Page 40 of Wall

I had to tell my ma—three times—but it was on the phone. She was the one who told my dad and the rest of the family. Ma was really worried about Mona; she fussed a lot about what she could do to help her, but there wasn’t anything. Mona either wanted to pretend nothing happened, or she wanted to be left alone.

With Peanut, Mona told the people she’d confided in about the pregnancy, and they offered condolences when they saw me, but we kept the news quieter for Jellybean and Lemon, so it didn’t ever come up.

Lemon was the hardest. Mona had started to show. She hid it with big shirts and layers. She thought it’d been unlucky that she told people about Peanut, so she was being really quiet about it. When we lost the baby, except for Ma and the obstetrician, there was no one to tell.

It’s a hard feeling. That you’ve lost something, and the world continues on as if it doesn’t matter. You gotta go to work, gear up, go out on calls, eat dinner, shoot the shit, as if everything is exactly the same as it ever was.

The only time you hear their nicknames anymore is in your head. And you can’t talk about it with your wife. You can’t add to her burden.

I exhale and shift on the bucket, try to rearrange my bulk before the other brothers join us.

“Serena is a pretty name,” I say.

“She was the prettiest little girl. The best kid.” Mr. Smith offers me a wavering smile. “Hailey is her spitting image.”

I smile back. “You need another bandana for those knuckles?”

He’s resting his hands gingerly on his lap. They’re bloody and swelling like hell. He’s definitely broken some bones. “It would be appreciated.”

I give him the extra I keep in my back pocket.

We sit there, waiting for the others. I slide my hand into my pocket and slip the ring on my little finger.

Mission accomplished.

CHAPTER 7

MONA

There’s no lying to myself this time. It’s a date.

John texted at six o’clock in the morning that he got the ring. He texted an hour later asking if Broyce’s was okay for dinner.

Despite the fancy places they’ve opened up on the downtown waterfront, Broyce’s is still the most popular restaurant in Petty’s Mill. It’s a dive, but the steaks and hushpuppies are the best in the state. I told him Broyce’s was fine.

Then he called around noon and asked me if I’d rather drive into Pyle. Go someplace fancy. He sounded nervous on the phone. If I didn’t know him, I wouldn’t have been able to tell. When he’s nervous, his voice drops an octave, and he boils his sentences down to subject and verb.

Not that he’s the nervous type. Only ever around me.

A flush of heat creeps up my chest as I step out of the shower. It’s only four in the afternoon, but I wanted to give myself lots of time to get ready in case I get all sweaty again.

I can’t believe I’m getting ready for a date with John Wall.

Or that I’m excited.

There’s a thrum in my belly, and I’ve got that first date energy. Music’s blaring from my phone, and I’m swaying my hips as I apply my eyeshadow, using all three colors like they show in the diagram on the back of the box. Usually, I swipe on a nude and call it a day.

These days, I don’t spend much time getting ready, but it’s funny how it comes back to you like riding a bike. Batting your eyelashes against a tissue to get off the excess mascara. Dabbing scent behind your knees and ears.

I don’t think I’ve used my perfume since John left. It doesn’t go bad, though, does it?

I squint in the mirror at the finished product. It’s the middle of winter, so my hair’s lank and dark, but at least there aren’t strands sticking up from static. My face is round and my nose is pointy. I look like a 3D animated character. But a cute one.

With my makeup done, I can even pass for pretty. I didn’t think so when I was younger—my mom’s voice was too loud in my head—but I’ve got my charms.

Mom was big on advice. Pull your shoulders back and no one will notice that flabby gut. Smile with your lips closed to hide those horse teeth.

I flash a smile at the mirror. It’s a nice smile, big and bright. Happy looks good on me.

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