Page 13 of Margo's Got Money Troubles

“Well, he had that first surgery in Japan because he couldn’t fly, and then he did rehab there for two months. When he came stateside, he had to spend time with Cheri and them, so I don’t remember exactly, but I think you were about nine months when he saw you for the first time.”

“Did you almost kill him?”

“I mean, I would have killed him if I didn’t need him to give me money so bad!” Shyanne laughed, though it was not a happy sound.

“He must have been strapped. I mean, he basically lost his job, right?”

“Yep,” Shyanne said. “It was not a happy time for anybody. Gives me the butt tingles even talking about it.”

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” Margo said, and she meant it. Before she’d had Bodhi, she’d known her mother loved her, but she hadn’t understood how expensive that love was, how much a mother paid for it.

Margo worked her first shift since the birth when Bodhi was about six weeks old. Shyanne watched him and after that said she’d never watch him again. “I get flashbacks,” she said. “He doesn’t like me, Margo. It’s not right for a baby to be crying and crying like that for hours.” Margo nodded. She didn’t want Bodhi crying for hours either.

The next shift, Margo hired a sitter who was actually her mother’s neighbor, a woman with a lawn statue of a frog Elvis, who said he wouldn’t take a bottle for anything, and he’d basically cried the whole seven hours. The next shift, she hired a sitter off Care.com named Theresa, who was twenty-four and studying for a degree in child psychology and had been a nanny to twin baby girls. When Margo got home, Theresa practically rushed out of the apartment saying everything had been great and Bodhi was an angel. Bodhi was in a state, though he settled down after Margo nursed him, and she reassured herself that everything was okay. Later, Margo looked in the freezer, hunting for ice cream, and saw that the six bags of milk she’d left were still there, completely untouched. It was almost like Theresa hadn’t even tried to feed Bodhi. Her roommates said the crying was nonstop and that Margo was not allowed to have babysitters watch Bodhi in the apartment anymore.

Margo had one more shift before the weekend—well, her weekend, a Tuesday and Wednesday—and so she called her mom. “You have to,” she said. “This is the moment you show up for me.”

“Noodle, I cannot do it,” Shyanne said. “When he cries, I panic! I’m telling you, that baby does not like me.”

“He’s a baby, he doesn’t like or not like you. I’m asking. I’m asking you this,” Margo said.

“Noodle,” Shyanne said.

“I will pay you,” Margo said.

Her mother paused. “Goddamn it, what time?”

But she called Margo at the restaurant halfway through her shift, saying she could not watch him one minute longer, and if Margo wouldn’t come get him, Shyanne would drive there and leave him with the bartender. Tessa, the owner, had been extremely pissed when she handed Margo the phone, saying, “A phone call for you, madame.” In general, getting personal calls at work was highly taboo. Tessa’s eyeliner was smudged beneath her eyes, adding to the impression she made of a refined and beautiful bulldog.

“Do you want me to bring him there?” Margo’s mom was asking, her voice tiny inside the bulky block of the cordless phone.

Margo didn’t know which would make Tessa angrier: her leaving in the middle of a shift or a baby appearing at the bar. She opened her mouth and no sound emerged.

“What’s happening?” Tessa asked, softened by whatever she could see on Margo’s face. “Is it the baby?”

“No,” Margo said to Tessa. “I mean, yes, he’s okay. My mom is saying she can’t watch him because he keeps crying and can she bring him here?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Tessa said, grabbing the phone from Margo and saying to Shyanne: “You should be ashamed of yourself. Bring him here, I’ll watch him myself.”

That night Tessa let Margo nurse Bodhi in the back office, which sent him directly to sleep. He slept on Tessa’s massive bosom for the rest of the shift, making Tessa feel like quite the baby whisperer. All the drunk regulars came over to admire him, and Tessa held forth about how the secret to babies was whatever whatever, always ending with giving the baby some whiskey on the corner of a washcloth to suck on, though this was not how she’d gotten Bodhi to sleep at all.

In a way, it seemed like a ’90s sitcom, and Margo imagined that maybe Tessa would become the nanny and run the restaurant with Bodhi strapped to her chest. He’d be a kind of mascot. Nothing cheered up aging alcoholics like a baby! At the end of the shift, Margo closed out and tipped everyone. She was feeling good; she’d made more money than usual and worked the last half of the shift light at heart knowing Bodhi was safe. As she peeled his sleeping body from Tessa’s chest, Tessa said, “You’ve got to get something figured out.”

“I know,” Margo said.

“If you can’t get a regular sitter in place by your next shift, you’re fired.”

“Oh,” Margo said.

“I know it seems harsh. But, sweetie, you shouldn’t be here. You should be home with this baby.”

“Yeah,” Margo said, suddenly so angry it felt like electricity was gathering in her eye sockets. “But I have to, you know, live. And pay rent.”

“Move in with your mother. Jesus!” Tessa was rubbing her eyes with her knuckles. The bartender, Jose, who had worked there for a hundred million years and still somehow looked only twenty-three, took in their exchange and poured Tessa another whiskey soda.

“I can’t move in with my mother,” Margo said.

“Why the fuck not? What, you don’t get along? Those things don’t matter, Margo, you have a fucking baby!”

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