Page 57 of Street

“Mom brought these huge dill pickles for me. I used to love them,” Rosa said.

“Not now?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess. I remember being so tickled that she’d included a treat only I liked.”

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“That is special. Tell me something else she did just for you.”

“She made me a dress that matched hers. They were brown with light pink polka dots, and we both wore pink ribbons in our hair.”

“Whatever happened to that dress?”

Rosa glanced up at the ceiling, trying to invent a story he would believe. She couldn’t think of a good way to spin it, so she admitted, “Eventually, the dress didn’t fit me. Mom gave it to my stepfather’s daughter, and they wore the matching outfits to parties.” Rosa could still remember watching them leave without her. She understood at that moment that her mother’s affection belonged to someone else.

“Did she make you another one?” Razor asked.

“No. I didn’t need anything. I wasn’t invited to the party.”

“Why not?”

“That was his family.”

“Did his daughter do things with your mother?” Razor asked, moving to the next mark.

“Of course. Mom liked Stephanie a lot.”

When Razor didn’t ask a follow-up question, Rosa blurted, “Stephanie needed Mom more than I did.”

“Who decided that?”

“What do you mean?” Rosa asked.

“Who said that first? That Stephanie needed your mom more?”

She thought for a few minutes as they moved into the hallway. Rosa sighed. More black marks. She got busy rubbing her sole over them.

“I think my stepfather did.” He’d taken over Rosa’s bedtime routine, hurrying her through brushing her teeth and making her shower instead of splashing in the bath so Stephanie could have the tub.

She made the mistake of getting up for a glass of water. Rosa saw the three of them playing with the bubbles and the toys. They’d looked like the perfect family you saw on TV or in the movies. When he’d spotted her in the doorway, her stepfather had dragged Rosa back to bed and had fastened the covers tight around her so she couldn’t free herself. Nobody had come to help her when she needed to use the toilet. They’d kept Rosa home from her classes the next day to scrub the mattress. Alone at school with no one to stop her, Stephanie had delighted in sharing with everyone that Rosa had wet the bed.

“Want to tell me what happened?” Razor asked.

“You already know. My stepfather tucked me in bed and made sure I stayed there.”

“Perhaps someday you’ll decide your families’ actions had more to do with their personal failings than anything you did. You were a child. They were the adults. And their bad actions that followed are totally on them. A kid, especially one grieving the loss of their father, is never to blame.”

“One chocolate milkshake, triply beaten up by my not-so-smooth running gait,” Street announced. She darted toward him and threw her arms around his waist. “Are you okay, Dinorosa?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. Airing all that had wiped her out emotionally. To her surprise, Rosa felt lighter as well. As if sharing her secrets removed their power to weigh her down. She glanced back at Razor and whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Rosa.” He turned his attention to Street, “I think you need to get matching outfits for the barbecue. It’s going to be at our house next week. Maybe the same color of the Inferno T-shirt, with jeans and pink sneakers,” Razor suggested.

“Daddy doesn’t have shoes that color,” Rosa protested, laughing at the thought.

“Pale or neon? I’ve always wanted pink sneakers. No one at the warehouse would steal them from my locker,” Street said, without missing a beat.