is still on the wall, but the place looks pillaged. Full black garbage bags are everywhere. One already has holes in it where hangers poke through.
“Wow,” Angel says lamely. “You’re almost packed.”
“Yeah,” says Lizette, looking around. In the light, Lizette’s skin is clay-like, her beautiful eyes heavy. Messy strands have loosened from her ponytail, which looks unwashed.
“Oh, Lizette.” Angel steps toward her.
Without preamble or small talk, they’re in each other’s arms. It’s not what Angel has been longing for all these weeks: slow and close and gentle. Lizette is rough with her—the biting kisses make Angel catch her breath—and in response Angel is rough with Lizette. It all takes place under the blazing overhead light.
After, they doze, until, from the crumple of Angel’s jeans, her phone blares. We are fam-i-ly! Angel detangles herself and lunges for the phone, but misses her dad’s call.
“Hang on.” She pulls her shirt on, slips out the door to the bathroom. She’s about to call back when the texts come through, one, two, three, four. Where RU? Ur boy Ryan dropped C off. Where RU?????? WHERE U AT DAMMIT???????
Thank you, God, thank you, thank you. Angel leans against the cold mirror on the back of the door. Watch him tonight, k? Home in the morning.
Clearly Lizette’s brother was in charge of the cleaning, because the bathroom is wrecked: the toilet paper roll empty, toothpaste and cosmetics smeared in the sink, the trash can smelly and overflowing. A dry, browned maxi pad is stuck to the tile. Pinching the edges, Angel peels it off and balances it atop the trash. She tries to scrub out the sink, but there’s no hot water, and she gives up.
Angel steps back down the dark hall. She moves quietly, so as not to wake Mercedes in her crib, or Selena, if she’s home. Lizette rouses. “There you are,” she says, blinking under the light. She scoots to make room for Angel, lifts the sheet to welcome her.
Angel shudders against Lizette. “I’m cold.” She pushes her face into Lizette’s smooth shoulder.
Lizette pulls her closer. “Mmm,” she says, and just this sound is so affectionate that Angel is comforted.
Angel touches the clean skin beside a new red cut on Lizette’s arm. It’s ragged and ugly. “When did you do this?” she asks faintly. “Why?”
Lizette shakes Angel off. “None of your business.”
Again, Angel imagines a scenario in which Lizette and Mercedes come to live with them. She might be able to convince her dad, she really thinks she could. They have an extra room now. With this thought, a hot pain spreads in her. In their house, Lizette will be locked down, safe. They can help each other with child care, with GED prep. They don’t need Smart Starts! Together they can move forward.
“But why are you hurting yourself?” Lizette is receding, and Angel is suddenly furious. “Why haven’t you called me back? Why have you been ignoring me?”
Lizette flops onto her back, yanks the sheet over her breasts. “Leave it, Angel.”