Free Where Do You Stay by Andrea Cheng Page B

water is cool on my head, dripping down my neck into my shirt. Water the garden deep , Mama said, to keep the roots from coming up. Early morning’s best, before the sun rises. Then we’ll practice our duet before you go to school, once the whole way through.
    Aunt Geneva is rubbing my back. “I know it’s hard, I know. I know you miss your mama, Jerome. I do too, more than you even know, Jerome. There’s a hole there for me too, but having you fills it a little bit.” Aunt Geneva stops moving her hand. “I’ve been looking in the paper for a piano, did I tell you that?”
    I look up.
    “Uncle James says by the end of next month we may have enough saved for a used one, that is.”
    I take a deep breath, and we head over to the library.
    “You know, when we were little, your mother and I used to come down here. Of course Sy was always reading those big books with big words in them. Your mother was smart, you know that? I always wished I was smart like that, but words never came easy to me.”
    I breathe in the smell of books and air conditioning and Mama. We used to say how someday we’d get one ofthose nice downtown condominiums that’s only a quick walk to the library. Of course a river view would be nice too, Mama said, but we both agreed that the library was more important.
    I check out a book about a blind boy and his seeing-eye dog, and another one about famous African Americans that I think Monte will like too. Aunt Geneva takes out one about how to raise boys.
    “You already know that,” I tell her.
    “There’s always more to learn.”
    “Now you sound like Mama,” I say.

26
    I wake up early and head up the hill. Mr. Willie’s still not back. I water all the plants in the vegetable garden plus the four o’clocks, then I pinch the suckers off the little tomato plants the way Mama taught me. I wonder why they grow there if they aren’t good for anything. I check the cucumber vine. Under a big green leaf is a tiny prickly light green cucumber.
    Monte is there, following me like he always does. “How long until we can eat it?” he asks.
    “Depends on if it rains or not.”
    “But you watered.”
    “Watering’s not the same as rain,” I say.
    “Why not?”
    We hear a loud noise. Two trucks carrying dumpsters are coming slowly up the street. One pulls up by the mansion and the other stops in front of the carriage house.
    “They’re tearing it down,” I whisper to Monte. “For real.”
    “What about Mr. Willie?”
    “He’s not home now.”
    “I know. But we better tell them somebody’s living inthere. We better tell them not to mess with Mr. Willie’s stuff.”
    “We can’t,” I say, feeling my throat swell.
    “Why not?”
    “This whole place belongs to Ginny and Tom,” I say slowly. “So they can do whatever they want with it.”
    Ginny is walking toward us. “Is this your brother?”
    “My cousin,” I say.
    Monte looks at me like Why didn’t you just say yes , but I’m not his brother yet.
    Ginny reaches out to shake Monte’s hand. “What’s your name?”
    “Delmonte,” he says.
    “Pleased to meet you, Delmonte.”
    “He’s called Monte,” I say.
    “Monte, then.”
    Tom comes out of the mansion carrying three boxes that he tosses into the dumpster. The men follow behind with plasterboard and broken screens. It’s hard to believe how much junk has been sitting in there, all smelly and rusty and broken. “Maybe they’ll leave Mr. Willie’s house alone,” Monte says.
    “I told you, it’s not Mr. Willie’s.”
    Ginny comes out carrying a heavy box. I help her lift it into the dumpster. “Thank you, Jerome,” she says. “You’re a lot stronger than I am.”
    “What’s in these boxes?” I ask.
    “Very moldy books,” she says. “A lot of them. By the way, we went down last night and looked for the piano you’ve been talking about, but there’s nothing like that down there.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “It’s not as if a piano can really