Pinky Promise

An old, dirty snow globe sits atop a computer desk in the living room. An interracial family portrait is beside it. Above, a giant calendar push-pinned onto the chipped, gray wall reads, “December 24, 2022.” A middle-aged woman kneels on a couch adjacent to the desk. She wears a white apron over a black, knee-length dress.

“Make a way, Father,” she prays. “Bless us with a great Christm—”

“Merry almost Christmas, Mama,” a depressed voice mutters from the hallway.

The woman peers over at her ten-year-old son whose head hangs low. She rises from her knees and her name tag reveals her identity – Shirley. She slowly approaches the kid.

“Astro, what’s wrong?” she questions. “Is this about that BMX bike again?”

“But Mama, all my friends have one,” Astro replies as he pouts. “Pleaseee?”

Shirley gently touches his head.

“Son, I would have to clean at least five houses by the end of the day to make that kind of money,” she explains. “$500 is hard to come by these days.”

Astro drags his feet and moves toward the couch. He slumps down onto the cushions.

“But I’ve been begging since last year,” he says. “And I even got the highest exam results last week.”

Shirley’s face fills with empathy.

“You have a point there, son,” she admits. “You have been doing amazing in school. I’ll see what I can do, alright?”

Excitement fills Astro's body. He bounces out of the couch and gallops to Shirley with an outstretched pinky finger.

“Pinky promise?! Pinky promise?!” Astro shouts as he hops up and down.

Shirley smiles slightly before giving in. They lock fingers.

“Okay, okay. Pinky promise,” she chuckles. “Now go freshen up. I have to leave for work in a few minutes.”

Astro skips away and disappears down the corridor and into his room. Shirley strolls over to the computer table and grabs her phone. She opens her mobile banking app. Her eyes widen and she releases a deep sigh. The available balance reads, “$153.80.” Shirley rests the phone down and heads to her room. Suddenly, it rings off the hook and a voicemail plays aloud.

“Hey, uh, Shirley? It’s Brandon,” the deep voice announces. “I’m sorry to inform you, but we are downsizing our staff.”

Shirley slowly creeps out into the living room like she’s seen a ghost. The voice continues.

“Unfortunately, your services are no longer needed,” he says. “It was a pleasure having you. Thanks for all your help. Take care.”

The voicemail ends and the disconnection tone screams from the phone. Shirley is in so much disbelief that her pain doesn’t even show. She turns around and slams her room door shut.

A few hours later, Shirley sits in the living room at the computer desk and scrolls through maid job openings on her laptop. The immense stress drips from her face. Abruptly, Astro enters the living room rubbing his eyes. She swiftly slams the laptop shut.

“Why are you still here, Mama?” he interrogates.

“Uhm, my boss switched my schedule,” she replies. “I have work in about an hour or so.”

Astro walks over to the desk and picks up the family portrait. He examines the black male with dreadlocks in the photo.

“Will Hank be coming for Christmas this year?” he asks Shirley.

“I honestly don’t know, son,” she responds as she takes the portrait and stares at Hank. “I’m still upset with him for missing last year. We haven’t spoken since then.”

Shirley picks up her phone and opens Hank’s chat. The final messages reads:

“Date: December 25, 2020”

Shirley: “Where are you? We’re waiting…”

“Date: December 26, 2020”

Hank: “I’m sorry! I got soooo wasted again.”

“February 3, 2021”

Hank: “I need your help. Meet me at the same spot in 30 minutes!”

Hank: “Shirley?”

Astro interrupts her reading.

“I wish dad was still here,” he sighs.

Shirley pulls Astro close and kisses him on the forehead.

“Me too, son,” she says. “Me too. But mommy’s going to do some work now, okay?”

Astro nods and heads for his room again. Shirley looks at the portrait once more, then opens her laptop and continues to scroll. In the distance, footsteps quickly approach the front door. A paper slides underneath and into the living room. Shirley hesitantly walks over to it and picks it up. Atop the page reads, “EVICTION NOTICE – 3 DAYS.” Shirley is visibly fed up. She crumples the paper, slams it in the trash, and darts to her bedroom.

Shirley yanks open her closet door. She flips through multiple shoe boxes. Black heels. Tennis shoes. Empty.

“Come on, come on!” she shouts. “Where is it?!”

Shirley slides across the carpet and looks under the bed. She pulls out another box. Empty. One last box sits deep in the back corner. She struggles to grasp it but manages to reach it. Cobwebs, dust, and a spider slide out with the box. Inside sits a pair of vintage red stilettos and an empty gun case. Shirley looks back at her dresser and makes eye contact with another portrait. She freezes and tears slowly fills her eyes. She stands and approaches the portrait. It is a picture of her husband. A jar of cremated ashes and two wedding rings sit neatly beside it. Shirley kisses her hand and lightly touches the jar.

“I’m sorry, but you’re the one who taught me the importance of keeping a promise,” Shirley cries.

Shirley rotates and walks to the closet. She scans the surplus of dresses and contemplates.

After some time, Shirley exits the room wearing an oversized jacket. A classy purse is thrown over her shoulder and the heels are clasped in her hand. She approaches Astro’s closed room door. She can hear him muffled mumbles. Shirley presses her ear against the door.

“Protect Mama, Lord,” he prays. “Please make a way.”

Shirley forces a slight smile and knocks.

“Hun, I’m off to work,” she shouts. “Don’t forget that leftovers are still in the fridge if you get hungry.”

“Okay Mama, love you,” Astro replies.

“Love you, too,” Shirley says with a crack in her voice.

She enters the living room, grabs her phone, and briskly exits the apartment.

Shirley sits in her car in the driveway. The floating frustration could be cut with a knife. She dials a number. It rings long before someone finally picks up on the other end.

“I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but I really need your help again,” Shirley pleads. “King Street. 20 minutes. It’s urgent.”

Shirley hangs up and punches the steering wheel. She puts the car in gear and floors it.

Moments later, Shirley leans beside her car in a dark alleyway and straps on her heels. Her phone rings and she answers.

“Showtime?” a voice asks.

“Just like old times,” she responds with a smirk.

Shirley hangs up and tosses the phone in her purse. She removes the jacket and tosses it into the car. A sexy black and red dress grips her body perfectly. She admires herself in the mirror but a distant hiss breaks her self-love session. She looks around – nothing. Then she looks up at the streetlight across from her. A massive but beautiful barn owl surveys her from atop as if appreciating her outfit. They examine each other for a while. Seconds later, a car honks loudly and it flies away, vanishing into the night skies. Shirley looks back at a car parked behind hers, then walks toward the lit sidewalk.

Shirley struts down the street like it is her personal runway. She looks confident and relaxed. She passes a man in a hoodie facing the street, then passes a prostitute. A sports car pulls up along the curb and honks.

“How much, baby?” he asks.

The prostitute walks to his car with a seductive smile and leans into the window. Shirley continues down the street. Thirsty men cat call at her from every direction, but she ignores them. Seconds later, she stops on the sidewalk and searches for potential clients. Out of nowhere, she looks back and sees the hooded man just a few feet away from her. He looks away quickly, just before she could see his face. Shirley speed walks up the road to create distance between them, but the man follows her with his head down.

Up the street, a man leans on his antique car. Shirley hurries toward him.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm. Girl all I want for Christmas is yo—” Shirley interrupts him before he could finish lusting.

“Pretend to be my boyfriend, please,” she whispers. “This creep is following me. Please.”

The man immediately puts his arm around Shirley. The hooded man turns around and heads back up the street. She lets out a sigh of relief.

“So, how much?” the man asks with an evil grin.

Shirley catches a bit of an attitude.

“Boy you can’t afford m—”

The man pulls a stack of cash from his pocket and shocks her. Shirley immediately walks around to the passenger side and hops in the car. The man hops in, too.

“Go somewhere secluded,” Shirley demands.

The man drives up the street a bit. He passes the hooded man who stands near the alleyway again.

“Left,” Shirley says as she points.

The man turns and drives slowly down the alleyway. In a flash, the hooded man pulls a ski mask from his pocket and pulls it over his face. He creeps down the alleyway along the wall and follows the brake lights. He pulls out a gun as he closes the gap between him and the car. The man drives past Shirley's car, then the other one. She points to the next spot. He pulls in, parks, and kills the engine. The car locks click and unlock.

The man rapidly advances on Shirley and kisses her neck. He grabs her hand and places it on his lap near his private part, oblivious that foreplay was coming to a violent end. All of a sudden, the masked man yanks the door open and hops behind the driver’s seat. He points his gold and black Beretta M9 to the back of the man’s skull. His hands shoots up to the roof and he and Shirley both screams. Out of nowhere, he looks down and sees Shirley’s hand stuffed in his pocket. She pulls out the stack of cash.

“Son of a bi—” Shirley cuts his profanity short.

“Shut your trap,” she shouts at him. “I made a pinky promise, alright?”

Shirley counts the money and passes some to the masked man behind. She counts some more and feeds it to her purse.

“Just enough to make rent and an unforgettable Christmas,” she says with a mischievous smile.

Shirley jams the remaining cash back into the man’s pocket.

“Ever played Grand Theft Auto Five?” she asks him.

The hyperventilating man nods.

“You forget a thousand things every day, make sure this is one of ‘em,” she states. “Once we’re out, drive off.”

Shirley and the masked man both exit the car and slams the doors. The man starts his car and speeds off. They laugh uncontrollably for a moment.

“Thanks for coming, really,” Shirley says.

The man removes his mask and hoodie. It is the same man from the family portrait. He shakes his dreadlocks in the cool night breeze then leans in for a hug.

“Of course,” he says with a smile. “How’s my nephew? He still mad at me?”

“He really misses you, Hank,” Shirley sighs. “He asked about you again.”

Hank lowers his head and shoulders in disappointment.

“I made a mistake. I’m sorry,” he says. “Buttt, tomorrow I’ll be one year sober, plus I got to see my baby sis for the holiday. It’s a win-win.”

Shirley holds Hank’s hand to provide brief comfort.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she replies. “You still came through for me even when I didn’t come through for you.”

Police sirens scream from up the street. Their eyes widen simultaneously.

“That’s my cue,” she states. “I have to stop to the mall before it closes. It was good seeing you. I guess I’ll see you lat—”

“Tomorrow,” Hank cuts in.

He holds out his pinky finger. Shirley's lip quivers as she tries to refrain her tears, but to no avail. They both begin to sob and slowly lock fingers. Shirley turns and walks to her car.

“You forgot it… again,” Hank shouts as he wipes his eyes with his forearm.

Shirley turns around. He is holding the gun out to her.

“Your husband would have tripped if he knew you let this leave the box for a year,” he says.

Shirley smiles and grabs the gun and drops it into her purse. She hops in her car, and he hops in the car parked behind hers. They both floor it and leave in opposite directions, and a police car zooms past Shirley and drifts into the alleyway.

A new, shiny snow globe sits atop the computer desk. The interior is filled with lights and a miniature Christmas tree stands in the corner of the living room. An enormous box lays beside the tree. Shirley kneels on the couch in Christmas pajamas.

“Thank you for blessing us, Father,” she prays.

Astro walks into the living room. Surprise and disbelief fills his face.

“Merry Christmas, Mama!” he screams.

Shirley looks over at her joyous son.

“Merry Christmas, honey!” she shouts.

Astro stares at the box and is paralyzed with excitement.

“Open it, son,” she says.

Astro darts to the box and rips the wrapping paper. The BMX logo shows. His mouth drops open. He bolts at Shirley and jumps into her arms. His hand inadvertently smacks her purse off the couch and onto the floor. The gun falls out. Shirley quickly kicks it under the couch just before Astro looks down to locate the noise.

“Thank you, mama, thank you!” he yells.

Shirley holds him tightly and kisses his forehead.

“No problem, son,” she responds. “Just remember that when you make a promise, it’s very important to keep it, okay?”

“I love you, mama,” he says.

“I love you to—”

A loud knock on the door cuts Shirley’s reply. She releases Astro and walks over to the door. He runs over to his present and continues to unwrap it. Shirley opens the door, and a huge smile grows on her face. Hank steps inside holding two presents.

“Merry Christmas!” he yells.

Astro looks up and utter shock consumes him. He drops the gift wrapping and dashes toward Hank. Hank kneels down to his height.

“No way! A BMX, and uncle Hank?” he says. “This is the best Christmas ever!”

He springs into Hank’s arms and they embrace.