“How you feelin’ this morning?” Ethel sat down on the edge of the bed and I rolled her way.
“I’m feelin’ fine this morning, Ethel. Thank you for asking. Did you tell him?” I nodded toward the window.
“No, I most certainly did not. I ’spect that might hurt Mr. Rasmussen’s feelings, tellin’ him you think he’s a murderer and molester, don’t you?” She was out of her nightie and into her Sunday clothes even though it was Tuesday. “I happen to know that Mr. Rasmussen thinks very highly of you, Miss Sally, so you gotta train your mind, get it to stop thinkin’ the way it’s been thinkin’ about him.”
I would have to work very, very hard to train my mind not to think the way it’d been thinking about him. But if Ethel was right, that’s what I had to do. Because if it wasn’t Rasmussen, I hadda start keepin’ an eye out for whoever else it was that was trying to do away with me.
“What time is it?” I asked her. I took a bite out of the toast and it was so good with those strawberry preserves spread on top of it. “Troo and I have that funeral to go to today. I promised Henry Fitzpatrick.”
“It’s just after seven.” Ethel got up off the bed. “I already gave Troo a bath and you’re next. I’m gonna go run the water. You finish up your toast, includin’ the crusts.”
I rolled onto my other side and watched Troo throw the ball for the little collie dog, who looked like it was having so much fun running around Troo’s legs with its tongue hangin’ out. Rasmussen was bent over at his waist, laughing at the two of them.
I could hear Ethel start up the bathwater on the other side of the wall. Before Mother got sick, I didn’t care much for baths and would complain the whole time, but now the idea of getting clean in that tub sounded just heavenly to me. Ethel would put bubble bath in it because that was what she always did for Mrs. Galecki. Bubble bath that came in a little yellow Avon bottle and made the whole house smell like vanilla ice cream. So I stuck the rest of the toast in my mouth, includin’ crusts, and got up to see if Mrs. Galecki was around. I thought I could read her a quick story or something for lettin’ me and Troo stay overnight at her house.
“Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Mr. Gary was sitting at the kitchen table with his mother. He was dressed in a nice white shirt and shorts. Mr. Gary almost always wore white clothes. He took such pride in his appearance.
Mrs. Galecki said, “Good morning, Sally.”
“Morning,” I said to her smiling face. She absolutely adored her son and talked about him all the time when he wasn’t here, told me little stories about him. Like how Mr. Gary was something called a late bloomer. And how he used to get picked on at school by bad boys who called him a ninety-eight-pound weakling. But how her Gary was doing so well after such a rocky start and she was so proud of him. So, of course, Mrs. Galecki musta been just Christmas-morning excited that Mr. Gary was sitting next to her at the round wooden breakfast table with cups of tea and toast and even some grapes.
“Come join us,” Mrs. Galecki said, and waved at me with her little gnarled-up hand.
“Just for a minute would be okay cuz I really gotta take a bath.” I could barely stand to be around myself, that’s how bad I had begun to smell, and sitting in Rasmussen’s green bean tepee in the dirt last night had not helped one bit.
I sat down next to Mrs. Galecki, who had a lot of lines on her face, especially around her mouth. But she had pretty eyes of a brown color that I had never seen before. Like the water down at the lagoon. Light muddy colored.
Mr. Gary was reading the newspaper to his mother. His ears didn’t look quite as bad as they had in that high school graduation picture in the hidey-hole. They still stuck out but his face had grown wider. “Today is the funeral of that little girl they found in the park. Did you know her, Sally?”
“Not really,” I said, popping a grape in my mouth. “Sara was younger than me and Troo. A third-grader.”
Mrs. Galecki shook her wobbly head back and forth and said, “How sad for her mother. You remember Cathy Miller, don’t you, Gary? She married Frankie Heinemann. Sara was Cathy and Frankie’s little girl.”
Mr. Gary shook his paper and said, “Of course, I remember Cathy Miller. Prettiest girl in school. Lovely, lovely girl.”
“I think the whole world is heading to you know where in a handbasket, don’t you?” Mrs. Galecki said. “What kind of monster would hurt poor defenseless children?”
Yesterday I woulda thought right away that Rasmussen would, but I was trying not to think like that anymore. Just as a favor for Ethel. But I was pretty sure this mind training would take some time. Like learning a new card trick.
I was getting ready to ask Mr. Gary about Mother and what kind of girl she was in high school and were her and him friends when Ethel called, “Miss Sally… bath is ready!”
“Thank you for lettin’ Troo and me stay over.” I pushed my chair back and said, “We appreciate it so much.”
Mr. Gary set his paper down on the table and said in that soft, light voice of his, “What nice manners you have, Sally.”
I must have blushed because he added, “And such wonderful coloring. You know what that means?”
I shook my head.
“You have green eyes and blond hair and skin with the nicest bit of peach tone,” Mr. Gary said. “That’s called your coloring.” He picked up his paper and said from behind it, “You’re a beautiful girl.”
“Miss Saaallly, get your behind in here ’fore this water gets cooled down,” Ethel called.
Then Mr. Gary said something behind his hand to Mrs. Galecki. I caught the words “Troo” and “coloring,” and they had a little laugh about that.
I went to the bathroom door and there was Ethel sitting on the edge of the tub waiting for me. “Just take off them clothes. I’ll wash ’em for you.”
“But what’ll I put on then?” I handed her my shirt and shorts and undies. Granny woulda said those clothes looked like something the cat dragged in.
“I called Nell. She’ll be here in a shake of a lamb’s tail with some clean clothes for you and Troo. She’ll be takin’ you to the funeral in Eddie’s car and givin’ me a ride, too.” So that’s why Ethel was in her Sunday clothes. She was going with us to the funeral, which shouldn’ta surprised me because Ethel never missed a funeral. She said it was important for the dead person’s family to know how many people were gonna miss ’em.
I slipped my leg into the tub and it felt so good, that warm water and those bubbles. Ethel put a brand-new cake of Ivory soap on the side of the tub and I stretched out and floated a bit. “Behind the ears, too,” she said. “And wash your hair.” After Ethel closed the door, I thought about Nell and her bubblehead. Even though Nell was doing such a bad job taking care of Troo and me, before Mother got sick Nell really was only about the third worst sister in the world. I would keep that to myself, though, because I knew Troo thought Nell was the number-one worst sister. Even when she was a baby, Troo didn’t like Nell one bit. Except as somebody she liked to bite when she got her teeth. And there was no reason for it. It was just Troo being ornery. And maybe just a little green-eyed jealous of Nell.
There was a shave-and-a-haircut-two-bits knock. “Sorry to bother you,” Mr. Gary said through the bathroom door. “I need to get an aspirin out of the medicine cabinet for Mother. May I come in?”
I sunk down deep into the bubbles and said, “Sure,” even though I didn’t want him to. It was his house, after all, and woulda been poor manners to say no.
Mr. Gary came in and got the pill bottle and then snapped the medicine cabinet shut and looked at me through the mirror. “Bet that feels good, huh, Sally? I just love the water. Back home in California I live at the beach and every morning I go for a swim.” He came to sit on the side of the tub down on the end where my feet were. I checked again to make sure all of me was under the bubbles. “It’s a wonderful way to start the day. Always makes me feel good and clean and just born again.” He gave me a little splash.
I thought about that and said, “Yeah. You’re right, Mr. Gary,” but I wished he’d leave or at least stop smiling because he had this one eye that crossed over a little and made him look a little off. His “coloring” was sort of like mine. Tan skin with blond hair, but instead of green eyes he had eyes the same color as his mother’s, lagoon brown. And his blond hair was so blond, it looked, like Nell would say, out of a bottle. And she should know because she was in her second week now up at Yvonne’s School of Beauty on North Avenue.
Ethel came back and found Mr. Gary and me talking. She gave him a little push toward the door and said to me, “Did you wash your hair?”
I slipped below the water but I could hear Ethel say something to Mr. Gary and when I came up he was gone.
