The Gift-Giver by Joyce Hansen

them." I thought about Sherman and Amir, all separated from their family. "Please, let me help. I don't want to live nowhere but here."
    My father looked at me. "So many things could happen to you and Gerald when me and your mother is out. Your aunt got a nice house in Queens. She won't mind."
    "I want to stay here." I never could understand what
was so great about Mavis's house. Everything was so clean you was afraid to breathe. Cause your bad breath might leave a film over some of her precious decorations. You couldn't touch nothing. You couldn't move around. I couldn't even go to the bathroom in her house. It just didn't seem like the right thing to do. And my father know he can't stand her house neither. I heard him say one time that he couldn't understand a house that had no smells in it. That it was like nobody lived there.
    My mother said, "See, honey, I could work longer hours if I know I don't have to worry about you and Gerald being here alone."
    "Would Gerald go with me too?"
    "No, that'd be too much. Gerald could stay with your uncle in Brooklyn."
    "No. That's just like Amir and Sherman. You splitting me and Gerald up. If I got to go to Mavis I want my brother to come with me."
    My parents was shocked. They just stared at me with their mouths open. I surprised my own self too. Guess I didn't know how much I loved that pesty baby.
    "I ain't no baby. I'm ten going on eleven. I could take care of things."
    My father said, "She is growing up."
    "I always wanted my little girl to enjoy her girlhood. I didn't want to put no burdens on her. She's gonna have them soon enough."
    "Ma, please. I'll surprise you."
    My father said, "Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Grant could look in on them to see if everything's okay. It'll only be for a while."
    "Ma, please?"
    "I hate to see little girls taking care of babies and houses and trying to do a woman's job," my mother said.
    "You say she never wants to help. Now she does," my father said. He sounded so tired.
    "Daddy, let me mind Gerald. I can. I promise."
    My mother looked at me. "Doris, if I don't watch you every second now, you'd be over in that playground running wild. How I'm gonna trust you with the baby?"
    "Ma, I promise. I won't go nowhere."
    "I'd be worried sick."
    "Ma, I'll just stay in the house. You could call me on the phone."
    Then my father said, "I don't like my children running loose. Or my wife not being able to mind them 'cause she got to work, to help."
    "Ma, Daddy, why don't you just trust me for once?"
    They looked at each other. "Well, maybe Mrs. Grant and Mrs. Johnson will keep an eye on them," my father said. "And you won't be gone all day. Maybe we can try it."
    Lord, I said to myself, I'm going to have
three
mothers now.
    "If Mrs. Grant or Mrs. Johnson say they'll look in on them, then I'll do it," my mother said.
    "Okay. And if this arrangement don't work out we'll have to do something else."
    The baby came stumbling over to me. He grinned like he knew what we was talking about.
    "Mama, you want me to ask Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Grant now?"
    "No, Doris, just wait. Me and your father will ask them."
    "So when you gonna start, Ma—tomorrow?"
    "You just can't wait to see me leave."
    "When Daddy start his part-time jobs?"
    "Day after tomorrow."
    "You gonna want me to start the dinner and do the food shopping. Maybe I'll go to the laundry in the morning and then buy the food in the afternoon. Then I'll clean the house later."
    My mother laughed. "Girl, you go from one extreme to the other. All I want you to do is mind Gerald and keep you and him safe till me and your father get home. You don't have to do nothing else except keep that junky room of yours clean."
    Mrs. Grant and Mrs. Johnson said they'd look out for me and Gerald. My mother got a job and I was left alone with the baby.
    "Now, Doris, this is Mrs. Fox's number if you need me. It's hot and you don't have to be cooped up in this house. You can take Baby out and sit on the stoop. Now remember, no