1977

The baby needed milk. And the only one who could help was Janice's great aunt, Maria. She was the only one getting an SSI check. So ironically the whole family was as nice as a best friend to her now.

But this was an emergency. Janice didn't like to take advantage of people. She'd never play up[ to Aunt Maria. But what other way was there? She saw none.

She called her mother. Ring-ring. No answer. Had she gone to work? Did she work on Thursdays? Janice could never keep her part time schedule at that restaurant straight. Her mother would have been like a general, glad to tell her whether or not to ask Aunt Maria.

Maria, with no children, was as painfully shy as a little girl in front of a lion. She'd never been married. But she lived right near plenty of family, nieces and nephews, grand nieces, brothers and a sister. They were all on Albany St. in Chicago. It was a nice street especially when the sun was shining.

Janice knew now she'd made a mistake. In fact she'd made many mistakes. In high school she didn't study. What was the name of that one teacher who kept pushing her to study? She wouldn't let go. And Janice never wanted to. That was Ms. Longstrom. Wasn't it? Now Janice saw it as differently as if she'd passed over into another dimension. If she'd studied she could have worked like Marcos, the nerd, who studied. He was working at the drug store at the cash register. And he'd been there a long time. Now she admired that. But Janice couldn't even make change. She was even afraid to look for a job.

She'd seen "West Side Story." And she'd seen kids reliving it not too far from her neighborhood- a couple blocks away. She'd thought it was such a beautiful movie. But now with her baby suffering she saw the reality was not nearly so beautiful. It was true she'd been as attracted to Papo as a magnet to metal. And he was Puerto Rican all the way. He even had the accent. But talk about irresponsible? Like a baby he never came around except for fun. A couple of blocks away, in fact in the whole area, there were gang fights. Young beautiful boys were getting shot all the time. Their young beautiful girl friends were home in apartments with soft carpets and velvet covered chairs caring for their babies. The Kings' headquarters two blocks away looked like a bombed out building after World War II. The real West Side Story was sad as the mothers who lost their sons.

Her mother's part time job wasn't enough, of course. Janice felt like crying. Why didn't anyone explain that to her when she was in school? She felt miserable. And the baby was beginning to whimper. Pretty soon she'd be crying. The food stamps just weren't enough for a whole month of food.

She could call her caseworker, Ms. Roman. But Janice didn't want to overdo it. Last month she'd called and gotten an emergency voucher. And Ms. Roman, who was as nice as a saint, said she was going to put her on the W.I.C. Program. What happened to the W.I.C. program? She could call and ask.

"Hello"?

"Is this Ms. Roman"?

"No. She's in the field. Please call back tomorrow."

Now Janice could get a plan together. She'd ask Maria just for a loan. And she'd pay it back when she got her next check. And it would come out all right because she'd get milk as free as a vacation island from the W.I.C. Program.

Janice left her house smiling as she started walking to Maria's apartment.