Tomato Girl (11 page)

I shook my head and managed to smile.

“Drink this,” she said. “It will make you feel better.”

I sipped the warm, sweet milk. It soothed my throat and filled the sad place in my belly.

Miss Franklin went into another room and returned a few
minutes later with a drawing tablet and a box of colored pencils. “When I feel really down, it helps me to sketch pictures. The colors make me feel better again. Maybe you'd like to draw for awhile?”

I opened the drawing tablet. At first I made only a few random marks, but after a little while, pictures moved across my mind and I put them on the paper. Soon, three pages were filled. I drew Belle and my blue bowl. I drew my house on Grace Street with its wide front porch and shuttered windows, then a picture of Jellybean peeking from his oatmeal box.

I didn't draw Mama, Daddy, or Tess.

“You know, Ellie, I have to call your father and let him know you're here. I'm sure he's very worried about you,” Miss Wilder said.

“No, he's not.”

“Why do you say that?” Miss Wilder wrinkled her forehead.

“I just know.” I drank the last of my milk, then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Can I stay here?”

“Yes, I suppose. I mean, I'd love to have you spend the night, but I do have to ask your father, Ellie. Is that a deal?”

I thought for a moment. Teachers want permission slips for everything. Field trips and tardiness, even trips to the bathroom. She wouldn't understand that runaway girls don't bring notes from their fathers. I didn't want her to call Daddy, but knew she had to. I gave Miss Wilder my phone number.

She walked into the next room and called. Her voice was so low, I couldn't make out what she said. A few moments later, she stepped around the corner, the black receiver in her hand. “Ellie, here. Your father wants to speak to you.”

I held the receiver.

“Ellie?” My father's voice sounded sharp and hollow like an ax against wood. This was a voice I'd heard him use at other people, but never at me.

“Yes.” I stood in the living room and tightened my hand around the phone.

“I know you're upset with me, Ellie.” His voice softened a little as he continued. “There are things you're too young to understand, things I don't know how to explain to you.”

“I know what I saw, Daddy. You kissed Tess. I saw you.” I tried not to speak so loudly Miss Wilder would hear.

Daddy sighed. I pictured him running his hand through his thick, dark hair. He'd have his glasses off; he'd pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger, trying to find the words he wanted. “Ellie, I'm coming to get you. We'll go to Joe's, have an ice cream float and talk, okay?”

“I don't want to come home, Daddy. I don't want to go to Joe's, and I don't want an ice cream float!” I wanted to slam the telephone down, like I'd seen people do in movies.

“Ellie, you're just going to have to trust me. You belong at home. I'm coming over to get you now.”

“I don't want to come home! You can't make me!”

“Fine, Ellie. I thought you were more mature than that. You've always been my big girl, helping me at the store, sewing the buttons on my shirt. I thought I could count on you. Maybe I was wrong. And maybe I was wrong to let you have Jellybean, too. You just ran off and left him here. No food. No water.”

“I was going to come back and get Jellybean.” Tears stung my eyes.

My father used his firm voice. “You have a choice to make, Ellie. I'm calling a cab, and coming over to Miss Wilder's to get you. If you don't come home, Jellybean goes back to the store.”

My voice broke. “Please, Daddy, I'll come home. Please don't take Jellybean away!”

Daddy didn't say another word. I heard the loud click in my ear which told me he'd hung up the phone. I stood in Miss Wilder's living room as long as I could, holding the receiver in my hand. Maybe I listened for Daddy's voice to come back and say something to make the hurt inside me stop. Maybe I just didn't want to return to the kitchen and face Miss Wilder's questioning looks.
I don't remember what ideas filled my mind, only that I waited there a long, long time.

Miss Wilder's voice startled me. “Everything okay?” She poked her head inside the door and looked at me with soft, worried eyes.

“I have to use the bathroom,” I said, and placed the receiver back in its cradle.

I
NSIDE
M
ISS
W
ILDER'S
bathroom, I sank to the floor and leaned against the cold toilet. Tight knots twisted inside my stomach. Maybe this was my fault for letting Tess kiss me. I thought about the smoke kisses she blew against Daddy's neck a few weeks earlier while they talked inside her truck. That hadn't been my fault. This was all too confusing. My head hurt.

I stood up and ran my fingers over the gold bar of soap in the open shell on the sink. Then a knock came and Miss Wilder's voice. “Ellie, your father is here.”

W
HILE THE YELLOW
cab waited in front of the bungalow, I said good-bye to Belle and thanked Miss Wilder for the milk. She kissed me on the cheek and told me to visit again. Daddy opened the cab door for me. He waved at Miss Wilder, who remained standing on her front porch, her arms folded against the chilled air. Miss Franklin stepped outside and waved, too.

I climbed into the backseat of the cab and scooted all the way to the door opposite Daddy. The cab smelled like leather and cigarettes. A wad of bubble gum and a crumbled potato chip bag lay on the floor. As the cab pulled away, Daddy slid next to me. He wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my head. He rocked me back and forth, saying my name over and over.

His breath smelled bad, like the whiskey he keeps in his toolshed. I'd known my father to drink only when he was worried about important things like bills, taxes, and my mother's moods.

“I was so scared, Ellie. Don't ever do that again,” he pleaded. “Don't ever run away from me again.”

Seeing Daddy hurt was more than I could stand. I told him I was sorry and promised never to run away again. “Don't worry, Daddy, everything will be fine. Mama's coming home tomorrow.”

I
NVISIBLE THINGS LIVE
in the air. Dust fairies. Whispers. The static of socks on wool. I felt something invisible the night I came from Miss Wilder's house. The fine hairs on my arms and neck rose like threads.

Daddy stood too long at the window, staring at the road in front of our house. What did he see that held his gaze so long? I tried to imagine looking through his eyes. No matter how long I stared, I saw nothing but the blue-gray pavement darkening into black before it disappeared.

Tess flipped through magazines, but had little to say. She looked at Daddy, then back at the glossy pages of girls wearing bright clothes and earrings that dangled above their pale shoulders.

No one mentioned the kiss. No one said a word about me running away. No one spoke about Mama coming home the next day.

But the words nobody said were like oily fingers staining everything.

I sat cross-legged on the floor and played with Jellybean, trying small doll hats to see which ones fit. Only the bonnets that tied under his beak stayed on when he shook his head. I left a yellow one on for his sleeping cap and excused myself to go to bed.

That night a spider came to me in dreams. It wasn't the leggy black insect that scared me, but the web, white like skeins of yarn. Caught in the sticky fibers, I struggled, twisting my arms and legs, shoving the long, white cords away. No matter how I twisted or pulled, I couldn't break free. The web tightened around me like a thick cocoon.

T
HUMPING SOUNDS WOKE ME
. In my drowsiness, the spider's black heartbeat filled my ear.

I sat up in bed and screamed.

“Ellie?” a girl's voice came from outside my door.

I rubbed my arms. Only bed sheets. No spider webs. I felt my hair, running my fingers through tangles. I looked at my fingers. No spun web, only hair.

“Ellie? I'm … I'm out here.” Tess. Her voice sounded strange. Was she hurt? Maybe she was having a seizure? Maybe Tess was on the other side of my door flopping on the stairs with her tongue trapped between her teeth, barely able to speak.

Remembering what Mary Roberts had told me, I rushed to the table by my bed and grabbed Jellybean's feeding spoon. I tried to scrap off the dried oatmeal with my fingernails, but had bitten them to the quick since Mama's accident. I couldn't get the spoon very clean. Surely Tess wouldn't mind a little dried cereal if it saved her tongue. I tiptoed to my door, pressed my ear to the wood, and listened. Another thump. Daddy had hardly ever left Tess alone in the days she'd been in our home, so where was
he now? Not sure what I'd see or find, I took a deep breath and opened my bedroom door.

Tess stood partway down the stairs, wearing denim cutoffs and a pale pink tee shirt. She wasn't having a seizure. The thumping was Daddy's brown suitcase bouncing down the stairs, one step at a time. Maybe Tess was leaving after all. Maybe she'd decided to ask Daddy for train fare. She could go someplace new and different. Far away from here.

“Tess, where are you going?”

She dabbed the sweat from her forehead. “I'm not going anywhere.” She looked at my hand. “What's the spoon for, Ellie?”

I tried to think of what to say. “Nothing. I … I'm bringing it downstairs to wash with Mama's Palmolive.”

“Oh, we ran out of that. I had your father buy some Joy. It smells nicer.”

“Mama always uses Palmolive.”

“Well, your Mama isn't doing the dishes now. I am. And I like Joy.”

I knew this would be just the kind of talk to start an argument, so I changed the subject. “Is Daddy taking his suitcase to the hospital?”

“No, he's moving into the sewing room, and there's no bureau in that room for his clothes.”

I scrunched up my face. “The sewing room?”

“That's right,” she said. “Can you give me a hand?”

“Hang on.” I stepped back into my room, left the spoon on the table, then returned to grab one end of the suitcase. “Why is Daddy moving to the sewing room?”

As soon as I asked the question, I wished I could take it back. I knew it had an answer I didn't want to hear.

Tess didn't say anything until we landed on the bottom step. She stood up, brushed her hair away from her face, and sat on top of the suitcase. “Rupert is going to be sleeping in the sewing room, so he wants to keep his clothes in there.”

I sat down on the bottom step. “But there's no bed in the sewing room. Where will he sleep?”

“Your father is out in the shed building a frame for a mattress.”

Why would Daddy sleep in the sewing room? Maybe climbing the stairs would be too hard for Mama and a downstairs bedroom would be better. “Is Mama moving into that room because of her fall?”

“No, of course not. She's not moving into the sewing room.” Tess looked aggravated.

“Mama is still coming home today, isn't she?”

“I suppose so.”

“You will be nice to her, won't you, Tess?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Sure. Aren't I nice to you? Don't I let you play with my makeup? Didn't I give you your first Kotex? Teach you how to kiss?”

“Yes, but …” I felt suddenly shamed.

Tess sighed and folded her arms across her chest. “But what?”

How could I explain to Tess about Mama's moods? She does things without thinking, like the time she went outside to water her flowers wearing only her bra and panties, and Daddy had to pull her back inside before the neighbors saw. Other times, little things upset her in deep ways. She once burned a cake and cried for hours, and then forced herself to eat the entire cake as punishment. These were stories I couldn't tell anyone, especially Tess.

“Mama gets sad sometimes. She cries for no reason. Daddy says she's like a lily caught in a hurricane.”

Tess rolled her eyes. “Look, I made up her bed this morning and swept the floors. I made a pitcher of lemonade. I even packed her bag with clothes to wear home from the hospital.”

“I was supposed to pick her dress.”

“Well, I've already done it. See how nice I am?”

“I hope you picked something pretty.” I didn't want to start an argument with Tess. She might throw more dishes or cry to
Daddy that I was being mean. But I was mad that she'd picked my mother's homecoming outfit.

“I took a dress from the ones hanging in your mother's closet. If she doesn't like it, don't blame me. Ugly dresses belong in the Goodwill bin.”

“She's going to have a baby, you know.” Even Tess couldn't be mean to a woman who was going to have a baby.

Tess raised her eyebrows. “The doctor doesn't think so. Not after that fall.”

“Don't say that, Tess.” My throat tightened. I swallowed to keep from crying.

“Well, it's true.”

“Just don't talk about it. It's bad luck to say.” Mama's baby had to live. I crossed my fingers and recited God promises under my breath.
I will be good, God. I will be good.

“Okay. I won't say another word. Now, I've got some work to do before Rupert comes back.”

She stood up and lugged the suitcase through the kitchen and into the sewing room where my father would sleep.

If I could have one wish at that moment it would be to see Tess disappear like a snowflake touching warm ground.

I
FED
J
ELLYBEAN
before going to the kitchen to eat breakfast alone. Daddy continued to work in his shed while Tess busied herself in the sewing room. Every few minutes I heard the rustle of paper or thud of furniture as she rearranged the room to suit herself.

After my breakfast I cleared the table. With a damp sponge, I wiped away the coffee cup rings Tess had missed.