Sweet Nothing Read Online Free PDF

Junior.
    Brianna is on the couch watching TV when I come in, two fans going and all the windows open. This is how she spends her days now that school’s out. She’s hardly wearing anything. Hoochie-mama shorts and a tank top I can see her titties through. She’s fourteen, and everything Grandma says makes her roll her eyes or giggle into her hand. All of a sudden I’m stupid to her.
    “You have to get air-conditioning,” she whines. “I’m dying.”
    “It’s not that bad,” I say. “I’ll make some lemonade.”
    I head into the kitchen.
    “Where’s your mom?” I ask.
    “Shopping,” Brianna says without looking away from the TV. Some music-and-dancing show.
    “Oh, yeah? How’s she shopping with no money?”
    “Ask her, ” Brianna snaps.
    The two of them have been staying with me ever since Lorena’s husband, Charlie, walked out on her a few months ago. Lorena is supposed to be saving money and looking for a job, but all she’s doing is partying with old high-school friends—most of them divorced now too—and playing around on her computer, sending notes to men she’s never met.
    I drop my purse on the kitchen table and get a Coke from the refrigerator. The back door is wide open. This gets my attention because I always keep it locked since we got robbed that time.
    “Why’s the door like this?” I call into the living room.
    There’s a short pause, then Brianna says, “Because it’s hot in here.”
    I notice a cigarette smoldering on the back step. And what’s that on the grass? A Budweiser can, enough beer still in it to slosh. Somebody’s been up to something.
    I carry the cigarette and beer can into the living room. Lorena doesn’t want me hollering at Brianna anymore, so I keep my cool when I say, “Your boyfriend left something behind.”
    Brianna makes a face like I’m crazy. “What are you talking about?”
    I shake the beer can at her. “Nobody’s supposed to be over here unless me or your mom are around.”
    “Nobody was.”
    “So this garbage is yours, then? You’re smoking? Drinking?”
    Brianna doesn’t answer.
    “He barely got away, right?” I say. “You guys heard me coming, and off he went.”
    “Leave me alone,” Brianna says. She buries her face in a pillow.
    “I don’t care how old you are, I’m calling a babysitter tomorrow,” I say. I can’t have her disrespecting my house. Disrespecting me.
    “Please!” Brianna yells. “Just shut up.”
    I yell back, I can’t help it. “Get in your room,” I say. “And I don’t want to see you again until you can talk right to me.”
    Brianna runs to the bedroom that she and her mom have been sharing. She slams the door. The house is suddenly quiet, even with the TV on, even with the windows open. The cigarette is still burning, so I stub it out in the kitchen sink. The truth is, I’m more afraid for Brianna than mad at her. These young girls fall so deeply in love, they sometimes drown in it.
      
    I CHANGE OUT of my work clothes into a housedress, put on my flip-flops. Out back, I check my squash, my tomatoes, then get the sprinkler going on the grass. Rudolfo, my neighbor, is working in the shop behind his house. The screech of his saw rips into the stillness of the afternoon, and I smile when I think of his rough hands and emerald eyes. There’s nothing wrong with that. Manuel has been gone for three years.
    I make a tuna sandwich for myself and one for Brianna, plus the lemonade I promised. She’s asleep when I take the snack to the bedroom. Probably faking it, but I’m done fighting for today. I go back to the living room and eat in front of the TV, watching one of my cooking shows.
    A knock at the front door startles me. I go over and press my eye to the peephole. There on the porch is a fat white man with a bald, sweaty head and a walrus mustache. When I ask who he is, he backs up, looks right at the hole, and says, “Detective Rayburn, LAPD.” I should have known, a coat and tie in this heat.
    I