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The drive takes an eternity. Moma drives and I send continuous messages to Gwen. Still nothing. She’s been saying she needed to try going to bed earlier to see if that would help her get another hour or two—she’s been waking up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep. Of all nights for her to start that. When we pull into the drive, the lights are off. I hope to God they’re in the barn already. If they’re in the house, we’re dead.
We go through the back door and nearly trip on all the shoes. Gwen and Tahira both have smaller feet than I do. My stomach is in my throat.
“Who’s here?” Moma asks.
“I had friends over during the weekend and they left their shoes.” I shrug. I slip off my shoes and leave them next to Gwen’s.
“You have friends?” Mama B gasps, and then they both dissolve into a fit of giggles.
I roll my eyes and when we reach the kitchen, I go for it and yell as loud as I can. “I am so glad you’re home! I cannot believe it!” I wrap my arms around them both and hug them tight.
Not used to physical affection from me, or even much with each other, they both try to get out of my grip long before I’m done. I see Gwen and Tahira run past and adjust our hug so I’m the one facing them. When they reach the front door, I breathe deeply and release my parents. I’m surprised to see that Moma’s eyes are shining.
“It’s good to be home,” she says quietly.
Mama B shakes her head. “You are acting so weird, Phoenix. Get to bed. I’m worried about you.”
I wait until I think they’re sleeping and then walk through the kitchen to the back door. I crack it open and a voice behind me says, “Why don’t you tell them to come in now?”
I flip around and Moma stands there holding up her Silverbook.
“I have cameras installed for when we’re away. Normally you’re not here very much. I’ve seen everything.”
My face gets fiery because if she’s seeneverything, that means...
Her lips tighten. “Yes, that too.”
I put my head in my hands. “Does Mama B know?”
“I didn’t want to see the footage of Jackal’s ass, but yes, I’m aware,” she says, coming around the corner. “It was too entertaining to watch you lie through your teeth to us.”
Her eyes narrow and I feel the dread like a chain squeezing around my neck.
“Rats. Honestly, Phoenix. Like I’d be scared of rats.”
“Please don’t turn them in. Please. They’ve been through so much.”
They look at each other and the glint in Mama B’s eyes makes me stop breathing until she speaks.
“What kind of people do you think we are, Phoenix?”
Unyielding, not very warm...but not uncaring. I bow my head and a tear drips down my cheek.
“I couldn’t turn them away.”
I’ve been pleasantly surprised before, but most of it has been related to the stage: when I got my first solo dance after an audition that was sub-par; when I beat out younger, more qualified dancers; when I broke my toes and was able to keep dancing anyway…but nothing surprises me more than my mothers and their quick acceptance of my stowaways.
I go to retrieve them from the barn, shuffling my feet feebly on the floor as I explain.
“Can we trust them?” Gwen asks.
She’s sitting on an overturned crate, her hands pressed between her knees.
“I don’t think we have a choice,” I say honestly.
As far back as I can remember, I don’t have memories of my mothers ever taking a stand politically one way or another. The fact that I don’t know where they stand surprises me. Don’t we talk in this family? Tahira stares down at her feet, saying nothing.
“Hey!” I say. “You’re not going back to that place. I promise.”
