Nalo Hopkinson The New Moon's Arms

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When he didn t know the words which was often he made them up. Shoulda been
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funny, but I was in
no mood. Actually, I was in quite a mood. The four or five outfits spread out
on the bed all looked like
crap on me. I was getting sweatier and sweatier and more and more miserable.
Someone knocked on the front door. I reached for my bathrobe, but Agway was
way ahead of me. I
could hear his feet pattering as he ran to the door.
Agway! I yelled. Careful! You going to trip! And don t open that door
without me! Damned child
had no native caution when it came to other people. Don t know what his
parents had been teaching him.
Sure enough, by the time I had the bathrobe on and had made it to the front
door, Agway had opened it
and was burbling happily at Orso. Orso was squatted down, talking back. What
is that you say? Yes,
I m very pleased to see you, too.
Orso grinned as Agway threw himself into his arms. He stood, swirled Agway
around in the air. Man and
boy chortled. Then Orso saw me. Excuse me, Agway. He set the child down on
his feet. Good
evening, he said to me. He stood with his arms crossed, waiting.
He was wearing perfectly faded jeans, a stylin pair of leather sandals
polished to a fare-thee-well, and
an impeccably ironed navy blue cotton shirt that made his dark skin gleam. It
just wasn t right for a man
to be so well turned out. Made me feel frumpy. And he was waiting for me to
say what I knew I had to
say. Well, thank you for babysitting Agway for me. That s really generous of
you.
Mm-hm. . .
Man, I hated backing down! I nerved myself up for my apology, but Agway was
having none of this
boring big people pa-
laver. He kept chattering at Orso, tugged at his hand to try to pull him into
the living room.
Orso smiled at him and picked him up. Looks like he s happy with you, he
said.
I m trying. It s good having him here.
And you looked like you were about to say something to me just now.
I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth. Twelve hundred pounds of pressure per
square inch. I m. Sorry.
I opened my eyes. He still had that expectant look. So I said, I behaved
badly the other day.
True that.
I should have minded my manners, I told him in a rush. You and Michael were
guests in my house.
Orso had more hair to pull than I did. Agway was yanking on it now and
pointing into the living room,
urging him to come and see some wonderful thing or other. Orso laughed and
disentangled his hand.
You not going to let me squeeze every last little drop of remorse from her,
that it? He put Agway to
stand and took his hand. Apology accepted, he said to me. For now. I tell
you true, though; you on
sufferance with me. Michael loves you so much he ll put up with any nonsense
from you, but I won t let
anybody speak to me like that twice. Then he toddled off with Agway into the
living room. I followed,
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speechless. Michael loved me?
In the living room, Agway dropped Orso s hand and grabbed his latest toy an
old briefcase of
Dadda s off the coffee table, and proceeded to demonstrate to Orso how he had
learned to undo the
clasp, and how well chunky Dumpy (didn t) fit inside the slim briefcase.
Orso sat on the floor and got into the game with him, loading Agway s toys
into the briefcase and
struggling to close it. That quickly became a game of tummy tickle, with Agway
wriggling and laughing.
Orso looked up and saw my expression. He stood up.
Calamity, we need to get one more thing out of the way right now.
What s that?
Men get me hot. Not children.
My face warmed up, and it wasn t no blasted hot flash, neither. Okay, I
whispered, shame-facedly.
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Okay for true? he asked.
My face never did hide anything very well. He sighed. You know, you have the
perfect good reference
for me if you want one.
Who?
Stanley. He been at our house almost every Sunday for the past five years.
Jealousy knotted up my belly. So I hear. I checked my watch. Gene s late.
That s a girl s prerogative.
If a narrow, dark-skinned man about our age knock on the door, that s
probably Gene. You could just
tell him I m dressing?
Cool breeze.
I settled on the jeans and the green shirt. Sucked my tummy in and checked
myself out in the bedroom
mirror. Not too bad, if I kept the gut in. I got Agway s snack from the fridge
and took it for him. He
plumped himself down on the floor to eat it.
Orso was watching a reality show. It looked like the one where bosses switched
lives with their
employees for a month.
I sat on the arm of the couch. We just going to Mrs. Smalley s; you know, the
chicken place? You will
call me if anything happen to Agway?
Yes, ma am. And if I can t get through to you on your cell, I will ring for
the ambulance, the Fire
Department, the Coast Guard, and hail any cute passing fishermen and beg them
all to come find you.
I couldn t help it. I giggled.
What time Agway goes to bed?
Seven, seven-thirty. I find if you turn the lights down around then, he will
start to get sleepy. Yay for
diurnal rhythms. I have some maami apple sliced up in the fridge. If he
looking peckish, you could give
him some for a snack. You help yourself, too, all right? Anything you want to
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