Sissy Spacek Chemo Patient (pt 4).

Jackie listens to her cousin, imagining that the words are like butterflies that push their way out of her mouth and flutter about in the amazing breeze that reeks of dead leaves and fish from the river. It’s so much prettier that way when people tell you they expect the worst from you – but then Jackie holds up a hand, her bangles clinking down her wrist. You want me to get you pregnant, she says. That’s what I just heard you say.

You said you still got all the parts, Money says. They are seated Indian style on top of a picnic table chained to the ground just out of the reach of the shadow of the Health & Welfare building playing recess hand-clap games.

This is true, Jackie says, and yes they work magnificently when called upon, but bitch you keep talking nightmare shit one after the other. You can’t think this is going to work.

It will, Money says. My mom says it will.

You don’t need me to tell you about her, Jackie says. You know who got you in here.

Money pulls her hands back, folding them in her lap. I don’t want to talk about that.

A gust of wind catches in the eaves of the L-shaped building, causing the leaves to spring up into a twirling column ten feet high before collapsing. That happens all the time, Money says. Sometimes it looks like people trying to sneak around in leaf suits.

Faye said your man is coming back next year, Jackie says. Even if…that worked, baby doll it won’t look like him, you know our momma was white.

My mom says it’ll work, Money says, drawing a trembling hand across her mouth. I like him and he’s real good to me. He’d be such a good daddy, too.

No, Jackie says. No ma’am. You don’t know a thing about me asking me to do that.

Money picks at the names etched into the paint of the table. At the swears, the pleas.

Here’s some stuff you don’t know, Money says after taking a deep breath. Shawn got me pregnant before you left. He didn’t even know about it because you were gone –

Jackie roars and throws herself at Money, knocking her backward off the table; they land hard and Jackie feels hot pain wrench up her shoulder, caught under her cousin as they hit the concrete patio. Money’s got her other wrist held down so Jackie bites her hard until she shrieks and rolls off, scrambling to her feet.

I’m going to rip your cunt off, Jackie says; she throws her wig to the ground.

It was just fucking, Money says. Blood is blooming through her shirt sleeve. Whatever was between you was between you.

Jackie goes at her again, but Monica Rose has been fighting the neighborhood off since she got her first period. She lands a punch that scrambles Jackie’s head, and throws her into a tree, sitting on her. Momma made me give it up, Money says; she has one hand on Jackie’s throat and the other drawn back in a fist. I wanted to keep it. I wished he’d fucking at least known about it but you had to run away with him.

She hits Jackie again and stands, panting. Jackie’s lips are split; her left eye is closed.

I thought you were going to ask me to steal you a baby, she says with a croaking laugh.

My mom was, Money says. I just want what you owe me. She kicks Jackie in the side, knocking the wind from her, and by now the orderlies have noticed and are rushing across the lawn at Money who holds her hands up in surrender. My mom’s got it figured out, she says over her shoulder as they drag her off. Don’t fuck around Jackie, do a good thing.

When the doors close it is absolutely silent outside until the trees roar and another column of leaves rises in front of her. Jackie snatches her wig from it and tells it to die.