Free Dear Carolina by Kristy W Harvey Page B

nonsense.”
    I laughed and Pauline said, “I just never heard of no Trinidadian woman practicing Chinese medicine. Don’t make no sense.”
    Khaki shook her head. “She doesn’t only practice Chinese medicine. She does like everything. Indian medicine, Ayurvedic medicine, yoga therapy. She’s studied all over the world. She’s super brilliant.” Khaki paused to hug me. “She felt like this herb concoction was what my body was telling her it needed.”
    â€œYour who said what?” I said.
    Khaki shook her head. “I know. It’s insane.”
    I looked over into that brew on the stove and saw all sorts of ungodly sticks and leaves and whatnot just floating around in there. “I think you got taken,” I whispered. “That lady give you what the yard men didn’t get off the street.”
    â€œThat’s what I thought,” Khaki said, turning the stove on.
    â€œWhat you doing, baby?” Pauline asked.
    â€œMy body
feels
like this slop needs to boil down more.”
    My ankles and hips got to groanin’ and cracklin’ as I climbed up onto the stool at the counter. “What is that godforsaken potion?” I asked. It mighta looked like yard clippings, but it smelled worse than a plastic pie pan meltin’ in the oven.
    â€œIt’s
herbs
.”
    â€œHerbs? Don’t them things come in a pill or something?”
    Khaki pointed at me like I hit the nail on the head and let her hand slap back on her skinny thigh. “Exactly.”
    Pauline laughed and leaned right on over beside me.
    â€œLooks like that baby be coming any minute,” she said.
    I nodded. “I darn sure hope so. My feet and ankles get much bigger and they’re gonna bust all over the kitchen.”
    Khaki made a face. “That’s even grosser than this.”
    I felt my face getting right red, looked down at the white marble counter and then back up at Khaki. “I’m real sorry that I’m pregnant and you ain’t. It kind of makes me feel like bragging, struttin’ around here with my big belly.”
    â€œDon’t be silly,” Khaki said, waving her hand.
    To be downright honest, it didn’t feel all that bad. I ain’t never had much to brag about, growing up like I did. I never had a new car or the fancy shoes or even the best backpack. So, to have something that somebody else wanted. Well, it was kinda like gettin’ even in a way.
    But a baby ain’t the same kinda dream as a promotion at work or a string a’ pearls all your own. It ain’t the kinda thing you canjust pull yourself up by your bootstraps, dust off your overalls, and earn. If you ask me, it seems like a lotta the time the people who should have the youngens cain’t get pregnant and the ones who don’t have no business raising nobody pop ’em out like candy corn at Halloween.
    â€œSo what’s up with the princess?” Khaki asked.
    I smiled and said, “Well, I went to the doctor today, and he said that now that I’m thirty-seven weeks, I’m full term. She’ll be comin’ any time.” I weren’t scared when I said it. I knew childbirth was gonna hurt right fierce. But cain’t nobody tell you what it’s like to bring a baby home all alone, to be the only person responsible for another person’s raisin’. All I knew was that my back was achin’, my feet was swollen, I couldn’t get near a good night’s sleep, and I was as ready to pop as a chick pecking through an eggshell.
    But now I know: There’s being ready, and there’s being
ready
. When you’re nineteen, you don’t know the damn difference.

Khaki

    HOLES
    One of the ways I knew that I would be a good designer is that when I walk into a room, I always feel like it’s telling me something. It needs another piece of furniture, the addition of color—sometimes all the room is missing is a little