Perseids

My mom told us that we were looking for the meteor shower that August night in 1994. I think she must have read about it in the papers during the week. Under the glow of Brianna’s plastic battery-powered lamb nightlight, we huddled together under the stars in the paved alleyway alongside our house, next to the shabby tent and telescope that Michael left when he moved out. I helped Mom drag the comforter and old down sleeping bags onto the concrete to make the night a little softer, a little more comfortable, and so Bree wouldn’t see the ants marching through the cracks and melt down like she always did when she saw bugs. I was thinking of the ice cream that was melting down in the freezer and tried to tame my teenage rage. I had bought it with my own money and now it would be ruined. The whole night would be ruined. I was furious at the ice cream for melting and furious at Bree for leaving the freezer door open when the power went out. I was furious at our landlord and the summer swelter and furious most of all at my Mom for putting us in this mess in the first place. I was old enough to know they turned off our power but not old enough to understand why. The whole block spread with darkness and was dotted with dim beams of flashlights from yard to yard.

It didn’t happen all the time, the black-outs, but it seemed like they were happening more and more since Michael moved out. Mom made us keep the lights off for most of the day when we were home, and we had to unplug everything when we left the house for trips, except for the fridge. She wouldn’t even let us use the air conditioner unless the thermometer on the back porch went past 85 degrees Fahrenheit. I always got in trouble when she came home from her double shift to find us reading books in Bree’s cooled room.

“Mom, she was freaking out. I had to put it on so she’d stop crying, okay? It’s been like a hundred degrees in here for the past two hours!!” I’d shout. I never shouted at her when Michael lived with us, but without him, I felt no reason to hold back. She would just stare at me and the fight she knew she’d lose, and then she’d sigh while walking over to the A/C, flip it off, and walk out of the room silently. I’d slam the door shut and lope back to the wall unit, flipping it on with a little more force than necessary. The temperature dial was taped on from when I had wrenched it too hard after a different argument. Brianna and I would cuddle together on her bed and I’d pick up whatever book I was reading to her, trying to let the whir of the fan drown out the quiet sobs from the next room.

A scatter of tiny white lines diffused across the sky. The meteor shower was under way.

“Bree! Did you see it?” I whispered, excitedly. She was still pouting from the freezer incident. “Look! They’re still coming, you can see them right there!”

    “No!” she whined petulantly. “I missed it! I wanna see it, too!”

    “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I shushed as she wept into my sleeve.

    “Nicky, don’t get her hopes up,” Mom scolded. She was coming in and out of the house, bringing out sandwiches, chips, and other foods that would spoil or grow damp overnight. 

    “I’m not, I saw it!” I sighed exasperatedly. I hated when she didn’t believe me. I know I didn’t give her much reason to trust me, but I wouldn’t lie about something cool like this, and I told her so. 

    “Nicole.”

    “MOM.”

    She stood up again and brushed crumbs from her jean shorts while picking up one of the small flashlights we had piled next to the yellowed dimly glowing lamb.

“I’m going to grab some pops from the fridge. Please don’t make your sister crazy tonight.”

She made her way back inside, trying to avoid the pile of toys and junk we kept by the back door, and I turned back towards Brianna. I could see her straining her eyes to see them, but the light show seemed to be taking a break. She leaned against me and played with the seam of her sleeping bag, coaxing little down feathers out of the break in the fabric by the tag.

“Nicky, why are the lights off again?”

“Probably because Mom didn’t pay the bills.”

“Why didn’t she pay the bills?”

“Because she can’t afford it.”

“But why can’t she afford it?”

I honestly didn’t know, and I told Brianna so. She was gone all day, all night. She worked two jobs and also picked up weekend work cleaning houses for rich people. It didn’t make sense to me why we never had anything: no new clothes, nothing fun to do, sometimes no food, and no power. Luckily, before Michael left, he’d figure out how to steal cable from the street so at least we had something to watch until the cable company figured it out. 

“Will we go to jail?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I miss Michael.”

“Yeah, me too.” Michael had only been gone for about 3 months by that point, long enough that we were starting to forget what he looked like, but not so long that we forgot about everything that made him the best step-dad/fake-dad you could want.

    Mom came back with cans of cola and handed us each one. The condensation on the can felt warm and wet against our hands, which only added to the building frustration.

    “The can is wet,” Brianna whined.

    “This is what we’ve got, babe,” Mom replied.

    “I’m only drinking diet,” I grumbled.

    “What. We’ve. Got,” Mom gritted out.

    A punctuated silence blanketed over us as we settled into the sky view. The meteors were doing a “blink and you’ll miss it” dance, and every time Mom saw one, I didn’t, and when I saw one, Brianna didn’t. We could never see what each other saw. Brianna couldn’t take much more and started to wail, and we heard a neighbor yell at us to shut the fuck up. My mom cursed back at the angry disembodied voice, and started to weep. I boiled over.

    “Michael left because of you, you know,” I spit out in a harsh whisper while Brianna buried her face into my armpit, sobbing. “You can’t do ANYTHING right.”

    “Michael left because he found another sugar mama to steal from, Nicky, okay? He took our money and he LEFT,” she bit back.

    “That’s not true!” my hero-worshiping brain couldn’t wrap itself around him being a villain. Mom sighed, looking embarrassed and regretful.

    “I know how much he meant to you guys. I know you thought the world of him. I just… Nicky, when you’re older, you’ll understand. Some men make you think they have all the power, that they’ll take care of you forever. But, they don’t, they won’t. And we just need to figure out how to do it ourselves,” she sighed deeply, and under the dim nightlight, the lines on her face were in sharp relief. She looked tired, more tired than I ever realized. Shame washed over me.

    “I’m sorry,” I muttered, trying to see through the hot tears that were forming in my eyes.

    “None of us are perfect, my love,” she leaned over and rubbed my head. “I see how good you are with your sister, and I’m glad you have each other. Just, I’m trying, really hard, and it’s not easy, and I’m doing my best. Can you cut me some slack? Please?”

    “Yeah,” I said to the tiny down feathers next to my knees. 

    “I SEE THEM!!” Brianna interrupted. Up in the night sky there was a burst of meteors, bright and clear. “Do you see? They are right there!”

We paused and looked up at the sky. I didn’t want to think about Michael. I didn’t wanna think about the sacrifices Mom was making for us. That was for another time. For now, the celebration of light was enough, and tonight would be about being together under the tapestry of shooting stars.