I said, “Phyllis told me you came looking for me, so that seemed like maybe a good sign.”
“So she did know where you were!”
It came out loud and scared me a little.
“Yeah. She knew.”
“Well, why didn’t she tell me?”
I was still looking down at the carpet, and my face still felt red. I was beginning to worry that that red thing might never go away again in my whole life.
“She sort of has this rule,” I said. “Sort of everybody who lives down there has this rule. You don’t answer any questions about anybody else. If the law comes asking, or their family comes asking after them, you don’t give anybody away. You always let it be up to them if they want to see somebody or not. You never let somebody get ambushed.”
“But if you hadn’t gone to see that boy and gotten my new address . . . she could have blown it completely by letting me walk away.”
“She knew I had your new address,” I said, and I swear my face got even hotter. “I told her.”
“Oh.”
I could tell she was embarrassed now, too, even though she didn’t say anything. I mean, after the “Oh” she didn’t say anything. But in the quiet I could sort of feel her embarrassment. I can’t really explain it any better than that.
It wasn’t really like me to stand up for myself in a conversation, but I figured it was going to have to be—you know, like, going forward I was going to have to change that. So I took a big, deep breath and I told her what I thought about her babysitting deal. It was hard, but I just did it anyway.
“Here’s the thing,” I said. And then I had to stop and breathe again. “I really love Etta, and I know you need somebody to take care of her, and I get that you can’t afford to pay somebody, but it isn’t really fair to ask me to do it for free.”
I stopped and breathed some more, and thought about all the other parts of it I needed to say, and tried to figure out how I would say them.
I mean, where could I possibly even sleep in this neighborhood? And would I have to walk to her house every day, or would I need to take the bus because I had to sleep far away? And who was going to pay for all that bus fare? And then I might be sleeping in a place where I was all alone, and I wouldn’t have people like Phyllis and the middle-aged guys looking after me, and that was a scary thought.
But then I started thinking maybe at least while I was here during the day I could take showers and eat food out of her refrigerator, and that was something. But maybe she couldn’t afford to have me eating all that food, and I couldn’t figure out how to ask if that was allowed.
So all those thoughts were making it hard for me to talk again, so I picked up that mostly eaten piece of pizza again and took a big bite, just to have something to do. And while I was doing that, she talked.
“I wasn’t thinking of you doing it for free, exactly. I was thinking of it in return for room and board.”
The pizza wasn’t nearly chewed yet, but I stopped chewing it, because I didn’t know what she meant. And I really, really wanted to know what she meant, the sooner the better, but I couldn’t talk around all that pizza, and it just sort of turned into this big dead lump that kept me from doing anything I wanted to do.
Then I made myself chew it up and swallow it, fast, because all that stalling was getting me nowhere.
“What room and board?” I said after I managed to swallow that half-chewed bite. It hurt going down. “Room and board where?”
“Here. Room and board here. I thought you knew.”
“How could I know that?”
“I’m sorry. I guess I wasn’t making myself clear. I thought you knew. I meant you would live here and babysit during the day. What did you think I meant when I said I would help you study for your GED in the evenings?”
“Well. I guess I just thought . . . you know. We’d study. And then you’d walk me to the door and say goodbye.”
I looked up quick at her face, then away again. It was really fast, so I’d already looked away again before I could really think about what I saw there, but she looked kind of hurt and sad, like she couldn’t believe I’d think that about her.
“I wouldn’t be able to offer you your own room,” she said. “There’s only one bedroom, and I thought Etta and I could share it. The couch folds out, so that would be your bed here in the living room. I know it’s not much, but there’s a half bathroom right there.” She pointed to a door. “So you wouldn’t have to come through the bedroom at night if you needed to use the restroom. But you would have to share that main bathroom with me anytime you wanted to take a bath or a shower. And you’d have to fold the bed back into the couch every morning. I know it’s not much. But it’s what I have to offer you right now. You’d eat normally every day. And if the GED doesn’t sound good enough, I totally understand. We could do better if you want. I’ll quit my job and get a night job and then you could go to school during the day. It’ll be hard, but . . .”
Then she just stopped talking, and it sort of seemed like she might never start again.
We just sat there, not
