Hummingbird by Jude Angelini

Author:Jude Angelini
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rare Bird Books
Published: 2017-07-20T20:04:48+00:00

popeye

Mom’s been wanting to eat at this restaurant for forever, so that’s what we’re doing. It’s new, they do wood-oven cooking. She can smell the logs burning on the way to her job.

She put a little money aside for us to go. It’s her, Rachel, Joelle, and me.

Joelle’s our little sister. We got different dads. She’s five years old, ten years younger than me.

We roll up to the spot in our best clothes: I got on Timbs and a rugby. Rachel’s fishnets and Docs. Mom’s straight hippie, and Joelle’s dirt kid.

When we walk in, people stare. I’m used to it. I’m used to being followed around department stores and I’m used to black kids laughing at our family at the Summit Place Mall.

I’m mean muggin’ ’em, thinking, Looks like we get to eat here too. They lead us to the back next to the kitchen.

I’m by the bus-tub. Joelle’s next to me. We been bickering all night. Every time I say something she mimics me.

My mom’s been looking forward to this for months and is determined to have a good time, she tells Joelle to behave herself and me not to rile her up.

I say, “I ain’t do nothing, she keeps mocking me.”

Joelle goes, “I ain’t do nothing, he keeps mocking me.”

I say, “See?”

She says, “See?”

My mom says, “Let’s just have one nice supper, please?”

Rachel says, “I hope they have something for vegetarians.”

We crack the menu and read ’em from right to left. It looks bleak. These prices are way out of our league.

I look up at my mom; she’s worried.

The waitress comes over for our drink order.

My mom takes the lead, “We’ll all have water.”

Joelle whines, “But I want juice.”

My mom says sweetly, “Well, tonight we’re having water.”

The waitress says, “There’s free juice with the kiddie meal.”

My mom smiles. “Oh? Okay, I guess juice is good.”

The waitress leaves.

My mom leans in and says in a half whisper, “We’ll just split an appetizer and then we’ll get going.” Her finger’s tracing the menu. “Did you want the quesadilla? Or the spinach dip sounds good.”

I look over at another table and this old white motherfucker is wearing Coogi and eating steak. His wife is eating linguini with shrimp and drinking wine.

The waitress comes back. “What’ll you be having this evening?”

My mom says, “We’ll have the spinach dip.”

The waitress writes it down. “And for your entrées?”

My mom forces a smile and says it with less confidence this time, “Just spinach dip.”

The waitress makes a face and I don’t know if it’s pity or disappointment. She says, “You won’t get free juice unless you get a kiddie meal.”

My mom says, “Water’s good then.”

I ask the waitress, “Can I get some lemons for mine?”

I’m ’bout to take these sugar packets and make some lemonade.

Then I hear Joelle mocking me again.

I say, “Goddamn it, Wellie, quit saying what I say! You’re fucking nerve-racking.”

The waitress backs off.

Joelle repeats me again, without the cuss words.

My mom shoots me a look.

I say, “What?!”

She says, “I’m going to the bathroom, be nice to your sister.

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