Page 12 of Margo's Got Money Troubles

“What are you talking about?!” Kat the Larger said, gesturing now with her hands in the dark bedroom. “Are you insane? It is your baby! It is your responsibility! It is not my responsibility! My responsibility is to pass my biochem exam!”

“I think,” Kat the Smaller began in her high, soft voice, “what Margo is saying is—”

“Fine,” Margo said. “I’ll leave.”

She strapped Bodhi to her front and jammed a hat on his head. “Are you happy now?” she asked them.

“Yes!” Kat the Larger said. “Because now I will be able to sleep!”

“Margo...” Kat the Smaller said, then nothing more.

Margo slammed the front door, hop-skipped down the outside stairs. Normally she was terrified going up and down with Bodhi, positive she’d slip and fall and crush him under her massive body (she felt their size discrepancy keenly; at three weeks he was barely the size of a small cat), but the rage made her so graceful—she feared nothing. When she was out on the darkened street, the beauty of the night overwhelmed her. It was crisp, not cold. The moon was out. She started to walk to her car because she didn’t know what else to do. Lulled by the motion of walking, Bodhi relaxed and snuggled into the carrier, and she could tell he was on the verge of falling asleep. She looked up and down the sidewalk. It was a lovely night. There were streetlights and she felt relatively safe, so long as she stayed in her little residential area and didn’t get too close to the freeway.

She walked around Fullerton for over an hour, thinking about what had happened, the series of decisions that had led her to this point, and what any of it meant. How much kindness would mean right now, and how unwilling anyone was to give it. How sacred the baby was to her, and how mundane and irritating the baby was to others.

Margo felt so raw and leaking, so mortal, and yet stronger than she’d ever been. The option to throw yourself on the ground and have a good cry was gone. You had to keep going, past the rosebushes and garden gnomes in the dark, the baby asleep on your chest, wondering when it would be safe to go home.

Chapter Four

Margo had failed to anticipate how awkward Shyanne would be with the baby. When Bodhi was placed in her arms, something odd seemed to happen to Shyanne’s elbows, as though marionette strings had pulled them too high, and even her happy smile couldn’t disguise her mounting panic.

“This is so weird, Mom,” Margo said, because it was weird, it was markedly weird.

“Well, it’s been a while since I held a baby, so excuse me!” Shyanne said.

It was true that Bodhi did seem to cry whenever Shyanne held him. Margo was convinced it was because Shyanne couldn’t relax, that he was picking up on her vibes.

“Or it’s your perfume, Mom, it might be too strong for his little nose.”

“I don’t understand why you’re nursing him. Why not give him a bottle?”

Several times Shyanne asked this question, and each time Margo explained that giving a baby a bottle too early could cause “nipple confusion” and mess up their nursing.

“Did you breastfeed me at all?” Margo asked, finally piecing it together.

“I mean, I tried!” Shyanne said.

Margo hesitated, unsure whether to ask if Shyanne’s implants had made breastfeeding impossible.

“I got a bad infection,” Shyanne said, gesturing at her whole chest.

“Mastitis?”

“Whatever you call it,” Shyanne said.

“Was Jinx around a lot when I was a baby?” she asked during another visit after a completely botched attempt to let Shyanne feed Bodhi breast milk with a bottle. Bodhi was screeching and Shyanne was shaking with panic as she tried to force the bottle into his mouth.

“No, that was the problem!” Shyanne said. “He was supposed to come and then he didn’t. He had just gotten injured in Japan!”

“Oh my God—how old was I when he hurt his back?”

“Three weeks old.”

“Jesus Christ. Was your mom here to help you?”

“No! Are you kidding? Mama was terrified of flying, she didn’t like me having a baby out of wedlock, there was no way she was driving from Oklahoma to help me out of a stupid mess of my own damn making.”

“When did he finally come?” Margo asked. She’d always known that her dad had gotten injured “when she was a baby,” but it had never occurred to her exactly what that must have meant for her mom.

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