“Oh, were you waiting?” I fake smile. Nia pushes past me and slams the bathroom door behind her.
Just before I get to our room, Granddaddy calls, “KB?” His voice is coming from the living room, so I trudge down the hall and past the kitchen with the little square table.
“Yes?”
“Come sit down with me.” Granddaddy pats the seat beside him on the couch. I sit, hoping I ain’t in trouble for pretending to use the bathroom when Nia had to go.
“I been thinking,” starts Granddaddy, “bout what you might wanna do tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I ask, cautious.
“Tomorrow,” says Granddaddy, “for your birthday.”
I smile. I bet Momma told him, but I wonder when. I ain’t heard Granddaddy talk to Momma since we been here, even though I figure they gotta be talking sometimes. How else would Momma be checking on us?
“I ain’t thought bout it,” I answer, cause that’s the truth. Nobody ain’t ever asked me what I wanna do for my birthday.
“Well, gon’ and think bout it now. We can do whatever you like.” He smiles and pats my knee, then turns back to watching TV.
If somebody had asked me this question back in Detroit, I bet I woulda had a bunch of ideas. Like beg Momma to take us to the Detroit Zoo. Or invite my only friends from school, Chantelle and Rhonda, over for a sleepover. Maybe even visit my favorite library to check out some books. But I ain’t really got no friends here in Lansing, cept the white kids that I’m keeping secret from Granddaddy, and the Black kids I met at the pool but don’t even know how to get in touch with again. Don’t seem like either of those gon’ be an option.
I tap my finger against my chin and think bout stuff I like to do in Lansing. I ain’t really like the mall as much as Nia, and the pool was fun, but I don’t wanna pick nothin’ that’s gon’ let Nia be with her friends all day. This birthday gon’ be bout me. Suddenly, I get an idea.
“Granddaddy, do Lansing got a Pizza Land?” I pick it cause it’s a place I know Nia hates. She says it’s for babies. We only been to Pizza Land twice in Detroit. Once was a birthday party for a girl in my class I ain’t even know, and once was a day when Momma took me and Nia there right after school, and we stayed straight through lunch and dinner instead of going home to Daddy. It’s got pizza and slides and games. Perfect for a birthday.
“That big place with the cartoon cat on the door?” Granddaddy asks.
I nod, enthusiastic. “Cheesin’ Chuck!” Last time we went, a stuffed-suit Cheesin’ Chuck walked around giving kids high fives and free tokens. I chased him and got more tokens than any of them kids, while Nia sat with Momma and frowned.
“Okay, I know that place. It’s not too far from the new bookstore. Maybe we can stop by there after?” Granddaddy winks and my smile grows even bigger.
“That sounds like a great idea,” I say, tryna be cool like this ain’t gon’ be the best birthday I ever had. Only thing might make it better is if Momma would come. But I know she can’t, so instead, I can’t help myself but hope that Nia gon’ remember my birthday this time.
* * *
I wake up early the next morning, even though I barely slept all night. I can’t remember ever being this excited bout anything. I look around for Nia, but she’s already got out the bed and left the room. I bet she’s planning a surprise birthday breakfast for me. I hurry and get dressed, then run to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I can take a shower later, but for now, I can’t wait to get my birthday started.
When I skip into the kitchen it’s with a huge smile on my washed face. Granddaddy is sittin’ at the table with his coffee, like always.
“Good morning,” I sing.
“Well, good morning to you, birthday girl!” Granddaddy pats a chair and I sit down beside him.
“Where’s Nia?” I ask. She ain’t in the kitchen, and I don’t see or smell no breakfast cooking, neither.
“That friend of hers came by this morning to see if she could go out for a bit,” says Granddaddy. When he sees the frown growing on my face, he adds, “She’s gon’ be back in time for your birthday celebration, she promised.”
I nod with my lips pressed tight. Figures that Nia would leave today, before I could even wake up.
I open the pantry, where I find one last packet of oatmeal in the box. I microwave it and take it, plain, back to the table. Each spoonful is thick and bland on my tongue. I eat slow to make myself consider each rotten bite. Just like each rotten birthday. I don’t know why I thought this one was gon’ be any different.
Just then, the phone rings. I look over at Granddaddy, expect him to answer it, but he don’t move. Just sips his coffee, slow.
“I’ll get it,” I half say, half ask. I ain’t ever answered Granddaddy’s phone before, but he don’t object. I pick up the beige receiver from its cradle on the wall and put it up to my ear.
“Hello?” I wonder what I should do if I don’t know the person on the other end. Sometimes Momma makes me screen her calls—which later I learned is just a fancy way of saying tell her who is on the phone before she decides if she wanna talk. I don’t like doin’ that cause I ain’t good at thinking so fast on the spot. It might be easier if she just told me the whole list of people she don’t wanna talk to before I pick up the phone, so I could know.
But I do know the voice on the other end.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, sweet Kenyatta, happy birthday to you.” Momma’s voice, when she sings my special birthday song, is light and sweet and floats in the air like a helium-filled balloon. A smile stretches the whole way cross my face.
“Thanks, Momma.” I try to seem casual, when truly that one little verse meant so much. Most days here I get through without missing Momma too much. But I’m happy she knows today ain’t one of them days.
“Birthday plans, big eleven-year-old girl?” Momma asks. I wonder if she already knows but is pretending not to know so I can say. Either way, I play along enthusiastically.
“Granddaddy’s taking me to Pizza Land and the bookstore,” I reply, then add, “And Nia, too.” Momma’s always fighting Nia to make her be nice to me, which I think makes it worse. So, I don’t mention to Momma that Nia ain’t here now. I don’t want her to start that same fight.
“That sounds like fun,” Momma says. I can hear her smile through the receiver, clinking bells being rung in a row. One of my favorites, of all her smiles.
“Yeah.” My voice drops cause I hope it don’t make her too sad that this is the first time she’s missed either of our birthdays.
“Well, you have fun.” Momma’s voice trails and I think it’s already too late to keep her from being sad. “Eat an extra slice of pizza for me.” The smile is back, but the one that hangs on her face limp like a too-big dress. I twist the phone cord between my fingers and listen to Momma’s breathing on the other end.
“I will, Momma.” I try to think of something else to say, something good to make her happy. But all I can think of is Nia and Jesse and the little sounds I heard coming from her mouth when he lifted her dress.