Breathing (15 page)

“Maybe we could get you something special to wear before you go,” she says.

“Mama, I’m going to the movies. With Stef and Joie. Why would I need something special to wear? Shorts and a T-shirt and flip-flops will do me just fine.” Sheesh. What is her deal lately?

“Ain’t nothing wrong with looking your best. You never know . . .”

“You never know
what
?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Saying what exactly?” I ask, starting to feel like this plan might just suck something fierce. “Do you know something I don’t?”

She shrugs—not a good sign.

“Spill it.” Now she’s trying to act all busy in the kitchen, when we both know perfectly well there ain’t a thing in there needs doing. “Fine, then,” I say, sitting down on the couch, “I ain’t going.”

That sure gets her attention. “Oh, yes you are, if I got to tote you there myself. You are going. You are not going to set around here moping one more night, not one more. Do you hear me?”

“Then you tell me what all this is about. Why are you suddenly so concerned about what I’m wearing? If y’all are planning something I can’t know about, then I don’t want no part of it.” Besides, I’m thinking, Jackson could call while I’m out, and who knows if I’d be able to reach him back.

Mama sighs and parks her butt beside mine. “Looky here, darlin’. It ain’t like it’s some big conspiracy. I reckon Joie was sick to death of hearing y’all going on and on about Jackson and Jimmy all the time, so she came up with the idea to get together with some local boys, you know, so y’all can all have fun together, like you used to.”

“I know Joie is real desperate to find a boyfriend, but that don’t mean I’m gonn’ go out on a blind date just for that.”

“It ain’t a blind date,” Mama lies, ’cause now it’s all clear as day.

“Her mama said—”

“How could she not at least tell me what she had planned? You have to admit that is just pitiful rude. I have got no intention of cheating on Jackson.”

“Vannah, please. You can’t cheat on someone you’re not even with.”

Now that was just mean.

“I’m going to bed and I do not want to be disturbed!” I slam the door but good.

Picking up my hairbrush off my dresser, I hold it a moment, then fling it as hard as I can. It whistles its way across the room and lands with a satisfying
thwack
against the wall, leaving a nice black mark on the white paint. Damn, that felt good. I go retrieve it, hold it a minute, then send it sailing back the other way.
Thwack!
Another fine dark bruise on the wall, taking the red hot anger out of my veins. A couple more throws and I’m feeling much better.

Dog comes in acting all surprised by my behavior. “Damn, who licked the red off your candy?”

“Piss off,” I growl.

I grab a sweatshirt and march straight through the living room to the front door. “I’m going out,” is all I say, knowing it’s going to kill Mama all night wondering if I met up with them kids or not. As if!

I ride my bike straight to the 7-Eleven to use the pay phone. I’ve got to find out if Stef knew about tonight’s secret agenda. She about keels over when I tell her what Joie had planned.

“She was trying to get us to cheat on our boyfriends so she could get one?” Stef yells. “Of all the low-down, two-faced, scheming . . .”

Suddenly I feel like we’re a team and it doesn’t even matter if Jimmy’s just a dumb little kid. It dawns on me that it’s possible Stef is the only person that may have some notion of what I’m feeling.

“Hell. Meet me at the theater. We’ll go see a different movie, just the two of us,” Stef suggests.

“What about Joie? We can’t just ditch her with all them guys.” I am pissed, but that’s downright cold.

“I got to think on that one,” she says. “I’ll take care of Joie. Just meet me at the movies.”

 

 

I wait for Stef, hoping we don’t run into Joie. That would just be too much, having to stand her up to her face. Maybe we should have gone somewhere else. It must be hard for Joie, her two best friends being in relationships, even if the guys don’t live here, I think, as I watch all the couples heading into the theater. It seems like near about everybody is half of a pair these days. Everywhere I go it’s just couples, couples, couples. Most of them are making out right there in public. They could at least wait until they get inside and the lights dim.

Stef comes marching up, looking agitated. “I done told her we was both canceling out. She was madder than a wet hen in a tote sack, too.”

“Bless her heart, but she done brung it on herself,” I say. “If she’d at least told us what she was planning, maybe we could have worked something out. But that right there was just deceitful.”

“Let’s go watch us a movie and forget about these durn people trying to run our lives,” Stef says.

And for the first time all summer, she is finally making some sense.

W
e’re shelling peas for supper when Mama says, “Hon, I know you’re all mad about Joie’s plan the other day, but it just ain’t right for you to put all your eggs in one basket.”

I do not want to get into this with her right now. “I’ma have to make that choice for myself,” I say, hoping she gets the point.

“I’m just saying, you can’t exactly expect a grown man to wait on a young’un like yourself when y’all live at such a great distance. I’m sure Jackson’s got other girls interested in him over there in Greenville.”

Anger, like a tornado, tears right through my chest. “Why are you saying this to me?” I cry, throwing the peas down on the kitchen table. “Jackson ain’t like that.”

“You may not think so, shug, but men just are not to be relied upon. Look what happened with your daddy; he walked away from his family and never looked back. Trust me, I understand these things better’n you think.”

“You
don’t
understand! You think you do, but you don’t. Jackson ain’t nothing like Daddy, so don’t even try to compare ’em!”

“Men are all the same, darlin’. They are always gonn’ let you down.”

“That may be true for you. But it ain’t gonn’ be for me.”

Mama laughs. She actually laughs like I’m some dumb kid that just doesn’t get it, and damn but that burns me up. And suddenly her face looks so hateful, I can’t hold back.

“Maybe you have rotten taste in men,” I say, and I know I am pissing her off on purpose.

“You best watch your mouth, there,” she says. And I can see she’s steaming.

“You done spent the last twelve years pining over him and he didn’t deserve but one minute of it. He was a no-count, good-for-nothing . . .” My words stop as I feel the sting of her hand across my face. Mama looks about as stunned as I am.

All these years she ain’t never laid a hand on neither one of us, and now she goes and does it—over him?

“Yeah,” I say, biting back my tears. “That’s just what I saw the day he left.”

An image has just crashed its way into my head that I’ve been trying to blot out as long as I can remember. It takes up all the space in my brain and spills right out my mouth. “Y’all thought I was napping like Dog, but I wadn’t. I heard the loud voices.” And now it’s as fresh in my mind as the slap stinging on my cheek. “I crept down the hall and peeked in through the keyhole. Y’all were arguing, which wadn’t anything new. I saw you trying to unpack the suitcase he was packing. You picked up a blue shirt, turned to put it back in the closet. You were yelling about how the young’uns needed him, and he wouldn’t take it no more. I seen that click in his eyes, that moment when he’d just had it and he hauled off and hit you but good.”

Mama gasps as if she’s been struck, grasping her face. “You couldn’t possibly remember that,” she whispers. “You weren’t but three years old.”

“Some things leave their mark,” I say. “I couldn’t believe he’d done that. Not my daddy. I drew in my breath, and you turned as if you’d heard me. And I saw his big ol’ nasty fist print on your face. And I started hollering, just hollering my dang head off. I don’t even know why or what I thought it would do.” I am positively bawling at this point. But the floodgates are open and there ain’t no stopping now. “He came stomping out the room, and I thought he was gonn’ hit me, too. And I kept right on screaming. And he ran out without even looking my way.” I stop to catch my breath, remembering how Mama picked me up then to quiet my tears.

“Stop,” Mama whimpers, “just quit.”

“Jackson ain’t one bit like him.” Though for the tiniest of moments the image of Jackson punching his cousin in the face pops into my mind. I remind myself that was to defend me and send that old image on its way. I turn and stomp out the front door just exactly like my daddy did all them years ago.

I ride my bike hard and fast, tearing down the street like a cat from a coyote, hoping to God I know what I’m talking about. Of course I do. Jackson
is
different. I just know he is. Please, dear Lord, don’t let me be wrong on this one. I ride until I find myself out past that construction site, past that trailer. My sign is gone, but them rocks are still down there in the sand. I set down my bike and climb on up, panting like a dog. I’ve just got to catch my breath, that’s all. I’m shaking from head to toe, can’t even believe the things that just came out of my mouth. What is wrong with me lately? Treating my friends like crap, hurting Mama like that, this just ain’t like me at all. And now I went and wore out my lungs. And fool that I am, I ain’t got my inhaler. I left the house in such a tizzy, I didn’t stop to think. I’ve just got to calm down is all, ’cause this here situation is bad. My chest is all closed up. I’m wheezing like crazy, miles from home, nobody likely to go looking for me anytime soon and certainly not way out here. Good Lord, Savannah, you’ve gone and done it now.

I slither down the rocks to my bike, pick it up and wheel it back out to the street. I ain’t got a choice. I’m going to have to ride myself over to Mercy. I’ll just have to go real slow is all. But things are looking kind of wavery. I’m seeing some sort of black spots in the air. Suddenly, one of my strange feelings comes over me. It don’t make much sense given how bad off I am at the moment. ’Cause what comes is the notion of good times on the way, a sense of excitement and adventure.

“You all right there?” a voice calls.

I try to focus on the figure in the distance. It all seems like shadows, but then I see that guy with the caterpillar mustache standing out on the steps of the trailer, the one who threatened to call the cops on me when Jackson couldn’t take that painting gig. He’s leaning on the railing out front, a cigar blowing smoke in his face.

“I remember you,” he says, pointing at me, and he sounds none too happy.

I give up the goat, quit fighting to plow forward through what feels like molasses, and let myself drop to the ground. Only somehow, I manage to whack my head on a lamppost on the way, and next thing I know, I’m slipping into darkness.

T
here’s a sweetness in the air—a fresh sort of springy crispness. Not a lick of humidity. The grass is as soft and green as the day it first came up out of the ground. There’s little colorful flowers everywhere and the trees look practically like they sprung up out of a storybook—just perfect for a tire swing or a tree house. Jackson’s standing right under one of them, a big ol’ grin on his face. And as I look around, I realize we’re back at the church picnic. Everybody looks sort of different, though, and Mama’s nowhere to be seen.

I simply glide on over to Jackson. He takes me into his arms like I’ve been dreaming about for so long. And Stef ’s there and she can plainly see that this is way bigger than her little ol’ crush on Jimmy.

The cool air breezes across my face. My chest feels clear as day. I’m breathing so good, my lungs feel ten times their usual size. Jackson’s smiling down at me, and his face is moving ever so slow toward mine. But then we hear a siren positively blaring like it’s right on top of us. I wish it would shut on up so we can get back to what we were about to do. But then there’s a dag light glaring in my eyes, giving me a headache, it’s so bright.

“Come on, little lady, hang in there,” says a vaguely familiar voice.

I wish it would go away so I could get back to where I was at. But I take a peek, and that grouchy guy with the mustache from the construction site by the HOUSEPAINTERS NEEDED sign is looking down at me, and beside him is some other fella in a white uniform, and come to find out we’re bouncing around in the back of an ambulance!

My head is blaring with pain. I try to ask them what on God’s green earth is going on, but they can’t hardly hear me through the oxygen mask.

“I still had your number on file from that bogus application you put in,” Caterpillar Mustache says. “Your mama’s on her way. She’ll meet us at the hospital and your bike’s safe inside my trailer. You’re lucky I come out for a smoke when I did, I tell you what.”

Well doesn’t he have all the answers? Now if he could quit his yammering so’s I could find my way back to wherever I was at, I sure would be grateful. Ah hell, I just realized, it was all some kind of dream. I wasn’t with Jackson at all. It seemed so real. Now that’s about the saddest news I done ever heard.

 

 

This hospitalization ain’t at all like the last one. For one thing, Mercy is old and run-down, and the head honcho doctor is that mean old baldy guy who insists on blaming me for having this dang asthma. For another, Mama seems to have changed sides of the court, jumping on the bandwagon of blaming me for riding off in a huff and not bringing my inhaler. And to top it all off, Jackson’s too busy working to trouble himself with coming down to check up on me.

In the two days I’ve been in this Godforsaken hole, I’ve had exactly three visitors. Dog was bored silly, saying, “How do you stand it in here?” as if I had a choice. Meanwhile, he gets to go stay over with his best friend. Gina came with him, but she doesn’t really count since she was here to see Mama. Dave waited down in the lobby the whole time. He doesn’t like hospitals. Then there was Stef, who would not shut up about Jimmy the Great, because, Lord save us all, he is coming out here next weekend with his Bible group. And finally, Mr. Caterpillar Mustache! Now why in the world would he want to come visit? Says he feels responsible since he helped rescue me. I told him I don’t need another daddy thank you very much. Mama went and scolded me for being rude. And now, grosser than gross, he is getting all flirtatious with her. Can we please remember this is a hospital, as in with sick people in it? Lord, sometimes folks just ain’t got no respect. Besides, she needs to be worrying about how to keep her job at Harris Teeter, not turning on the charm for some
old
guy.