Signed, Skye Harper (16 page)

Nanny stared at me.

“All I’m saying is she has some traveling miles under her belt.”

“And all I am saying—” Nanny’s unlit cigarette dangled from her lips. It had been a few days since I had seen her fake smoking. “—is that your momma cannot be trusted on the road, and this thing is worth a billion dollars more than you and I have.”

The evening cooled down fast. Over in this part of town
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where Momma’s apartment stood, the city wasn’t so bright. I could see the stars, the closest I had ever seen. I handed a box off to Steve, who pushed it under the motor home into a huge storage compartment.

“I could almost pick you one,” Steve said. “Set it on a gold chain.” He stretched long and his shirt rose on his stomach. He reached for my hand, our fingertips touching.

“What are you talking about?” My face colored and I wasn’t sure why.

“A star,” he said. “I could almost get you one.”

“Why would you do that?”

Steve relaxed against the motor home, crossed his legs at the ankles. “A star would look good on you, Churchill.”

I was to him in three steps, pressing against him, knocking him off balance a little. Steve’s arms went around me, loose, like this was the way we were meant to be. Star or no star.
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146

How?

How could horrible things, awful things,
and
great things happen all at once?

How was it fair that the world keep turning? Going?

I pressed my face into Steve’s neck, grateful.
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147

The Last of It

It took forty minutes to load the motor home, what with the hugging in between box moving.

“I bet we are going to be over the weight allowance for road safety,” Nanny said when Steve locked the side compartment.

Momma gave a laugh then scooped me up. “I need a hug before Steve takes them all for himself,” she said. “I am so excited to get on the road! So excited to see home.”

Nanny, who looked like to bust out of her skin from happiness said, “I can’t wait till we’re a family again either. I have been hoping for this day. Waiting a long time for it.”

I rested my head on Momma’s shoulder. She sure did smell good.

“Hey,” I said into Momma’s ear. “I gotta tell you something.”

She held me at arm’s length. “What’s that, Winston?”

“Later.”

She kissed me on the forehead. “Later then,” she said.
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148

Said It and Glad I Did

I stood outside Momma’s apartment. Steve waited on the sidewalk with Thelma. Nanny and Denny were taking their own midnight stroll.

“It’s been a long day,” Momma said. She smiled at me, and her teeth looked like pearls in the moonlight.

I nodded, my heart thrumming. “Look it,” I said. “You have to be careful with Nanny.”

“What do you mean?” Momma said.

I pulled in air enough to maybe start a hurricane. Or maybe it would calm the hurricane I felt growing in my stomach. Why was I scared to do this? To talk to Momma like someone should have talked to her years ago?

“Say it, Winston,” Momma said.

“Okay then.”

Behind me I heard a car horn sound and there was a screech of brakes. Amber Dawn shouted for Momma to shut the front door. The two of us moved onto the porch.

“Go ahead.”

“Nanny’s been waiting for you to need her a long time, Momma. And if you break her heart, you know, by not coming home with us, who knows what will happen to her.”
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Momma seemed stunned. Her mouth opened and closed. “Winston, whatever made you think I’m not coming along?”

I shrugged. What
did
make me think this? Anything I could point to? Anything I could touch? All the horror of the past few days. All the good?

“Winston, girl, I am coming home. With you.”

“Really?” Relief spread out to the very end of my hair. “You promise?”

Momma nodded. “We leave after I finish my shift and get my paycheck tomorrow. We are on our way.”
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149

No!

And here came Steve, running, out of breath though he and Nanny and Thelma and Denny hadn’t been that far away.

“She’s been hit,” he said. The words were hollow. Frightened.

“Nanny?”

“Thelma.”

I couldn’t move at first. Then we were both running, Momma left behind, cold air, cold blood rushing through my body.

Is she dead?
I wanted to ask but I wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

On the road ahead, I saw a few cars stopped, headlights cutting into the darkness, and Nanny kneeling in one lane, another person near her, Denny hopping back and forth. People standing on the sidewalk, watching.

“No, no! Thelma!”

I could smell the road, the cars’ exhaust. Thelma didn’t move.

Nanny glanced over her shoulder. “Stay back, you two,” she said. She sounded tough, her normal Nanny self. “Don’t look.”

But I didn’t listen.
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I pushed past Nanny. The pavement felt too warm under my hands and knees. Thelma’s eyes were open, her tongue out. I crawled next to her. “Thelma?”

Nothing.

“Nanny?” My voice was the beginning of a scream.

My grandmother touched my shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to hit her, kid,” a man said. “I didn’t see her. I’m sorry.”

I put my face close to Thelma’s, that scream rushing up from my toes. Panic taking over every part of me. “Thelma. Thelma.” Her pink crocheted collar looked dirty. She needed a bath. I should have given her a bath.

I should have made her presentable.

My dog. My best friend.
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150

Almost

Then Thelma let out an almost-not-there whine.
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151

The Hospital

I cried all the way to the veterinarian emergency care, holding Thelma on my lap, who didn’t look at Steve at all. She stared at me. Every once in a while she made a feeble attempt to lick my tears.

The man who’d hit Thelma drove us to his pet’s clinic, crying the whole way too. Turns out he was a dog man.
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152

Tomorrow

The vet said all she needed was a cast and a stay overnight.

“We’ll pick you up tomorrow, Thelma,” I said, burying my face into her fur. She rolled her eyes at me when I kissed her forehead.
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153

A Dare

“Kiss me, Steve.”

“Not in front of the dog.”

Thelma played Steve’s guitar.

“Come on.”

“Your grandmother will know.”

“Since when did you care about that?”

“Since we met.”

I awoke with a start.

Thelma!

My heart slammed against my ribs.

The motor home was dark, and cool Nevada air blew through the open windows.

Nanny slept in the bed over the front seats.

From the back came “The Sound of Silence.” Guitar.

Nanny would never know . . .

I tiptoed to the back, the song growing louder as I moved closer. My lips tingled. I stood, quiet, outside the curtain.

“Come on in, Churchill,” Steve said.

I started. “How did you know I was out here?” I whispered the words.
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“I was hoping you’d visit.”

I pulled the curtain open. Steve sat propped up on the bed. His shirt was off. He set the guitar aside. “Come here,” he said, and I crawled up to where he was.
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154

Caught

I hadn’t kissed him even five minutes when the curtain was nearly torn off the track.

“Y’all,” Nanny said, and she breathed the word like the world was made of fire. And then: “Go.”

So I went.
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155

How People Get Babies

When I was on the sofa bed, and Nanny back up in the rack, I said, “How’d you know?”

“I heard your lips smacking,” Nanny said. “And it better never happen again. Kissing in a bed ends up with you having babies and then those babies end up taking off to California to become a star.”

“Oh,” I said. I was quiet a moment. I sat up, folded my arms around my knees. Denny settled himself in his box. “You ever thought, Nanny, that I might
not
take after you and Momma?”

Nanny was so silent I was sure she had gone to sleep. I listened for her snore, but instead she slipped down to where I sat and plopped on the bed next to me.

“I guess I don’t give myself much credit for raising you, do I? I figured I failed with myself and then I failed with my daughter. That means I would fail with you, but I guess that’s not always the case, huh?”

Outside, a semi roared past and the motor home swayed.

“I guess not.” I felt a little indignant. “You know I don’t want to do what you or Momma did, Nanny. I have plans. I want to be a swimmer. Go to college. And besides”—I
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played with the sheet—“I’ve seen what heartache does to people. I’ve seen on this trip how you wish there were lots of parts of your life that was different.”

She nodded in the dark. “That’s true.”

“And anyway, me and Steve haven’t kissed each other that much.”

Nanny stood, slapping her hands on her knees. “And I want to keep it that way. Stevie, you get on back in bed. I see you hiding out down there at the end of that hall.”

“Okay, Miss Jimmie,” Steve said.

And they both left.
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156

What We Are

We were scheduled to leave at three thirty, after Momma’s last lunch service at the Tropicana.

Me and Steve and Nanny and Denny did everything we needed to get ready.

We made a grocery run.

We filled up with gas.

We dumped off the sewage (gross!).

We picked up Thelma.

We washed the sheets and our clothes at the Laundromat.

Nanny counted out her money, which, she said, would get us back home if there were no more troubles, but I could see the worry between her eyebrows. Last night’s doctor visit hadn’t been figured on.

Steve and I kissed in the shady side of the motor home. He smelled like vanilla and I couldn’t figure out why. But I liked it. Liked his lips on mine. Liked his hands touching me. Liked the way he ran his fingers through my hair even though they’d get caught in the tangles.

“Churchill,” Steve said later, resting on the steps below the side door, “I am so glad I came on this trip with your family.”
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“You are?” I petted Thelma, who was still letting me give her love. Scary as it was, that broken leg made her want to be with me more.

He nodded. “Sure am.”

“Why’s that?”

The sun was hot enough to fry my eyelids. Thelma’s hair stuck between my fingers. Her cast was clunky and gave her a limp.

Steve stretched out long, and I slid closer to him so he could wrap his arm around my shoulders. “You’re all about loving each other.”

“What?” I looked at him, surprised.

“I see this fierce love between the three of you”—Thelma looked Steve in the eye—“I mean
four
of you. I don’t think I have ever seen that at my house. Just watched Dad take all Mom had to dish out and thought that was the way it was supposed to be.”

Inside, Nanny was singing an Elvis song.

“I like all the love about your family.”

I nodded. “Me too.” And man, I meant those words. I sure did.
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157

Eighteen Minutes

“She’s late,” Nanny said after a while. “Eighteen minutes late.”

By now I was checking out everything we had crammed into the fridge. I needed something good to eat. Grapes would do.

“Not yet,” Nanny said. “Don’t eat anything till your momma gets here.”

Steve shuffled the three decks of cards he’d bought at a casino. “Think my dad would like it if I came back to Vegas to be a blackjack dealer?”

Nanny didn’t answer. She stood at the door, looking out in the direction of Momma’s apartment.

I popped a few grapes off a stem and went to put them in my mouth.

“I said no, Winston.” Nanny’s voice had no energy. No oomph.

“Now, Miss Jimmie,” Steve said. “Don’t you get upset yet. Eighteen minutes isn’t that long. Why, my mother is sometimes three hours late for things.”

But Nanny didn’t answer.
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158

Knowing

When she was one hour late, Nanny said, “I think we ought to think about unpacking Judith . . . I mean Skye’s . . . stuff.” Nanny didn’t move when she spoke.

“Are you kidding?” I said. I felt sick to my stomach and not because I hadn’t eaten.

“Look,” said Steve, and he pointed off down the street. “There she is. Right? Isn’t that your mom, Churchill?”

“I think so. Nanny, you see the girl hoofing it toward us?”

But Nanny didn’t move. Not even to look. She sat still on the sofa.

“What’s the matter?” I said, putting my arm around her shoulders. “Nanny, she’s late. Here she comes.”

Nanny looked me in the eye then. “Winston,” she said, “you are the best part of my life that there is. The best thing that ever happened to me was your momma leaving you with me.”

I smiled at my grandmother. Swallowed a couple of times. For a second I felt like I couldn’t breathe, the way it sometimes happens when a wave surprises you, and holds you under the water like a hand. “And you’re the best part of mine,” I said, when I caught my breath.
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159

A Part Revealed

“Sit down, sit down, sit down one and all,” Momma said, hollering when she was half a block away.

Her voice was what? Excited?

My stomach rolled over.

“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”

By now I could hear Momma’s high heels clipping on the sidewalk.