Birthday
Mary lives with her younger sister, her two brothers (one older, one younger), and her Mama in one of the Chicago projects they tore down in the late nineties. I'm with a girl named Hope. We take the train in from the suburbs and walk the last mile down to Taylor Street and find the right entrance.
Mary and her family live up a few flights of stairs, behind a battered, iron-gated door. Their apartment has a kitchen where Mama makes us chitterlings at Thanksgiving, a living room, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. The main bedroom, the one with the bed, is where Mama entertains clients. There are two lightbulbs for the apartment, which I (being tall) help move to where they are currently needed.
Hope and I are part of a college group that visits Lower Wacker Drive every Saturday night, making friends with the people that live underneath the Sears Tower. We meet one of Mama's boyfriends on Lower Wacker, and he introduces us to Mary's family. It's just the two of us visiting today.
Today there's a boombox playing music in the apartment. I follow Hope inside. Beyond the iron gate and battered door we learn that it is Mary's birthday. A few friends are over, and the kids are all dancing in the living room. Mary has no cake, and no gifts except for friendship bracelets. The one Mary gives me is red, white, and blue, and is still tied around the neck of my guitar. Friendship bracelets, and snow. The first snow of the season falls on our way back to the train station. Skipping along under the streetlights, Hope and I catch the snowflakes on our tongues.
