The Way Back Read online

  If it was early morning and Colby couldn’t get back to sleep, she’d get on the bus and go see Jordan at work. Jordan’s new job was at a coffee shop called the Velo Café, which had a bicycle drive-through window. It was owned by one of her mom’s ex-boyfriends, a hipster with a beard and thick-rimmed glasses and a wardrobe full of skinny jeans that didn’t suit his tubby figure very well. Martin was nice, though, and was happy to have Jordan working for him so long as she was sober.

  Milo had been hired there too. When Colby had told him she was done with stealing, he’d told Gram that he was done too. Gram bristled but didn’t try to talk him out of it. And then he’d decided that his baby’s father wasn’t going to be having sex for money either, so he got a job at the Velo too, even though the money was tragically little compared to what he used to make.

  But it was a job. And it had nothing to do with drugs or sex, which Colby was thrilled about. She hated that he used to have sex with skanky old men. It was probably pure luck that he hadn’t caught some nasty disease. Luck—and condoms. Which he was usually very serious about. Except for that one time.

  Milo might have looked harder for a better job, but he liked Jordan, and he liked Martin, and he really liked the tall, lanky barista called Etienne. Etienne wore jeans folded up to his calves, and pale blue canvas shoes, and short-sleeved button-up shirts with bowties. And a hint of eyeliner, which actually looked really good on him and made his green eyes sparkle.

  The day that Colby went into labor, she hadn’t had any practice contractions for ages. Labor wasn’t even on her mind, other than the constant reminder of her enormous belly.

  There she was, sitting in the café with Milo, who had just finished his shift. Jordan and Etienne were working.

  Colby had reached for her iced mocha, about to scoop a finger of whipped cream into her mouth, when all of a sudden she felt a warm, spreading wetness between her legs.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?” Milo said, not really interested. He was looking at ads for apartments. He had to move out of his studio. He’d finally admitted to Colby that it had been subsidized by a guy who ran several gay bars in the West End. He’d let Milo stay there for cheap in exchange for regular favors.

  “My water just broke.”

  “Your water just—” Milo realized exactly what Colby was saying. He leaped up. “Your water just broke!” He spun around and yelled, “Her water just broke! We’re having a BABY!” He jumped up and down, literally squealing. “Oh my god. OH MY GOD! Let’s go! We have to get your hospital bag. It’s at Gram’s, right?”

  Colby nodded.

  “Okay, okay.”

  Jordan tore off her apron and ran to Colby’s side. “What do you need? Name it. It’s yours. I’m here. Totally here for you.”

  Colby put up her hands. “Everybody slow down. The baby is not coming right this minute.” All of a sudden Colby was gripped by an intense pain. She held her breath until it passed. “At least, I hope not.”

  “We have to go!” Milo shouted.

  “My pants are wet.”

  “Come with me.” Jordan helped her to the staff room and gave her a pair of her pants. “Bonus of being fat is that these will fit you.”

  The first cabbie who stopped drove off when he saw Colby buckle with pain during a contraction. The second agreed to take them as far as Gram’s but wouldn’t wait to take them on to the hospital.

  “Asshole,” Jordan said when she’d paid the driver.

  “We’ll get Gram’s car,” Milo said.

  The three of them went inside. Milo put a towel down on the couch and instructed Colby to sit there. But she didn’t want to sit. She wanted to walk. She paced the room, talking to the midwife on the phone, telling her what was happening.

  Jordan found the hospital bag.

  Gram came running. “I’ll drive!” She grabbed her purse.

  “Where’s Gigi?” Colby asked when she hung up the phone.

  “I don’t know,” Gram said, steering everyone to the door. “She didn’t come home last night. Maybe with that boy.”

  “He’s no boy, Gram.” Colby winced as another wave of pain hit her. Gigi was dating a drug dealer who was at least twice her age. “Arman is a creepy MAN. He’s no good.”

  “Well, no good or not”—Gram grabbed Colby’s arm and pulled her up—“he’s not here. She’s not here. And you are having my great-grand-baby. Let’s go.” She’d long given up her ungay-Milo hopes, but she was ecstatic about the baby being a blood relation, accident or not.

  By the time Colby got into a birthing room, her contractions were coming fast and strong. She wanted to walk, though, and growled at Milo when he suggested she get onto the bed. She didn’t want to lie down. Not at all. She wanted to pace.

  Jordan, wisely, said nothing. She had a couple of tennis balls and was massaging Colby’s lower back with them the way the midwife had shown her. Colby rested her head on her arms and leaned against the wall, moaning.

  “No lesbian jokes,” Colby muttered between contractions.

  “Nope.”

  “Just keep doing that though.”

  “You like it like this?” Jordan said with a smile in her voice.

  “I said no lesbian jokes.”

  “No lesbian jokes.”

  Colby only asked for drugs one time, and that was when she was already pushing and it felt like she was trying to pass a semi-truck, but then she delivered the baby’s head and everything got a lot easier.

  Not painless, no. But easier than straight-up contractions.

  The baby slipped out, and everyone in the room cheered as the midwife wiped the baby’s face and placed the squalling, tiny thing on Colby’s chest.

  Colby cried and cried—and then thought to look at the baby.

  A girl. A daughter.

  She had a daughter.

  She was a mom.

  This was her kid.

  “A girl,” she whispered.

  Milo leaned over. “A little girl.”

  “Wow,” Jordan said.

  “Thank God.” Gram kissed her cross necklace. “A healthy baby girl.”

  And she was healthy. Colby was moved to a private room with a chair that unfolded into a bed for the dad. But Milo was getting antsy and didn’t want to stay, so Jordan was the one who ended up sleeping on the fold-out cot. The nurses came in several times during the night to check on Colby and the baby, who was supposed to sleep in a plastic bucket beside the bed.

  “A bassinet,” the nurse said.

  “A plastic bucket.” Colby kept the baby with her instead, against her chest and against the nurse’s orders.

  “You’re young,” the nurse admonished her when she came in and found Colby still cuddling the baby to her. “You don’t know any better.”

  “This is my baby,” Colby said. “I know best.”

  “You’re what, seventeen?” The nurse glanced at Colby’s chart.

  Jordan, who’d been only half-asleep, stood up. “How old are you?”

  “None of your business,” said the nurse.

  “Neither is the fact that she doesn’t want her baby to sleep in a plastic bucket after spending nine months all nice and cozy inside.”

  “I’m calling the social worker,” the nurse said. She pointed a finger at Colby. “I know your history, kid.”

  It was probably Mr. Horvath who came by first thing the next morning. But Colby was already gone. She’d wrapped the baby up in the blanket Gram had knit, and with Jordan’s help, they took the bus home. To Gram’s.

  Gigi in the night

  Colby named her baby Luna Grace. Luna for the big moon she spent so many hours gazing at from her window at Meadow Farm. Grace for her mom.

  Milo wanted to name her Scarlet Ruby, but Colby vetoed that as super dumb. Jordan figured they should name her something more gender neutral, like Taylor or Kelly. Or Jordan.

  Gram loved the name, just as she loved everything about the baby
. Colby could’ve named her Dump Truck Sani-Station and Gram would’ve sung it in a lullaby without so much as blinking.

  And Gigi?

  Well, she hadn’t met her niece yet.

  Luna was a week old, and Gigi hadn’t even seen her. She’d come once to get clothes and look for a mascara, but Colby had only just fallen asleep with Luna after a really long, hard night and Gram forbade Gigi to even tiptoe into the room. Not even to look for the missing mascara.

  When Colby woke up later, she cried. “I would’ve wanted her to meet Luna, Gram.”

  “You needed sleep.” Gram put a plate in front of Colby. Peanut butter on toast. A mug of hot, milky tea. “Besides, she was in no state to meet a new little baby.” She shook her head and made a disapproving tut-tut sound.

  Gigi didn’t meet Luna until she was almost three weeks old, and even then, it was hardly a proper introduction. If Gigi needed anything, she came by in the middle of the night. Even if Colby was awake, she’d pretend not to be. It was awkward now. There was too much space between them. They were so far apart now, Colby wasn’t sure how she’d ever get back to Gigi. Or get Gigi to come back to her.

  One night when Gigi came into the room, Colby was wide awake. Luna was asleep beside her, tucked in one of those Baby-Safe Sleeper thingies. Colby had just nursed her and was almost asleep too, but not quite.

  Colby shut her eyes when she heard Gigi come in. And she would’ve stayed like that, pretending to be asleep, except that she heard Gigi rooting under Colby’s bed.

  The jewelry box.

  Colby turned over. “Hey.”

  Gigi raised her phone, the light on it making Colby squint. “Hey.”

  “What are you doing?” Colby sat up. She turned on the bedside lamp.

  “Nothing.”

  Gigi had the jewelry box in her hands.

  “That’s mine.”

  “Hell no, it’s not.”

  Colby reached for the box. Gigi backed up into the small circle of light. She was gaunt. Scratches lined one cheek. Her eyes darted back and forth, back and forth, dark shadows underneath them.

  “I watch her, you know.” Gigi coughed. She reached for Colby’s water glass beside the bed and took a drink. “When I come at night. I watch her sleeping. She looks like you. Milo too. Her nose. His nose. My nose. The family nose.”

  “I haven’t seen you watching her.”

  “I know you pretend to be asleep.” Gigi laughed. “But sometimes you actually are asleep.”

  “Put the box down.” Colby still had every intention of returning it. She just hadn’t had a chance yet.

  Much to her surprise, Gigi set the box beside Colby on the bed.

  “Thank you.” Colby took it and held it in her lap.

  Then she knew. All of a sudden she knew.

  She opened the box.

  It was empty except for the earrings and the child’s bracelet.

  “Gigi?” Colby looked up at her. Her voice knotted in her throat. “Where’s the rest of it?”

  “I took it.” Gigi shrugged. “Why not? It wasn’t doing anyone any good hiding under your bed. Gram takes care of you. You get welfare. I need money. You don’t.”

  “Oh, Gigi…”

  Gigi lurched forward to get a better look at Luna.

  “It doesn’t make any sense.” Gigi gazed at the baby. “You and Milo. And Jordan. That baby.”

  “It makes sense.”

  “Not really.”

  “It’s like you stayed back, Gigi. Behind us,” Colby said. “In the past.”

  “It’s like you took off and went somewhere else entirely, Colby.” Gigi pulled a backpack off her shoulder and set it on the floor, rummaging through it in that frenetic way junkies do that makes everything seem so much harder than it needs to be. “I got this for her.” She pulled out a soft, pink blanket with satin edging and Luna Grace embroidered along the bottom. “From that place in the mall where we got those matching shirts done last year. For Christmas.”

  “Ho.”

  “Ho.”

  Colby laughed. “And when we stood side by side—”

  “Ho, ho,” Gigi said. And then, “Give me the box.”

  “No.” Colby tightened her grip on it. “I want to give it back.”

  “What’s the point now? There’s hardly anything left.”

  “There’s a point. Even if you can’t see it.”

  “I need the money, Cole.”

  “You need help.”

  “Oh, right. Well, thanks for letting me know.”

  “You need rehab, Gigi.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because you’re a drug addict.”

  “Preach it, sister.”

  “You won’t go because of Arman, right?” Her drug-dealer boyfriend.

  “Leave him out of it.” Gigi glowered at Colby. “Give me the box.”

  “No.”

  “Fine.” Gigi lunged for it, trying to wrestle it out of Colby’s hands. Colby held tight, and Gigi gave her a shove.

  “Stop it!” Colby shoved back, still holding tight to the box. “Careful of the baby!”

  Then Luna began to cry.

  Colby let go of the box at once. She turned to her baby and scooped her up into her arms.

  Gigi stuffed the jewelry box into her backpack. “You don’t see what’s happening, but I do.”

  “You have no clue, Gigi.”

  “I know exactly what’s happening.” She nearly spat the words. “You’ve taken everything that was ever mine. My room, my house, my gram, even my brother! I hate you, Colby. I really do.”

  Colby sat on the edge of the bed. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She held her baby and stared at her, willing herself not to say anything. To just let Gigi go. Gigi hadn’t hit rock bottom yet. Colby wondered if she ever would. When they used to get high together, they watched out for each other. But now Gigi was alone out there.

  “I love you, Gigi. No matter what, I love you. ”

  But Gigi was gone.

  When Luna stopped crying, Colby could hear Gigi arguing with Gram by the front door. But Gram couldn’t stop Gigi either. She slammed the door behind her, and then the tiny house rang with simple, painful silence.

  playing house

  Jordan and Milo were looking for a place together. At first Colby wanted to move in with them too, but every place they looked at said no babies. So Colby put her name in for social housing and settled in to wait, no matter how badly she wanted to get away from the neighborhood.

  Milo and Jordan had saved just enough for a deposit and first month’s rent. They’d intended to wait a bit longer, to save up more money, but they were looking for a place now because the club owner had moved a new boy toy into the studio and Milo was sleeping on the couch at Gram’s.

  “Not saying that I won’t miss the loft,” Milo said more than once. “But I don’t miss the sweat and aftershave. Ugh.”

  Colby was going with them to see a one-bedroom apartment above a convenience store down the block from the Velo Café.

  So far, it hadn’t mattered if Jordan and Milo had the money and good references. Every landlord had rejected their application. They were too young. Too weird.

  This one was different though.

  Jordan and Milo’s boss, Martin, knew the landlord, who also owned the convenience store. He’d put in a good word for them.

  Gurdeep met them at the store.

  “I’ll show you. Nice place. You can have it if you want. Martin says you will take good care of it.” Then he narrowed his eyes and leaned in. “No funny business though. No drugs in my building. None. I see drugs, I smell drugs—I know drugs. No drugs in here. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jordan said.

  “Totally clear,” Milo said.

  “And who are you?” Gurdeep cast a glance at Colby, who held Luna in her arms.

  “I—uh, I’m a friend.”

  “Not you.” Gurdeep’
s face brightened. He grinned. “That baby. Who is that cute little bundle?”

  “Oh.” Colby moved Luna’s hood back so he could see her. “This is Luna.”

  “I like babies.” Gurdeep pulled a fat collection of keys from his pocket. “Babies make life much happier. I have four babies. They are all grown now. Not so cute. Thank God for grandchildren. Come on. Let me show you the apartment.”

  Milo and Jordan and Colby grinned at each other, then followed Gurdeep out of the store, through a door beside it and up two flights of stairs.

  The hallway was musty, and the walls were filthy.

  There were two doors on each side and a window at the end, overlooking the street.

  “Martin said you want one bedroom.” Gurdeep sorted through his keys. “But I think two bedrooms better for you. More room for the baby.”

  Colby brightened. “You’d let us? With the baby too?”

  “Sure.” Gurdeep smiled. “Why not?”

  “Do you have a two-bedroom?”

  “I do. This one.” Gurdeep led them to the last door on the right. He unlocked it and swung it open. “More expensive. But more space. I don’t mind babies. Many landlords will not rent to babies. But I have nine grandchildren, and I know babies are not the trouble. Druggies are the trouble. Always the druggies. You promise me you not do any drugs in here—no drugs ever—and I am happy to have your baby as one of my valued tenants.”

  Colby’s mind was spinning.

  The apartment was warm. She could hear the traffic swishing along the wet streets below. Rain pattering on the eaves under the window.

  The ceilings were high, the windows too. Not as high as Milo’s old place, but tall enough to make the place feel bigger than it was. Both big windows overlooked the street. Colby stood at the first window. From there she could see the park, with its new playground and community garden.

  A narrow, rare stretch of open sky above the buildings. Perfect for looking at the moon.

  She didn’t care what the rest of the place looked like. She wanted to live there.

  “This would be my room.” Milo emerged from a doorway. “And I’m not sharing.”