Don't Let Me Go (5 page)

So she popped up where the basket was, and reached in front of a lady, and just grabbed every single piece of the red licorice. She could get her hand around all of it at once.

Then she went and sat in the corner, with her back up against the wall, and ate licorice and felt mad.

Then the meeting was over, and people were putting on their jackets to go, and some of them kept smiling at Grace like they were feeling sorry for her, which Grace hated more than anything.

After a while a tall man came over, and he had a gray mustache, and he squatted down to be the same tallness as Grace, and then he said, “That’s your mom, huh?”

By now Grace’s mom was resting with her head down on the table.

“Yep,” Grace said, like she wasn’t too happy about it, but then she reminded herself to be careful about things like that, because her mom was still the only mom she had.

“She’s in no shape to drive you two home,” the man said.

“We don’t even have a car,” Grace said. “We came here on the bus.”

“Oh. Maybe Mary Jo can drive you home. Mary Jo?”

This woman came up to them, pretty short and little, with gray hair and a wrinkled face, and the tall man got Grace’s mom on her feet and sort of steered her out to this lady Mary Jo’s car. It was a very small car, the kind with only two seats, and they belted her mom into the passenger seat up front, and Grace had to fold herself up small in that space behind the seat-backs.

While they were driving home, Grace had to tell the lady which way to go to get to their apartment house, and also she had to answer a lot of questions, all at the same time.

Like, the lady asked her, “Do you know who your mom’s sponsor is?”

And she said, “Yeah, it’s Yolanda.”

And the lady said, “I don’t know a Yolanda.”

And Grace said, “She’s from the other program.”

The lady looked surprised, and said, “She only has an Al-Anon sponsor?”

And Grace said, “No, not
that
other program, the
other
other program. The narcotic instead of alcoholic one. That one.”

“Oh, right,” the lady said, after a minute. “That explains why she doesn’t smell like she’s been drinking.”

And then all of a sudden Grace minded the lady, and the questions, and the whole night, and the everything. She just suddenly minded everything in the whole world, and wouldn’t talk to the lady any more, and was in a bad mood. She wanted more licorice, but she’d already eaten it all.

She had to help get her mom into the house, and it wasn’t easy. Then she thought that would be the last worst thing to happen that night, but it wasn’t, because the lady wouldn’t leave. She made Grace find Yolanda’s phone number, and she called Yolanda and told her she wasn’t going to leave until Yolanda came over there, because she couldn’t see fit to leave a child alone like that. That’s how she said it. She couldn’t see fit. Grace had no idea what that meant, but it made her mad. But, at that point, pretty much everything would have.

After a while Yolanda showed up, and Mary Jo went away, which was a relief. Grace was supposed to say goodbye to her, and thank her for the ride, but she didn’t want to, and she was feeling extra-stubborn, so she wouldn’t.

After she left, Yolanda looked down at Grace with that pity look Grace hated so much. She hated that look more than anything.

And Yolanda said, “Well, kid. Looks like we have ourselves a situation here.”

• • •

Yolanda stayed the night, and took Grace to school the following morning. Grace didn’t think about it too much during the school day, because if Yolanda wanted to…sort of…add herself to the situation…that was OK. That certainly wasn’t the end of the world. Yolanda was a little scary-bossy on a few rare occasions, usually when dealing with Grace’s mom, but mostly she was pretty OK.

So, it was after last bell, and Grace was walking down the hall toward the door, slowly, eating a candy bar that she’d traded most of her lunch for, and the candy was so completely taking her attention that she walked right into another student — not once but twice. When she stepped outside, she finally looked up, scanning around for Yolanda or her mom. But neither were there, and her face fell.

A woman waved.

“It’s me,” the woman said. “Your neighbor. Rayleen. Remember me?”

“Yeah,” Grace said.

Then she looked around some more.

“I’m here to pick you up.”

“You?”

“Me.”

“Why you?”

“Why not me?”

“Where’s Yolanda?”

“She needs to be at work.”

“She said she’d take off work to pick me up.”

“But she can only do that once. Or so. She can’t do it every day. So we thought, since I could do it just this one day, maybe we should save her taking off work until tomorrow. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

“She might’ve told me something, I think, like maybe that somebody else would be here. I don’t think she said who, though. Or maybe I guess I might’ve forgot.”

They began the long walk home together, through the gray neighborhood. A car drove by, projecting rap music at earsplitting volume, and Rayleen winced. Grace could feel the bass notes in every muscle of her belly, but she didn’t wince.

When they could hear again, Grace said, “So you can only do it this once, huh?”

“Usually I’m at work. I went in early today. I had a client who changed her appointment from the last appointment in the afternoon to early.”

“If Yolanda can only get off work once or so, who’s going to pick me up day after tomorrow?”

“I thought maybe when we got home we could talk to Mrs. Hinman. She’s retired. I was thinking maybe she would.”

“What if she says no?”

“Well, then…I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Oh. Whatever that means. How do you know Yolanda?”

“I don’t, really.”

“Then how did she ask you to pick me up?”

“I saw her in the hall this morning, when she was waiting for you to come up the stairs. I just talked to her a little about your situation, is all.”

“Oh,” Grace said.

She didn’t ask any more questions, at least, not until they got home.

• • •

When they got home, Grace asked, “Are we going upstairs to see Mrs. Hinman now?”

But Rayleen said, “Don’t you want to go in and put your backpack down first?”

“Not really.”

“I think you should,” Rayleen said.

Not having much in the way of a strong opinion on the subject, Grace answered with a blank shrug.

Rayleen followed Grace inside.

Rayleen paused briefly at Grace’s mom’s open bedroom doorway, and stood looking in at Grace’s mom, asleep on the bed. Rayleen seemed all prepared for something to happen, but Grace’s mom never moved, never flicked an eyelid, never made a sound. The shades were drawn, in this case a set of dusty blinds covering the high basement windows. Grace could see her mom in the little glow of afternoon that leaked through the blinds. Her hair had tumbled all around her face, covering it. It made Grace a little uncomfortable for Rayleen to see her mom that way, but she wasn’t sure exactly why.

“Are we going?” she asked. The minute it came out of her mouth, Grace knew, with that familiar guilty feeling, that she’d been too loud.

Rayleen jumped, and then she froze there in the doorway, as if expecting Grace’s mom to open her eyes or something. Actually, Grace also thought — just for a minute — that her mom might wake up. They both waited for it, but it never happened.

“Yeah,” Rayleen said quietly. “Yeah, we’re going to see Mrs. Hinman now. Let’s go.”

But she didn’t go. Not right away. Instead she wandered back into the kitchen, where she opened a few cupboards. Grace wasn’t sure why the insides of the cupboards would seem interesting to Rayleen — or to anybody else, for that matter. Rayleen opened the refrigerator and stared into it for a time.

“There’s nothing here for you to eat.”

“I think there’s some cereal at the back of that cupboard. And I know how to boil eggs.”

“But there’s only one egg left.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe we should order a pizza.”

Grace sprang to life as if someone had suddenly plugged her into a power supply. She jumped up and down, literally, screaming with delight.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, that’s the best idea anybody ever had, you’re my best friend, I love you, I love you, I love you!” she shrieked, among many other things, all along those same lines.

“OK, my eardrum,” Rayleen said, pressing one palm to her Grace-facing ear. “That’s my eardrum.”

Grace’s mom still did not wake up.

The phone jangled suddenly, and Rayleen jumped again. A second ring, and then Grace ran to it, and picked it up.

“Hello?” she said. Well. Screeched.

A woman on the line asked if she was Grace Ferguson.

“Yeah, this is Grace.”

The woman then asked to speak to her mom.

“She can’t come to the phone right now,” Grace said.

The woman asked if she was alone.

“No,” she said. “Rayleen is here.”

The woman asked to speak to Rayleen.

Grace held the phone out to Rayleen. “She wants to talk to you.”

Rayleen took the phone, but hesitantly, as if it might be more dangerous than anybody else’s phone.

“Hello?” Pause. “My name is Rayleen Johnson.” Pause. “I’m her neighbor. And…actually, if you don’t mind my asking, I’d like to know who
I’m
speaking to, as well.” Pause. “Oh. Well, right. There hasn’t been anybody home all day, so that’s why you just now got somebody. Grace was at school. I just now picked her up from school.” Pause. “Yes, ma’am, I’m looking after her.” Long pause. “It’s like this, ma’am.” Rayleen was half whispering now, but Grace could still hear her just fine. “I think that report you got might be all my fault. Not Grace’s mother’s fault at all. My fault. Who was it that called you, anyway?” Pause. “Oh. Right. Sorry. Of course you can’t. I’m sorry for asking. I just wasn’t thinking for a minute, there. Anyway. Here’s the thing. Grace’s mom hurt her back. And so she’s been on some heavy meds. You know, painkillers and those muscle relaxers that make you all sleepy. So that’s why she’s paying me to look after Grace. But…Well, I hate like hell to even admit this, because I just feel so terrible about it, but there was one day I messed up on my schedule and I wasn’t there when I was supposed to be, and Grace was alone for a while. But I swear to you, I promise, with my hand on a stack of Bibles if you want, nothing like that is ever going to happen again. Anybody can make a mistake, right? One mistake. But I’m a good babysitter. I’m responsible. Really, I am. Grace will be OK with me until her mom gets better.”

Long pause.

Then Rayleen gave her name again. And she spelled it — well, spelled her first name, as any idiot can spell Johnson, even fourth-grade Grace (or, at least, so she thought until she learned there was an “h” in it) — and explained how her address was the same as Grace’s, only apartment D instead of F. Then she read off her phone number.

Grace noticed that Rayleen’s hands were shaking, but wasn’t sure what to make of that. Maybe they always did. She’d never thought to check.

“But she’s kind of—” Pause. “Right. I’ll make sure she calls. Give me the number, I’ll write it down.”

After she hung up, Grace waited for Rayleen to explain who that had been on the phone, and why. But she never did.

She just took Grace by the hand and walked out the door with her, saying, “Let’s go talk to Mrs. Hinman now.”

• • •

“Who is it?” Grace heard Mrs. Hinman call through the door of her attic apartment. She sounded scared, like she was already sure it was a robber or some other kind of bad man, and was just trying to think how to stay safe against him. Like it hadn’t even occurred to her yet that it might be somebody nice.

“It’s your neighbor Rayleen,” Rayleen said. “And Grace.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Hinman said through the door, sounding only the tiniest bit happier. “I’m coming. I’ll be right with you. Just this one bar lock tends to stick a bit. This will just take me a moment.”

Grace said to Rayleen, “And then we can order the pizza?”

But just then Mrs. Hinman opened the door wide.

“Oh, my,” she said. “Rayleen. What’s wrong? You look very upset.”

“I have to talk to you,” Rayleen said. “It’s really important.”

Still holding Grace’s hand, Rayleen marched them into the apartment and stopped at the kitchen table, staring at a game of solitaire — actual solitaire with actual cards, not the kind you play on your computer. Grace had only ever seen the kind you play on your computer.

Rayleen said, “I didn’t know anybody played solitaire any more.”

Grace said, “People play it on their computer.”

Rayleen said, “Yeah. Computer solitaire. But not with real cards.”

Mrs. Hinman, who was still busy fussing with the redoing of all those locks on her door, said, “Well, if that isn’t the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. Computers cost thousands of dollars, and a pack of cards costs about ninety-nine cents.”

“No, computers don’t cost that much,” Grace said. “And, besides, you can do lots of things with a computer, but with cards you can only play cards.”

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Right. Sorry,” Rayleen said. “We want to know if you’ll pick Grace up from school for a few days. Just until her mom is…feeling better.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“Do you know how far away the grammar school is?”

“Yeah. I was just there. It’s about ten blocks.”

“
Each way
. It’s about ten blocks
each way
. I’m an older woman, in case you hadn’t noticed. I can’t walk twenty blocks a day. My knees would swell. They come up sore just from walking to the market, and that’s only a four-block round trip.”

Rayleen sat down hard on Mrs. Hinman’s couch. Very hard. It made her bounce once, just a little bit.

“I’m in trouble,” she said. “I did something. Just now. I won’t say something bad, because I don’t know that it was bad. But something I could get in trouble for. I lied to a social worker from the county. Told her I was Grace’s babysitter. So now I am. Now I have to be. Because they could send somebody out. Any time. Somebody could show up at the door, and then not only could they take Grace away if nobody’s watching her, I could get in trouble because I was supposed to be in charge.”