Free Tutored by Allison Whittenberg

place?”
    “You have a place?”
    “The place I’m staying at.”
    “What’s there?” she asked.
    “Me,” he said, and when that got no reaction from her, he added, “And Malikia.”
    Wendy cocked her head to the side and asked, “What’s a Malikia?”
    “The little girl I watch.”
    “What’s her name again?”
    “Malikia,” he repeated.
    Wendy had never heard that name before, and she mulled it over in her mind. She wondered if it was culturally based or purely fabricated. Moreover, she considered its derivatives. Could it ever be turned into a nickname? “Hi, Mal” or “Good afternoon, Liki.” She supposed in a pinch it would go something like this: “Hey there, Maliky.”
    “You want to see her?” he asked.
    Wendy stood up. “I’d love to.”

19
    H akiam felt a pang of guilt using a three-month-old as bait to gain back Wendy’s interest. But then, he thought, there were worse things he could do. Plus, he wanted to chart her movements once he got her into the ghetto.
    Call it a bad joke, but he always thought it was funny to see people out of their natural element. Wendy, as a fish tossed into a different pond, might faint at the smell of garbage or the sight of the urine stains in the corners of the hallways. Or she could trip trying to maneuver past the broken tiles of the flooring. As they hiked up to the third floor, he accidentally kicked a large chunk of peeling gray paint and left a thick black scuff mark in its place. It blended in with the others.
    Leesa opened the door. She had on clumsy makeup, a cheap blouse, and spandex bicycle pants. Her chin dropped to the floor when she saw Wendy.
    “Hello,” Wendy said, holding out her hand. “You must be Hakiam’s cousin.”
    Leesa up-and-downed Wendy and left her extended hand unshaken.
    Hakiam ushered Wendy past Leesa into the living room, where Malikia was. Wendy pulled a bottle of hand sanitizer out of her tote bag, murmuring something about guarding against RSV. She rubbed some of the liquid on, then asked to hold the baby. When Leesa shrugged, Wendy stretched out her arms and scooped up the baby.
    Malikia took to her magically. It was like a Madonna-and-child reunion. Wendy managed to do more “Itsy Bitsy Spider’s” and “Hey, Diddle Diddle’s” with Malikia than the little girl had heard in her whole life. Malikia cooed and moved her arms in a herky-jerky motion. Then she snuggled in close to Wendy.
    Pretty soon, Hakiam got to feeling like the T in a BLT sandwich: the last of the three. Malikia and Wendy threatened to squeeze him out altogether with their bonding exercises.
    He moved to the edge of the room and stood as an onlooker, like his cousin. Leesa clicked her tongue and told Hakiam, “Malikia don’t know none of that nursery-rhyme junk. All that’s doing is going in one ear and out the other.”
    Hakiam clucked back at her, “Then it ain’t doing no harm.”
    Leesa picked up her cherry Slurpee and took a gulp.“She’s pretty skinny, Hakiam. I didn’t know you liked them like that.”
    “Who said I liked her?” he asked.
    Leesa said, “Nobody.”
    Hakiam nudged her. “You could offer her something.”
    “Like what? This is my Slurpee.”
    “We got water, don’t we?”
    “
We
ain’t got nothing.
I
got some water.”
    “Well, you gonna stand around being stingy with it? She gave your daughter a onesie. Be a hostess, damnit.”
    Leesa’s face hardened, but she did make a move toward Wendy.
    “You want some water?” she asked her.
    Wendy was smiling when she said, “No thanks. I’m fine.” Then she went back to playing with Malikia.
    Hakiam gave Wendy props for staying in the hood past sundown. The evening sky had gone from streaked pink to pitch-black by the time they left the apartment.
    “What was that thing you said about ESP?” he asked as he walked her to her car.
    “You mean RSV. It’s a respiratory tract infection that can be serious in infants born prematurely. It sends thousands of