Breathing (17 page)

Jackson’s coming to visit! That just has to be it! Lord, I could use a little good news right now. He must want to make it up to me.

“Denny’s offered me a job.” She’s smiling like she’s all proud or something.

“Denny’s?” I ask.
That’s
the good news? “You hate waitressing, Mama. Don’t settle for that.”

But she starts in to laughing. “Not the restaurant!
Denny!
You know, the man that saved your life?” She looks all shocked that I don’t know what she’s talking about.

“Mr. Caterpillar Mustache?” I say.

“What? Lord, Savannah,
Denny Johnson
, from the paintin’ job.”

None of this is making any sense. Mama is going to take the job from the yellow sign that was meant for Jackson? “You gonn’ paint houses?”

I don’t like that she keeps laughing about everything. Excuse me for being a little confused. I have spent the entire day puking my guts out after being poisoned by the hospital, in case you forgot.

“He offered me a job in the office, you know, filing, typing, secretarial work.”

“You ain’t qualified for that.” I know this, because that’s what she’s been told every durn time she ever applied for a secretarial position.

Now she looks all huffy, like I insulted her. “He said he’d teach me what I need to know.”

“I bet he will,” I murmur.

“Now, just what do you mean by that?” she barks.

I’d like to retort, but I ain’t got it in me.

“Never mind,” she says. “Just think about it, Van, a job where the boss already knows about your asthma. He done promised he wadn’t offering out of pity, that he’d excuse my absences when necessary, long as I make up my hours.”

Make up the hours, huh? I’m sorry, but my mind is in the gutter on that one.

“Please, baby, be happy for me on this.” Her voice sounds pathetic.

“We’ll even get full health benefits.”

“Oh, Mama,” I say softly, knowing just how much that means.

“That sure is great.”

Before I drift off to sleep, I say a silent prayer. “Thank you, Lord, for blessing Mama with a new job with medical coverage, and please, Lord, don’t let her marry Denny Caterpillar. Thank you, amen.”

W
hen we come home from the longest four-day stay in the hospital I’ve ever had, my bike is waiting for me on the front steps. I reckon Denny Caterpillar brought it by from the construction site. I ain’t at all sure how he knows where we stay at, but I’m glad not to have to go fetch it and all. Meanwhile, Mama hasn’t said word one about the fight we had before I ran off. Neither has she apologized for slapping me. We sort of stepped right around it and moved on.

No sooner do we get into the house than Stef ’s on the phone. Before I can even say hello, she’s off on a rant about Jimmy the Great. I take the phone to my room and lay down on the bed.

“His Bible group is coming to town tomorra! The preacher is choosing out which visitor stays with which of our church families, and—”

“
Our
church? Since when do you go to church?” I ask, never having known her to attend one.

“Shut up! I been going down every Sundy.”

“Since when?”

“Since a couple weeks ago.”

“Since you found out his Bible group is coming to town more like.”

“So?”

“So the preacher’s choosing the families,” I say, leading her back to her point.

“I’m just flat out worried he won’t place Jimmy with us ’cause I seemed too interested. What’ll I do then?”

“You’ll just make yourself a friend of whosever house he’s at,” I say. Duh!

“Vannah, what if y’all sign up,” she says, sounding all excited.

“Pardon me?” I ain’t ready for some Bible thumper staying over and judging us.

“
Please
. Hardly nobody with kids our age signed up to host. If y’all do it, I’m positive you’d get him.”

Oh joy. Just what I need, a weekend of recuperating with Jimmy the Great staying at our house and Stef hanging all over him. Between the inhaler treatments I’ve got to do, oral steroids making me irritable, and feeling worn out, I just want to be left alone. I’ve got to stall for time. “I’ma have to check with Mama. She’s pretty tired from being at the hospital with me all week and she’s starting a new job and . . .” I’m fixing to tell her about the gross flirting going on with Denny Caterpillar, but that ain’t ready for public consumption just yet. I’m sort of embarrassed about Mama going after him. She’s so pretty and he’s so, well . . . old. He looks like he’s nearing fifty!

“Please, Vannah, I’ll do anything.”

“There ain’t no guarantee we’ll even get Jimmy.”

“I know you will. I just know it.”

I sigh, feeling stuck as a hog in a bog. “I’ll see if I can talk Mama into it.”

“You are the best friend ever! I swear I’ll return the favor someday,” she blubbers.

“I ain’t promising anything,” I explain, feeling guilty that here I’ve been such a lousy friend since she got back from camp and she’s praising me as if I deserve it.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she squeals.

Part of me wishes I could talk to her about what Jackson did with Mary Elizabeth. Stef has always been the one to give me advice about guys. But I’m just too embarrassed, too worried about what it might could mean about me and Jackson’s future. Instead, I say bye and hang up.

Least Mama ain’t likely to go for Stef ’s request. I head out to the living room.

“What are you
doing
?” I ask.

“Ironing, what’s it look like?” she says, as if she does this every day.

“Since when do you iron?”

“Since I got me a quality job.”

Quality? Filing papers for Denny Caterpillar is quality? What is the world coming to?

“You want something or not?” she snaps.

Oh, yeah, Stef. I’ve got to present this in such a way that it seems like I’m trying (I owe Stef that much), but without actually making it work (I ain’t that crazy). Mama has begun whistling a cheerful tune.

“Stef called. Her boyfriend from camp is coming to town with his Bible group. Apparently, our church is looking for families to host the Bible-group folks. And Stef wants to know can we sign up. But don’t worry, I know how busy you are getting ready for the new job and you’re tired from being at the hospital and all. So, it’s okay if—”

“No, honey, that sounds real nice. You go on and sign us up.” And she starts in whistling again!

“Pardon me?” She ain’t helping with this here plan at all.

“I said okay.”

“Why?” Can’t she tell a half-assed request when she hears one?

Mama laughs. “I think it’s a nice idea.”

“We might ought to have to go to church with ’em and all,” I warn, praying she’ll change her mind.

“That’d be great. I been thinking about getting more active in the church,” she says. That iron is zooming across skirt after skirt. I had no idea she had so many.

“Have you gone crazy?” I ask.

Her smile creeps me out. “Denny and I had some time to talk about, well, God and this and that while you were in the hospital and it got me to thinking, is all.”

“Just how much time did y’all spend together?” I ask.

She tries to hide a smile. “Aside from the times you saw him come by, he visited a few more when you were resting, called sometimes after you went to sleep at night.”

Ugh. I believe she may actually like the dude.

“What?” she asks, perhaps noticing my wrinkled-up nose.

“What can you see in him?” I blurt out.

“Savannah!” she scolds. “He done saved your life. I expect better of you.” When I don’t say nothing, she adds, “He may not be much to look at, but he’s awful kind and real thoughtful, too.”

It sure is something hearing her be so positive about a man. I mean, I’m happy for her, but I can’t help wishing she’d chosen someone younger and cuter and maybe without a temper that causes him to threaten somebody with calling the cops just for trying to help out a friend.

“It ain’t like we’re getting married or nothing!”

That image of her in a wedding gown lurks in my mind, making me feel like I may just throw up again.

“He makes me feel like . . . never mind.” She goes back to ironing.

“Like what?” I ask, real quiet, wondering what it is she’s embarrassed to say.

“He just makes me feel special is all. He brought me food and little gifts to the hospital, took me out, made me laugh. Ain’t nobody ever done that in all these years of hospital visits. And there’s just something about spending time with a person during those intense moments in life that’s . . . different. Listen to me ramblin’ on. Anyhow, we had some time talking and he got me thinking about the church and God.”

Dog slams in through the front door. “Did I just hear Mama say she been thinking about God? You going through the change or something?”

“Dog! Good night! How old you think I am? Alls I said was, I been thinking about being more active in the church. Wouldn’t hurt neither one of y’all to spend a little more time there.”

“Looky here,” Dog starts, “you going through some kind of life crisis, you go right on ahead. But you leave me out of it.”

Mama turns all red and blotchy. “Don’t you dare be disrespectful to me! I done raised you and fed and clothed you! I expect better than that, young man! You go on to your room and you can just stay there until supper!”

“What the hell?” Dog is clearly confused by Mama’s new Denny-inspired persona.

“And watch your language in my house!” she shouts.

Dog looks at me as if to say,
What is up with her?

I shrug and look at the floor. “It’s really okay if you don’t feel up to having a stranger stay with us this weekend.”

“Don’t be silly. Go on and sign us up.”

Hells bells!

 

 

Later on, Jackson calls while I’m stretched out on my bed. Mama brings me the phone. Luckily, Dog’s been released from punishment, so he’s out in the living room watching TV.

“You still mad?” Jackson asks me.

“Hurt,” I say. “I wouldn’t never cheat on you like that.” And my nose starts in to stinging again.

“Come on, now. Don’t think of it like ’at. Cain’t you just be happy it made me realize I don’t need nobody else?”

“Maybe,” I say.

“It ain’t like I called her up and asked her out.”

“You
kissed
her.”

“I kissed her
good-bye,
and thinking of you the whole time and how different it is when we kiss.” His voice sounds all throaty. And suddenly I miss him so bad I can’t hardly stand it.

“You promise never to do it again?” I sniffle.

“Yeah, I promise,” he consoles.

“I guess I can forgive you then,” I say, but I still feel bruised inside.

I wanted us to be different, wanted us not to ever hurt each other, not to ever doubt.

“You glad to be home?” he asks.

“Always,” I sigh, and tell him about the weekend plan, wishing I could just relax instead of having to deal with a houseguest.

“Don’t
you
go falling for someone else now,” he teases.

“Who, Jimmy?” I ask all shocked. “He’s just a little shrimp. Besides, I couldn’t do that to Stef . . . or you.”

“I’m glad,” he says. “I wish it was me coming for a visit.”

“Me, too,” I say, twisting up the blanket between my fingers.

“One of these days,” he says.

“When?” I ask, knowing he’d ruther I didn’t.

He don’t say nothing. Then finally he goes, “I best run. Say hey to that Jimmy for me.”

“Oh, hush,” I reply.

 

 

Well, we did not get stuck with Jimmy the Great for the weekend, no, sir. He got placed with ol’ Miss Caroline. Now poor Stef ain’t got a chance in hell of slipping out for any hanky-panky. But I ain’t got time to be too worried about her. I’m more concerned for myself. ’Cause you see, what we got stuck with instead is some crazy seventeen-year-old guy named Hal who says he wants to be a preacher. That boy’s got his nose in his Bible all daggum day. And since it was supposedly my idea, Mama says I’ve got to spend time with him, join in on the group activities, and show him around. Stef is going to owe me big-time for this one. Personally, I believe Mama’s just trying to get me out of her own hair so’s she can woo old Denny Caterpillar. Yuck!

I’ve got to take Hal on down for the first church event. We ride bikes (he’s on Dog’s). This dude barely knows how to ride. His balance is all wiggly-woggly; he doesn’t know about standing up to get up the hill; he doesn’t even know how to jump the dang thing up over the curb. It’s embarrassing.

Even though it’s a short ride, I feel worn out by the time we get to the church. I’m about ready to tear into Stef. But she’s tagging along behind Jimmy looking like a pathetic little puppy. Suddenly, I ain’t got the heart. His face may be full of bumps, and he may have a two-dollar haircut, but when he takes hold of her hand, damn, I go green, wishing Jackson were here to take mine.

I try to hang back and just be an observer, using my inhaler treatments as an excuse, but the preacher pulls me in and makes me participate. It’s one event after the next—icebreaker games and acting out Bible stories and fixing a community dinner. By the end of the day, I have had it. I can see how happy Stef is, so I try not to hold a grudge for getting me into this mess. But I can’t help wondering how God chooses whose prayers to answer.

 

 

I’m glad I’ve got the excuse of nighttime to be left alone, except of course for Dog snoring in the next bed over. Him keeping me awake means I got all kinds of time to lay there and ponder what Jackson did. I just keep imagining him kissing this Mary Elizabeth with her stuck-up nose and bouncy hair. Granted I’ve got no idea what she looks like, but in my mind, she’s just petite and perky and perfect. I toss in the bed, trying to find a position where she ain’t square in the middle of my brain. Dog lets out an extra loud snore.