Free American Babe by Babe Walker Page B

fall from my left eye directly onto my iPhone screen. It was really a nice moment for me.
    On the drive home I found myself thinking about Knox and the fragility of life. Life was painful enough. Was there really anything good that could come from me telling Knoxthat Donna was most likely his real mom? Would that make him a happier person? A more fulfilled human being? I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t hurt him like that. Then I stopped at a nail salon I’d seen on the way to the Y, and I got a very quality mani/pedi by a beautiful Korean princess named Subin. She told me I looked like a movie star, and then I fell asleep in the pedicure chair for three hours.
    She just let me sleep. Thanks, Su-bin.

EIGHT
I Don’t Want Butter Cancer.
    I woke up the next day to a gorgeous presummer sunny-as-fuck morning. I was in a fabulous mood for no real reason. Love when that happens. As I came downstairs for a smoke, I noticed Donna’s bags were lined up on the floor by the front door. She was standing on the back porch when I got out there. Black Saint Laurent suede jacket with fringe, white tee, black tights, black Nikes. Boring.
    â€œLeaving so soon?” I asked her.
    â€œI’ve got to get back for work.”
    â€œThat’s chic, because I’m sure by work you mean a shoot with fucking Bruce Weber on a farm somewhere in Montanawith tons of gorgeous, rustic fauna and a painfully hot blond boy model.”
    Donna took a drag from her cigarette and smiled.
    â€œHow close was I?”
    â€œFrighteningly.”
    â€œAnd you couldn’t put your life on hold for one extra day to spend some time with your family?”
    â€œI’m not fighting with you about this. It was really nice for us all to be together yesterday. I’m glad you were able to meet your family. Can’t we just end this on a positive note?”
    I took a long, weighted look at Donna, long enough to make her squirm just a little bit.
    â€œI used to think it was cool that you were such a bitch but now I think it’s sad. Not for me, I’m over that part of it. But for you.”
    I flicked my cigarette over the side of the deck and turned back to the door.
    â€œI’m gonna go wake Knox and Cara up, we’re going shopping today. Have a wonderful shoot.”
    Donna didn’t respond, and we never said bye before she left.
    â€œK nox?” I whispered into the dark room at the top of the stairs. His room was kept neat. No signs of a ten-year-old boy, no posters on the wall, no fucking lava lamp or anythingbasic like that. It looked more like an IKEA catalogue than a real room in the real world. Or at least what I’d imagine an IKEA catalogue to look like.
    He was sleeping quietly, folded into a ball in the corner of his twin bed. Navy-and-white sheets. Down pillows. Better than the guest bed. Maybe I’d request to sleep in his bed for the rest of my stay. No. Too much.
    Waking him felt like a crime. He was so precious there, probably right in the middle of a REM cycle, but he’d asked me to wake him up as soon as I got up, so wake him up I would.
    â€œKNOX!” I screamed.
    He literally jumped out of bed. He was wearing black leggings and an extralong T by Alexander Wang shirt/dress. I mean, I used to have the same shirt and I wore it as a dress. It really was a dress, not a shirt. He was wearing a dress. It was major.
    â€œAAAAaarrrrggghhhhhh!!!” Knox screamed back at me like a wild gorilla defending her band. A group of gorillas is called a band. And FYI a group of cockroaches is called an intrusion and a group of dolphins is a pod. Google it.
    â€œOhmigod!! You scared the shit out of me.”
    â€œSorry, babes! Just wanted to get you up so we could start going through and doing that closet edit we’d talkedabout. You know, before we shop. I need to know what type of canvas we’re working with. Capiche?”
    He looked slightly stunned. I think he was still