One Door From Heaven

rattle and clatter of steely leg brace, though she had climbed the three back steps with no noise.
        This had been worse than a sucky day. The language necessary to describe Micky's job search in its full dreadfulness would not merely have embarrassed Aunt Geneva; it would have shocked and appalled her. Therefore, at the arrival of the disabled girl, Micky was surprised to feel the same buoying expectation that had kept her from drowning in self-pity since she'd moved in here.
        "Mrs. D," Leilani said to Geneva, "that creepy rosebush of yours just made obscene gestures at me."
        Geneva smiled. "If there was an altercation, dear, I'm sure you started it."
        With the thumb on her deformed hand, Leilani gestured toward Geneva, and said to Micky, "She's an original. Where'd you find her?"
        "She's my father's sister, so she was part of the deal."
        "Bonus points," said Leilani. "Your dad must be great."
        "Why would you think so?"
        "His sister's cool."
        Micky said, "He abandoned my mother and me when I was three."
        "That's tough. But my useless dad skipped the day I was born."
        "I didn't know we were in a rotten-dad contest."
        "At least my real dad isn't a murderer like my current pseudo-father-or as far as I know, he isn't. Is your dad a murderer?"
        "I lose again. He's just a selfish pig."
        "Mrs. D, you don't mind she- calls your brother a selfish pig?" "Sadly, dear, it's true."
        "So you aren't just bonus points, Mrs. D. You're like this terrific prize that turned up in a box of rancid old Cracker Jack."
        Geneva beamed. "That's so sweet, Leilani. Would you like some fresh lemonade?"
        Indicating the can of Budweiser on the table, the girl said, "If beer's good enough for Micky, it's good enough for me." Geneva poured lemonade. "Pretend it's Budweiser." To Micky, Leilani said, "She thinks I'm a child." "You are a child."
        "Depends on your definition of child." "Anyone twelve or younger."
        "Oh, that's sad. You resorted to an arbitrary number. That reveals a shallow capacity for independent thought and analysis."
        "Okay," said Micky, "then try this one on for size. You're a child because you don't yet have boobs."
        Leilani winced. "Unfair. You know that's one of my sore points." "No sore points. No points at all," Micky observed. "Flat as a slice of the Swiss cheese on that platter."
        "Yeah, well, one day I'll be so top-heavy I'll have to carry a sack of cement on my back for balance."
        To Micky, Aunt Gen said, "Isn't she something?" "She's an absolute, no-doubt-about-it, fine young mutant." "Dinner's ready," Geneva announced. "Cold salads and sandwich fixings. Not very fancy, but right for the weather."
        "Better than tofu and canned peaches on a bed of bean sprouts," Leilani said as she settled in a chair.
        "What wouldn't be?" Geneva wondered.
        "Oh, lots of things. Old Sinsemilla may be a lousy mother, but she can take pride in being an equally lousy cook."
        Switching off the overhead lights to save money and to avoid adding heat to the kitchen, Geneva said, "We'll use candles later."
        Now, at seven o'clock, the summer-evening sun was red-gold and still so fierce at the open window that the shadows, which draped but didn't cool the kitchen, were no darker than lavender and umber.
        Seated, bowing her head, Geneva offered a succinct but heart felt prayer: "Thank you, God, for providing us with all we need and for giving us the grace to be satisfied with what we have."
        "I've got trouble with the satisfied part," Leilani said.
        Micky reached across the dinette table, and the girl responded without hesitation: They slapped palms in a modified high-five.
        "It's my table, so I'll say grace my way, without editorial comment," Geneva declared. "And when I'm drinking pina coladas on a palm-shaded terrace in Heaven, what will they be serving in Hell?"
        "Probably this lemonade," said Leilani.
        Spooning pasta salad onto her plate, Micky said, "So, Leilani, you and Aunt Gen have been hanging out?"
        "Most of the day, yeah. Mrs. D is teaching me all about sex."
        "Girl, don't say such things!" Geneva admonished. "Someone will believe you. We were playing five-hundred rummy."
        "I would have let her win," said Leilani, "out of courtesy and respect for her