Breathing (13 page)

“What?” I ask, trying to sound innocent. She keeps her stance. “I just got him a job is all, painting houses, like he wanted. Is that so awful?”

“And, why, may I ask, ain’t he down here doing that for himself?” she asks, tapping her toes.

I shrug. “’Cause his mama’s always holding him up. I don’t understand why she can’t get on without him. She’s the one that sent him off in the first place.”

Mama looks shocked and disappointed. “I am surprised at you! Not having a lick of respect for people who have lost someone dear to them! I’d of expected more, young lady. I suggest you forget about this boondoggle of yours and get back to the business of living your own life.” Then she shakes her head and goes off to her room.

It ain’t that I don’t feel bad for Jackson’s mama. I just don’t think she should use it as cause to ruin her son’s plans. He’s got to move on and find his own way, not try to replace his daddy.

Am I being selfish? Of course I am, who among us ain’t? That doesn’t change the fact that my aim is to set Jackson on his own path, the one he was meant for. After all, a vision that comes to you when you’re half dead has got to mean something important, don’t it?

 

 

I keep calling his house, but ain’t nobody answering. Something must be wrong with their machine. Where could they be at? Finally I go to work, but I can’t seem to concentrate. Miss Patsy quickly gets fed up with my air-headedness and starts following me around to make sure I shelve the books correctly. This snaps me out of my zoned-out behavior, as I cannot stand for her to be looking over my shoulder like that. When I finish, I head straight back home. Jackson must be in by now.

No such luck. I intersperse my phone calls with working on my SAT book to keep myself distracted. The longer I call, the more worried I get. I hope he’s all right. As the day darkens to night, I lay up in the bed, listening to music, dialing and redialing his number. I go and make sandwiches for me and Dog for supper, leaving his next to him while he watches the TV. I eat mine in our room.

Mama’s tired when she gets back from working at the Teeter. I get a tub of hot water for her feet, which I try to do whenever she’s looking particularly weary. It helps take the edge off her mood. She soaks them awhile, then slips off to her bedroom. Dog and I watch TV. Then he goes to bed, too. I keep redialing. Finally, near about midnight, Jackson answers. I’m so glad to hear his voice after all them hours of redialing, I don’t even pay attention to the dark tone in it.

I mute the TV and blurt out, “Hey, Jackson! It’s me.”

He sighs. “What you doing calling so late?”

“I been trying to get you all day. Where y’all been at?” I don’t care if it’s nosy. At this point, I believe I’ve got a right to know.

“We went up to Greensboro to visit my grandma. She been real sick.”

“I’m sorry.” I never know what to say when people talk about someone being sick or dying. I mean what can you say? Sorry? It ain’t like I made her sick. Changing the subject sometimes helps. “Why’d y’all come home so late?”

“Mama didn’t want to leave, but me and her have to work in the morning, and Carter’s got summer school. Why you calling at this hour, anyhow?” He sounds impatient.

He’s probably tired is all. Maybe I should hold up and talk to him about all this tomorrow.

“I’ll let you go. I just wanted to be sure you were all right.”

“That why you called at midnight?” He doesn’t sound convinced.

“There was something else, too. But it’ll keep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“You got me now, may as well go on and say it.”

I know I ought to hush my mouth and stay my tongue. But I can’t seem to help myself. I spill the beans. “ ’Member I told you about that sign? About how I found it and all?”

“Savannah, I told you I cain’t do nothing about that right now.”

“I know,” I say. I’m in too deep to back out now. “That’s why I took care of it for you. I got you that job painting houses, Jackson, just like you wanted. Alls you got to do is be down here by Friday. That’ll give you a couple of days to explain it all to your mama and drive back out here. And then it’ll be perfect.” He doesn’t say a word. “Ain’t that something?”

After an awful long silence, he says, “It’s not like I don’t want to, honest. It just ain’t gonn’ work right now. Maybe a few months down the road . . .”

A few months! “But the job’s here now! It’s the one from the sign I saw when I was nearing God, Jackson. You got to come!” Why does he not understand how important this is?

“Look, baby, there ain’t nothing I want more’n being back there with you. It’s just . . . everyone needs a piece of me lately. I cain’t be there for everybody.”

“Not even yourself?” I croak.

“’Specially not that,” he says. “Get some sleep, girl. I’ll call you tomorra.”

I hang up and close my eyes. I can’t hardly believe it. After all that. I click off the TV. Darkness swallows me up.

I grab Mama’s raggedy old cotton throw off the back of the couch and set it over me, then lay back against the cushions. I ain’t giving up that easy. I’ve just got to convince him somehow.

I try to focus on the place where my special feelings come from, to see if I can’t figure out where this all’s going to lead. Except as I well know, when I try to aim for one of them feelings, they don’t never show. It’s like I’ve got to trick them into coming by pretending I don’t care none.

Maybe if I were to call his mama and explain it all to her, she’d understand. I could even tell her about the pictures he painted down in his cousins’ basement. Then she’d see.

I don’t reckon Jackson would appreciate me being that much of a busybody. But it’d be for his own good—okay, yes, mine, too, but still.

Yawning, I decide to sleep here on the couch tonight. Least I won’t have to listen to Dog’s snoring.

As I’m drifting off to sleep, you know that place before you fully drop off, where you’re always dreaming about falling off the curb or off a ledge or what have you, well, it’s there that an image comes to me—my daddy stomping off out the door, just exactly how he looked the day he left us. He never turned back that day. But now he does. He looks right at me. His face is all angry and hateful, and then it shifts and reforms itself and it’s Jackson’s face looking back at me, as he turns and slams the door behind him.

M
ama wakes me up on the couch early the next morning. “What are you doing out here?” she snaps.

I turn over, facing away from her. “Dog was snoring,” I say, figuring that’s easier than explaining the whole story.

“Go on and sleep in my room, then.”

I’m too tired to move.

“You get ahold of Jackson last night?”

“Ungh,” I grunt.

“Well?” she says, wanting to hear how it went, as she rushes about getting ready for work.

I pull the blanket over my head.

“That bad, huh?”

I don’t dignify her question with an answer.

“Look, baby, I know you got a bee in your bonnet about getting him to move back here, but I think you just gonn’ have to accept that he ain’t ready to do that right now. May as well go on and learn this one.” She sits down beside me and pulls the throw off my head. “When you love somebody, you got to set ’em free. If they love you, they’ll come back.”

“Daddy didn’t come back,” I whisper.

“No, he didn’t,” she says real quiet. “And maybe that was for the best.”

I can’t hide my surprise at hearing her say that. “For the best? Then why are you always moping about him being gone?”

She sighs real heavy. “Don’t go thinking you understand my life. Sometimes things just don’t turn out the way you expect. I get down about stuff is all. Sure, I miss the man I loved from time to time, but it ain’t just him I’m hurting over. I’m always struggling to stay afloat, what with bills and parenting on my own. But that’s none of your concern. Now, promise me you gonn’ forget about that painting job and do something fun today. Call up Stef or Joie and have a little get-together, whatever you need to do. Dog’s getting picked up by Gina, so you got the whole day to yourself.” With that, she taps me on the behind, grabs her keys, and blows out the door.

I decide to take Mama’s advice and call Stef. She’s all weird ’cause I’ve been grumpy with her ever since that day she got back from camp and couldn’t shut up about Jimmy. I don’t get how she can’t understand that I’ve had a lot going on. But she agrees to come over and to call Joie as well.

After cleaning up a little, I sit down at the table with my SAT book to wait for them.

I try to be polite as the girls shoot the shit about what all they’ve been up to this summer. Here they are my very best friends, and I can’t help but feel bored. I used to love having them over to talk. But now, it just seems like a chore. Me and Stef are sitting on my bed, and Joie is over on Dog’s. Stef keeps pulling on one clump of her straight blond hair while she goes on and on about Jimmy. Joie ain’t even had a boyfriend yet. I reckon she’s feeling left out, ’cause she’s bouncing her skinny butt around on Dog’s bed, going on about her cute boy cousin she saw on her family trip to Florida! Ew! Good Lord, they’re
related
. What is wrong with that girl?

I try my best to join in. “One day me and Jackson were down at the beach kissing, and Mr. Howard came up and started hinting he might go tell Mama.”

“No!” Stef laughs. “Did he tell her?”

“I don’t believe so. Mama never did say anything about it.”

“Y’all think after I have braces guys’ll like me more?” Joie asks.

I can’t help but feel sorry for her with them buck teeth. I don’t hardly notice them all that much anymore, but I reckon the guys do. Her dad keeps promising to save up for an orthodontist, but it hasn’t happened as of yet.

“Come on, now,” I say. “You’re beautiful just like you are.” It’s true in the sense that she’d be pretty if it weren’t for her teeth.

“Right,” she huffs.

I elbow Stef.

“You know you’ve got the best hair of any of us,” she says.

Joie fluffs up her curls, nearly smiling.

“I guarantee you’ll have a boyfriend ’fore the summer is out,” I say, though I don’t necessarily believe it.

“You think so?” she asks.

“I’m sure of it.”

“Hell yeah,” Stef agrees.

“Thanks, y’all. Go on then, tell us about Jackson.”

“He’s just so sweet. He came all the way to the hospital in Wilmington when I got sick and stayed right by my side every minute.”

“That’s just like Jimmy,” Stef interrupts. “This one time I had to go to the infirmary with a stomachache, and he came to visit me.”

Oh, sure, that’s exactly the same thing as driving to Wilmington at five a.m. I bite my tongue and try to be nice.

“How long were y’all together?” I ask.

“I liked him since the first week. And you know me, I wasn’t shy about it. But we didn’t actually get together until the last three days,” Stef says.

Three days! She’s been making it sound like they spent every minute together all summer.

“Why did it take so long?” I ask her.

“He kind of had this other girlfriend at first. But I just showed him how I’m way more fun, then he dropped her like a burnt biscuit.” She laughs out loud.

“Girl, you are crazy,” Joie says, giggling, too.

Stef is just a burr in my side today, trying to compare her little dinky crush to my full-on relationship with a practically grown man, as if they were the same thing. It’s ridiculous. She shows us the picture of Jimmy she’s got in her wallet, and he’s just a shrimpy little kid. Maybe inviting them over wasn’t such a bright idea.

“I’m hot. Let’s go to the beach,” I suggest. They agree, and we go out on our bikes. Then, halfway there, I say, “You know, I ain’t feeling so good. I believe the humidity and all the pollen must be messing with my asthma.”

“You okay?” Joie asks, looking worried.

“I’ll be fine. I probably just need to lay down awhile.”

Stef ’s giving me a funny look, though. I ain’t at all sure she’s buying it. But I turn back home anyhow. I feel downright awful, tricking them like that. What has gotten into me? They’re probably good and pissed, but least now I can be alone. Besides, Jackson said he’d call today, and I don’t want to miss that.

 

 

When Mama gets home from work, she finds me laid out on the couch flipping channels, two empty bags of microwave buttered popcorn on the floor along with a two-liter bottle of Diet Coke and my forgotten SAT book.

“Good Lord, Savannah! You been laying on that couch all day?”

“Uh-uh. Stef and Joie came over earlier. We even went out.”

“Where’d y’all go?” she asks, her hands on her hips like she doesn’t believe me. Damn.

“Well . . . we were heading to the beach, but I wasn’t feeling good, so I came back home.”

“You weren’t feeling well? What’s wrong? Have you been taking your medicine? Savannah, turn off that television and answer me.”

“Yes, I’ve been taking it every day.” I click off the TV. “It wasn’t asthma. I just didn’t feel good.”

“As in you were about to throw up or as in you wanted to come home and wait around for Jackson to call?”

I look up like I’m thinking real hard. “It’d have to be that last one you said, I reckon.”

She takes a big, deep breath. “Looky here. I know I haven’t exactly set the best example for you. But you gonn’ have to pull yourself up and get over this. It ain’t like y’all were married. You’ve only been together a few weeks. This is not the end of the world. It’s just the end of one of what will be many crushes you’re gonn’ have.”

She done hit a raw nerve now. I jump up off the couch. “It ain’t a crush! Don’t you call it that! We may not have spent our whole lives together, but what we got is real. Jackson loves me and it is
not
over, so quit saying that. You’re just lonely and pathetic and you want me to be the same, but I’m not, so just leave me alone!” I run to my room and slam the door as hard as I can. I’m shaking from head to toe. Damn, that was mean. I didn’t intend to be so ugly.