Jubilee Read online

  During the ceremony, Rosana held Jubilee, but Jayden stood beside Joshua, his best little man in matching sky-blue vest and bow tie, both with hair greased into corkscrew curls, cocoa butter brightening their faces. The justice of the peace was a woman with thick burnt-sienna braids in cornrows and a broad smile. She didn’t blink an eye when Joshua’s bride stepped through the artificial flower-wreathed arches cradling a motionless, fabric-and-vinyl painted baby whose skin folded and dimpled in at her tiny hands, whose downy hair curled in patches on her indented skull. As if it were everyday a beautiful woman walked down the aisle holding a doll she then handed to her mama. Or maybe the justice had believed Jubilee was a living, breathing infant—as many people had, from a distance. As he had, when he first met Bianca.

  Bianca wore a vintage-style lace dress, sleeves to her elbows, scalloped edges around her collarbones; she’d bought it from a thrift store, she’d told Joshua, recalling a girlhood horror story she’d read about a woman who wore a secondhand wedding dress, only to die on her honeymoon from embalming-fluid poisoning, for the dress had come from a corpse bride. She’d laughed wryly when she told him this, and he’d marveled at her darkness, her light. It’s my poison dress, she said. He’d laughed and answered, Let’s get it dry cleaned, just to be safe.

  Once she reached him at the altar, she whispered, “Do I make a lovely corpse?” Her long curls were swept to the side and clipped with an orchid, and she wore dangling pearl earrings. She looked like a sea queen. Something regal risen from the depths.

  “A perfect corpse bride,” he whispered back, winking. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

  When the justice said, till death parts you, Joshua pictured Bianca and him on the silt-thick marsh of the island of dolls, hand in hand, frozen. He shook his head to rid himself of the macabre image, and she cocked hers slightly, watching him. He took her hand, ceremony be damned, pressed it to his lips. Mouthed, I love you, Bee. She smiled, whispered, “Don’t make me cry.”

  When Joshua married Bee, he and Jayden were swept into a family.

  They’d planned to go out for dinner afterward, but Rosana insisted they stop by Abuela’s so she and Abuelo could congratulate them. The family understood they didn’t have money to spend on a wedding since they were saving for the baby, but newlyweds, Rosana said, still deserved a blessing.

  “Does everyone know you’re pregnant?” Joshua whispered behind Rosana’s back, but Bianca only rolled her eyes and shrugged.

  From the courthouse steps, Jayden asked Bee to hold him, and Joshua laughed because that boy was big enough he didn’t need holding. Of course, Bee scooped him up, and Jayden wrapped his legs around her waist and clasped his feet together at her back. “You’re ours now,” he chirped, squishing her cheeks between both his hands so her face looked chubby.

  “Yes, I am,” she said, laughing and puckering her lips as he brought his lips to hers.

  They all piled into his Ford Focus; Joshua buckled Jubilee’s car seat and Jayden’s booster seat. He leaned into Bee as he opened the car door for her, kissing his wife, his beautiful island bride. She whispered in his ear, “The wonders of this world.”

  “Congratulations!” Bianca’s entire family was crowded into Abuela’s living room, dressed in Sunday clothes and holding presents, spilling into the dining room and up the staircase. Cousins, aunts, uncles, abuelos, padrinos, madrinos, compadres, all filled the sprawling house, which was decorated with streamers, balloons, and a handmade sign reading “Blessings to the Newlyweds, Bianca & Joshua.” A wedding cake with turquoise piping and flowers towered in the middle of the dining room table. Abuela came from the kitchen, apron-waisted, wooden spoon in hand. Her short brown hair coiffed elegantly, her brown eyes, soft.

  “Mija. Mijo, come in,” she said. “We made a party for you. And Jayden, mijito, come to your abuelita.” She stooped to kiss him, but he grabbed the spoon and wiggled out of her arms. Joshua raised his eyebrows and shot him a stern look that meant be polite.

  “Can I help you cook, Abuelita?” Jayden asked, sugar-voiced. That kid.

  “Of course, mijo. Wash your hands first and no running in my kitchen.”

  Jayden ran to the bathroom, dropping the wooden spoon on the floor.

  Joshua bent to pick it up. “He’s a handful, I know.”

  “Don’t worry about it, mijo. He’s fine. You go be with your wife. We’ll take care of Jayden. Go sit down. I’ll fix you a plate.”

  Bee’s cousin, noticeably more pregnant than Bee, her popped-out belly button showing through a maternity dress, introduced herself as Bella (pronounced with a y instead of an l, which he knew meant beautiful in Spanish). Bella took Jubilee’s infant car seat from Bee, unfastened and held Jubilee close to her body, above her own protruding belly. A crazy impulse came over Joshua, and he was tempted to touch his wife’s cousin’s pregnant stomach. Bella smiled at them, and Joshua felt a twinge of guilt. She knew what you were thinking, weirdo. People did it all the time, touched pregnant women. But the thought made him feel dirty. He scooted closer to Bee, grabbed her hand and entwined his fingers between hers.

  “Does she need a bottle or anything, Bee?” Bella asked, in a way that creeped Joshua out. Even though Rosana, Matty, Handro, and he all played along, it was surreal seeing it from an extended family member. It was like she’d intruded upon their game. And the affectedness of her tone irritated him. He watched to see how Bianca would react.

  Did she seem skeptical too, or was he projecting?

  “Thanks, prima,” she said at last. “There’s a bottle in my bag.”

  The discomfort was broken by Tía Lydia, who came up briskly and kissed each of them on the cheek. He knew that Tía Lydia was a preacher’s wife, and he noted her pearl-pink suit and bright-fuchsia lipstick, which Bee had mentioned before. A kiss mark on someone’s cheek in the Flores household meant Tía Lydia had been there. He wiped his face with the back of his hand.

  “Did you see the cake I made for you?” she asked.

  “You made that, Tía?” Bee said, pulling away to hug her aunt with both arms. “It’s gorgeous. Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” Joshua echoed, a strange mixture of claustrophobia and gratitude. For a second, he imagined Olivia’s dark face in the crowd. Again, he wished for Patti. She would’ve been proud. She would’ve liked Bee (sans doll, but still).

  Bee squeezed his hand. “I’ll check on Jubilee. Hang out with the guys in the family room.”

  He watched from the kitchen as Bianca buzzed into her abuela’s dining room with that halo of self-assured belief encircling her and reclaimed Jubilee from Bella. Beside her, another cousin, Dora, nursed a baby under a blanket. All of Bee’s female cousins were either pregnant or had young children. Joshua reluctantly headed into the family room where the “men” watched football (except for Matty and Handro, who were outside with Bee’s mom at a patio table, and Jayden, who stood on a step stool in the kitchen, helping stir a pot). Abuelo and the rest of Bee’s male cousins and uncles spread out across the couches and folding chairs, drinking beers (Abuelo drank Pepsi instead of beer) and eating chips, intermittently shouting at the television, joking and laughing. An uncle called out, “Hey, Josh. Come in, man. Take a seat.” Joshua took a shallow breath, stopped himself from pulling out his inhaler. He dropped into an empty folding chair, feeling robotic. He should’ve stayed with Bee or gone outside with Matty when he had the chance. Now he was trapped.

  “Hey, man.” Another uncle, this one much younger, came and sat beside Joshua, shaking his hand. In his other hand was a beer. His breath reeked of it. “I’m Oscar. Bee’s tío.” He was light-haired and green-eyed, and the cuffs of his black button-down shirt showcased the tattoos on his forearms.

  Joshua shook his hand. “Hey.”

  “So you married Bianca? You sure you know what you’re getting into there, homeboy? She’s pretty loony.” Joshua’s jaw clenched, muscles
stiffened. He thought back to Thanksgiving, how not all the faces they had passed in the crowded family smiled as Bee walked past with Jubilee.

  “Don’t talk about my wife that way,” he managed through clamped teeth. His heart rate sped; he reached for the inhaler in his suit pocket.

  “Look, sorry, man, but somebody should tell you. My niece is sick. Batshit. Mental.”

  Abuelo stood and smacked his son on the head. “¡Ay qué la fregada, Oscar! Have some respect for your niece. That’s his wife.” He turned to Josh, the age lines on his forehead and around his eyes furrowed deeper. “Don’t listen to him, hijo. He’s had too much to drink.”

  Oscar ducked away from his father but didn’t let up. “Everyone protects her, but this pedo stinks, man. I’m sick of this loony bin. I’ve been holding my peace a long time. But it’s not right, you feel me? You have that little boy to think about.” He motioned toward Jayden in the kitchen, who’d been busy with Abuela.

  “You leave him out of this,” Joshua said, his face burning. But Jayden had already turned to watch the commotion.

  “Come on, mijo, let me go show you my roses outside in the front yard,” Abuela said as she ushered Jayden out of the kitchen. He looked toward Joshua, worried. Joshua nodded.

  Matty, Handro, and Rosana rushed in through the screen door.

  “What’s going on in here?” Matty asked.

  “Oh great, here comes the silence patrol,” Oscar mocked, rolling his eyes. “The keep-everything-a-big-secret police.”

  “Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?” Matty said, his deep voice rising. The back of Joshua’s neck felt prickly. He hadn’t meant to start a fight.

  “Cool it, man,” Oscar said, laughing. “I’m only warning this poor sap what he’s getting into with your crazy sister. Since I’m the only one who cares this shit is insane.”

  “Oscar,” Bee’s mom snapped. “You’re drunk. Leave it alone.”

  “Look, thanks for the advice, Oscar,” Joshua said, forcing a chuckle. “I know what I’m getting into, okay? I love her.”

  “Fine, play house with the loca. What do I care?”

  “What’d you call her?” Matty demanded. Handro put his hand on his partner’s shoulder, bracing him, or holding him back. Matty’s demeanor reminded Joshua of a bull.

  “You heard me. Your sister’s loca, and everybody knows it. Watcha gonna do, mariposa?” Oscar laughed.

  Matty shrank back against Handro then balled his right fist and moved toward Oscar, but before he could reach him, Abuelo stood in front of him and yelled, “¡Basta ya! Muchachos, that’s enough,” slamming the remote control against the coffee table so the battery case fell open. “This is my home. And I won’t put up with this disrespect.” He turned to Oscar. “You’d better shut your mouth, son, or get out of here with your vulgar language.”

  “Yeah, Oscar, let it go, man,” another uncle said, reaching for Oscar’s colorful-sleeved arm, but Oscar shrugged him away, puffing out his chest defensively. A bird with his plumage.

  “Hey, why’s everyone so quick to defend Rosana’s misfits, eh? You’re all so politically correct now you can’t even speak the truth? The loca, the mariposa, the negro,” Oscar mumbled. “I just call it like I see it.”

  Joshua sucked in sharply, his stomach aching.

  “That’s it. Get out,” Abuelo yelled, the veins in his neck bulging. “I don’t know where you learned that kind of behavior, muchacho, but not in my house.”

  Bianca stood in the doorway, clutching Jubilee. How long had she been there? What had she heard?

  “Thank you, Abuelo,” she said, moving into the room and kissing him on the cheek. “We’ll leave instead.”

  Joshua felt sick. It’s your fault, Joshy. His chest tightened as Bianca turned to Oscar and slapped him hard across the face. Her uncle’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t flinch or shift to strike her back.

  “I’m not deaf, or crazy. You homophobic, racist pendejo.”

  She took Joshua’s hand, steered him out the front door. They had to leave their own wedding party. His throat thickened.

  Outside on the porch, Abuela was letting Jayden pick her roses. “These are for you,” he said, handing Bee a bunch of white and yellow. “They have prickles.”

  Bee kissed him, wiping the tears from her own face.

  “I’m so sorry about that, mija,” Abuela said. “My son’s pigheaded. Some people just don’t get it. But we love you.”

  “I know you do, Abuela. Thank you for the party.”

  With her flowers in one hand and Jubilee in the other, Bee led them away.

  They didn’t have time to settle into a married-couple routine before the outside world found them. It had started with Oscar at the wedding. But a few days after that, Bee reclined on the apartment balcony reading, Jubilee beside her in a portable baby swing, and Joshua watched them from the living room where he’d just gotten off the phone. They hadn’t discussed the wedding party, even after Bee’s mom had brought them a Tupperware with a slice of cake and a Ziploc baggie with the plastic bride and groom toppers.

  Bee wasn’t reading her book. Joshua followed her gaze to a beam adjoining their porch with the neighbors’ where a glass jar of raspberry-jelly water hung from a string wrapped around a rafter. Inside, dozens of yellow jackets stacked on top of each other to keep from drowning. What a sick joke. Maybe he’d ask the neighbor to take it down.

  Bee’s hair webbed around her face. Someone with a need less intense than Joshua’s might have been turned off by the pulsing ache she came with. The sadness she carried like a candle, illuminating the gold of her eyes, gathering around her the way incense fills a room only after burning the stick. She was the curled edges of paper after the fire but before the ashes. He’d married her. Sadness and all. He’d married her and she was having their baby and there was no turning back.

  Through the screen, her eyes flickered toward him. “It’s cruel, luring them to their death.”

  He stood to join her, pulled out his inhaler, puffed it twice. “At least they die happy.”

  “Drowning would be the worst way to die,” she said. “Drowning in sticky red water.” Her face was pale and beads of sweat appeared above her lip. She seemed nervous, agitated. “Sometimes, I feel like a beekeeper, setting the trap. Other times, I’m struggling to get out but mired in muck.” Joshua nodded though he didn’t understand what she’d said. He was accustomed to her poetry, her strange moods. He thought of Jayden in the bathtub. She’d screamed that he was drowning. They remained silent as she stared at the yellow jackets, until she broke the silence with the question Joshua had hoped to elude a few seconds longer. “Who was on the phone?”

  A pit formed in his stomach. “Jayden’s caseworker.”

  “What’s up?” Bee sat up straighter, leaned toward him.

  The sick ache had been welling inside him since Oscar said that stupid shit at the wedding. “Random visit. She’s coming over next month. It happens sometimes in the foster care system.” He said it to placate Bee. Or himself. But he didn’t believe it. His gut felt too tight. No one had visited him and Jayden in almost two years. He couldn’t imagine anyone in her family would’ve called. But it didn’t seem like coincidence.

  Although Bee smiled, her eyes didn’t crease, so her smile wasn’t genuine but pasted to her face. “That’s normal, right? Nothing to worry about? You’re a great guardian.”

  “Not just me, Bee. We.” He said it aloud, the reality of the situation sinking in. He’d thought they’d have more time. Next month was too soon. He leaned against the patio rail, resting his head against the metal. “We,” he repeated, sighing.

  “Do you think they’ll approve of me?”

  He could’ve punched himself for not thinking this through earlier. Of course a social worker would have to come. He’d been stupid to think otherwise. He said nothing.

/>   Bee bit the cuticles around her nails. “What if the she calls me unfit too? Like Oscar? I know what people think of me. Gabe thought I was unfit.”

  “Gabe?” A pang of unexpected rage shot through Joshua. He felt like smashing his hand through the jelly water jar, throwing it against the balcony. “That bastard who caused you all this pain in the first place? How the hell would he know? How the hell would anyone know, but you and me?” He looked up and saw she was staring at him, an unreadable expression on her face. He couldn’t read her. That was the problem. He sighed again. “Look, the only thing anyone can say about you is that your love is tough. Stands at the edge of the cliff. Insists on flying.”

  “This was a mistake. Marrying me. That’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Dammit, Bee. That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “I love Jayden. You know that, right?”

  Joshua kneeled beside her, put his head in her lap. He’d find a way to show the caseworker they were fine. He looked at Jubilee in that swing. When had Bee’s treatment ended and his own delusion begun? He had to be honest with himself.

  “You’re not unfit,” he said, his head against her belly.

  Two nights later, she knelt on all fours in child’s pose on the living room floor. Prenatal yoga. She leaned over and stretched her body into a bridge, modified downward facing dog, knees bent. Her belly wobbled beneath her tank top. Joshua watched her. Ragdoll. Sun salute. Back to the mat. He watched as she wobbled, fell, onto her belly.

  He knelt beside her. “Are you hurt? Does anything hurt?”

  The Bianca he’d fallen in love with would have been laughing. Would’ve made a self-deprecating remark about her clumsiness. This Bianca whispered, “She’s dead. I know she’s dead.” Then louder, “Fucking help me, Josh!”

  “Calm down,” he said, freaked out by her hysteria. “You didn’t fall hard. She’s fine.” They didn’t know the gender. But Bee had said she.

  “Jubilee,” Bee cried. “She’s dead. I know she’s dead.”