But tonight I had Pixie to toss the ball with. And I got to feel important because I told her she wasn’t by herself. It was something I was good at. Maybe all kids of alcoholics were good at picking up on other people’s body language. Watching out. Always.
She made me feel safer, too. Here in this new place where she seemed to know everything and everyone. I was lucky to be near her.
In the morning, Dad was still in bed. He hadn’t vomited, so I had nothing to clean. I hoped he got up to use the bathroom. I changed my clothes and was out of the apartment early enough to see the garbage truck go by, clanging and slamming. It would take some getting used to this city living.
Pixie’s window seemed quiet, and I wasn’t sure if she was sleeping in a bit. I didn’t launch a Nerf bullet into her room or anything.
I wanted to try my luck at getting into another basketball game with the big guys again, but I wasn’t sure how nice they would be to me without Pixie.
I got past the gate and it was quiet still. Too early for anyone other than a few guys who seemed like they were in the same shape as my dad lying on the benches scattered around the playground. Without my basketball, I wouldn’t get very far on the court. I started swinging on the empty swing, but the squeak and the whine of the chains earned me a few curses from one ornery guy. I put my feet down and skidded to a dusty stop.
I wandered out of the playground gate and walked to the alley between Pixie’s and my window. There were some leftover scraps of someone’s construction project. Most of it was in bad shape, but under a moldy piece of drywall, I found a nice wide plank of wood. I eyeballed the space between the buildings. It might fit.
I dragged and pulled the wood all the way up to my apartment. It was tricky and I pissed off a few old ladies trying to walk down the stairs. But I eventually got it in my room and flopped it out my window. There was a detail under my window of a concrete ridge. Pixie’s had the same thing.
I was pretty sure if I dropped the plank I would kill someone, but no one was underneath me. I got it propped and then, if I was right, it would slam down on Pixie’s side. Then she and I could maybe roll the ball back-and-forth to play.
Pixie walked into her room just as the plank slammed down. She ran to the window and peered down.
“Oh!”
It was cool. Like a plank on a pirate ship. It was pretty wide, too. I could probably stand one foot next to the other if I wanted to. I didn’t, but I bet I could.
I found the ball on the floor and gave it a toss, hitting the plank on the descent and bouncing up and right into Pixie’s window. I watched her eyes flash as she dropped something to catch the ball.
Then she returned the ball the same way. We went back-and-forth without talking for about twenty tosses before the ball bounced weird and rocketed the rest of the way below. Right then we decided whoever threw the funky toss would have to get the ball, so I did the honors.
It took me a while to get all the way down the stairs, find the ball, wave at Pixie from the ground, and then go all the way back to my room. We played the game for about forty-five minutes, with each of us taking a few trips to the alley below to grab the ball. I kept the ball after the last throw. We chatted after that, hanging out the windows, about the pudgy pigeon that seemed like a jerk but hung out close to our windows. He even walked on the plank a bit.
And that was a typical summer day with Pixie Rae. It set the tone for the rest of my days that summer. They started and ended with her. She had a way of making things better. She was my defender from the bigger kids in the neighborhood. I wished I didn’t need her, but instead of fighting, she put people in their place with her words. And she knew everyone. So walking around with her made me feel like I lived there my whole life.
The fire hydrant. The swings. The library. Early morning basketball games with the crew. We kept each other company and I needed that.
Dad was so far off the wagon he couldn’t even follow the tracks of it anymore. His new job seemed to expect him to go to Tapps with clients to help persuade them to buy or celebrate a sale. But Dad was going there now, even if he hadn’t been to work.
I was disappointed, even though I knew it was inevitable. He couldn’t resist it.
I was able to take money from his wallet for food and stuff. And Pixie and I would pool our money and our various skills to make food at her place.
Ms. Stone was so rarely at home, it’d actually surprised me to hear her voice in the background when Pixie and I were talking out of the window or playing the ball game. Ms. Stone was pretty nice, if fairly distracted. Pixie would defend her mom working so many jobs, even though I didn’t say anything about her being gone. She would bring up that her mom would call every day. It was a sore spot. Pixie was crazy about her mom. I could understand that. Because I really liked my dad when he wasn’t drinking. He was funny and had tons of energy when he was clean. He wanted to do stuff, like play catch or go on a hike when we lived back in the country.
We were deep in summer, thick and lazy in days that seemed to be full of sunlight for twenty-four hours straight, when I heard Pixie and her mom have their first fight.
Pixie asked her, “So you’ll be gone for weeks?”
I didn’t need to see Pixie to know she was stomping her foot.
“This is a real opportunity. Travel is part of it.” Her mom’s voice was lilting, hopeful.
“So take me, too. I’m just hanging around here.” Pixie’s voice was begging.
I felt a swell of panic. I couldn’t do this thing we did every day without her. I felt bad when relief surged through me at her mom’s next words. “No kids allowed, Pixie. And you’ll have school soon enough. You have to get good grades.”
“I hate being here alone. And now I have to do it for weeks? A few days is one thing. But weeks? Is that even legal?” Pixie’s voice was getting high and squeaky. She was usually so measured.
“Wait. You hate it? I thought you were good? You were okay? You know I’ve asked you a million times.” Ms. Stone leaned on the doorframe.
Pixie must have been on her bed. That’s why she sounded so clear. I slinked back a little, dipping into the shadows so her mom wouldn’t see me.
“I’m fine. It’s fine. You have to do what you need to. I’ll be okay.”
The quickest switch. From defiant to understanding. It’d seemed fake to me, but her mom’s shoulders slumped in relief. “That’s good. You were worrying me there.”
“When do you start?” The question Pixie used to slide on her armor. Promising to be the adult. I didn’t do the same things as Pixie, but I recognized the tone in her voice. Something she had to do.
“Next week. We can spend some time together. Oh, wait. I have to do a double shift this week and then work two extra days to catch up in time to take the first travel I have to.” Her mom ducked into Pixie’s room. I could see the silhouette of their hug. I met Pixie’s gaze through the dark.
“It’ll be okay, Mom. Don’t worry.”
I knew Pixie saw me because she gave me a little fingertip wave. I didn’t wave back because I felt like I was watching her heart break. I vowed to talk to her later until she was ready to go to sleep. She could say whatever she wanted. I wouldn’t even tell her she was a motormouth.