“You think you're what?”
“Expecting a baby. Back in Shawnee, the maid found me out cold on the bathroom floor.”
From the corner booth, the woman who had been watching stood suddenly as if to leave, but when Erica smiled at her, she sat back down and stirred her drink.
“You never saw her once, did you?” Erica said. “You never saw anything.”
The people from the road appeared one by one. Through the din of the room, a voice croaked out: “When you see the flash, remember: duck and cover—” Two tables over, radio man nattered on to Carl over a stack of pancakes. Red and blue lights bounced against the walls, and the Virginia trooper entered the diner, began chatting with the gunshot grocer seated at the counter, who swiveled around on his stool to point out the murderers in the booth. Pushing through the swinging doors from the kitchen, their waitress morphed into Josie, laboring under a tray laden with night deposit bags filled with money, setting them down in front of Mrs. Gavin. Through the ceiling between two broad timber beams emerged the child, undulating softly to the floor and landing on her bare feet. Translucent, as she moved toward them, Una carried the light inside and gained brilliance with each step. The penumbra in the round glasses, who had been watching all along, loomed over all. Erica could no longer bear to witness. She cast her eyes away from these visions, stared at her cooling breakfast, the scoop of butter sliding to the plate, and looked again to Wiley, who was watching her, poised to explode.
“This woman Josie picked me up off the floor and gave me clothes and crackers and ginger ale. She told me she had seen it before, had kids of her own. The morning sickness, she knew right away.” His blank, unblinking eyes revealed no evidence of listening, much less thinking of all she was saying. “Your eggs are getting cold. Eat.”
“You expect me to have an appetite after you lay this on me?”
She glanced around the room to see if anyone was listening and leaned across the table to bring her face closer. “There's no reason to raise your voice. What will everyone think?”
He shouted at her. “I don't give a shit what everyone thinks!”
The patrons hushed at his outburst, and two burly men at the counter pivoted on their stools to face them, threatening to move farther at the next sound.
“Wiley, baby, it's all right. We'll get through this.”
“How can you be sure you're pregnant?”
“I've missed two periods. I didn't notice because of how sick I was back in Tennessee. It must have happened before we left home.”
“Missed? I thought you were on the pill.”
“They're in my dresser back home—”
“God, Erica, how could you be so stupid?”
The mint green waitress reappeared and announced her presence by clearing her throat. “Everything okay over here, kids?”
Without a word, Wiley sidled out of the booth and brushed past her, sailing off toward the men's room, and Erica buried her face in her hands. Through the darkness, she heard the waitress's voice, and as she unknitted her fingers, she saw the woman seated where Wiley had been. “Are you all right, Pudding?”
Erica reached for her juice glass and drained it in one long swallow. The buzz in the diner dissipated, and the crowd melted into the periphery. They were alone.
“He bothering you, child? Because I'll have Mitchell come round give him a talking-to.”
She shook her head. “We were having a spat. Everything's going to be fine.”
“You say so, Pood, but girl, you look a mess. Who did that to your hair? Your pinkie finger stuck in the plug socket?”
Her hand flew to her butchered scalp, working the runaway locks back into place. “I did it. Does it really look all that bad?” She laughed nervously.
A toothy grin flashed at her. “Naw, I just said so to make you smile. Sure you're okay? That boy didn't hurt you, did he?”
“No ma'am, like I said, nothing but a lovers’ quarrel. He loves me.” Doubt colored the tone of her words, and she recognized at once the woman doubted her as well. “We are going to be married in Las Vegas and have a baby together.”
“But you're just a baby yourself. None of my business, but don't seem to me he'll treat you any better after than he's treating you before. A man will show you his hand early on, if you're alive to it.”
“I don't believe you.”
“Ain't a matter of faith, Puddin’. They's belief and they's facts. This ain't the first time he shown his spots to you, is it? Best never put him in a cage in the first place. Just let him go.”
“I have faith in him.”
The waitress rose from the table and touched Erica's bare shoulder and the winged tattoo. “Ain't nothing too far gone you can't get back at your age.”