Now I was so excited, I felt a little sick. This was something I had wanted for a long time. I gazed at myself in the dresser mirror, pushing back my hair. My face looked okay, a little wrinkled on one side where the pillow had bunched up under my head. But I didn’t appear too tired. I’d slept most of the night. This time.
“Peace City Library,” I said, almost smiling. “I’m a-coming.”
Jumbled-up nerves made me feel like I could take off running fast as the hummingbirds flit from hibiscus flower to hibiscus flower in our side yard. That’s how excited I was about my new job. And jittery, too.
“Lacey,” I said, leaning close to my image and running a brush through my long, heavy hair. “This summer is gonna be okay.” I thought for a moment. Closing my eyes and letting my imagination spring out with the good crazies. “Maybe,” I said in a whisper, “maybe I’ll meet a friend.” Opening my eyes, I wiggled my head at my reflection. “A girlfriend. And she can…” I hesitated then took in a breath “… she can spend the night. We can talk on the phone. Go to the mall maybe.”
Nervousness and exhilaration ran out to the tips of my fingers. Anything could happen. Anything at all.
“Lacey,” Momma called from her room. Her voice sounded weak. My stomach dropped a little. “Where are you?”
“Getting dressed. I’m coming,” I said, but didn’t move from in front of the mirror. I threw my nightshirt onto my bed, then slipped the shorts and top on. Flip-flops from under the bed Don’t look there and I was ready to go.
“Is your granddaddy back?” Momma said.
I glanced at the closet. “No, he’s not.”
“Lacey, I need you to come talk to me.” Her voice had gone whiny. Puny even. Still, her words were like Batman’s Mr. Freeze. They stuck my feet to the floor. Cooled the blood in my veins. “I don’t think I can go today.”
“Oh yes you can,” I said, low so she wouldn’t hear me. There was no way. No way would I let this happen. I plopped the brush onto the bed, my hair half done.
“Unthaw, girl,” I said. “Get going.” In the mirror I could see two splotches of red on my cheeks. I turned fast and headed from my room toward Momma’s. No arguments. Not now. I wanted out of here.
“You are in charge. This time, Lacey,” I whispered, “you are in charge of the day and this job. Just…” I could only think of be strong. But be strong was like a sitcom. Be strong was what people said right before the end of the show and everything turned out good.
“Don’t worry, Momma. I can help you get dressed.”
Now that I was defrosted, I hurried, quick, into Momma’s room. It was dark and stuffy, the nightlight throwing a small, yellow splash on a bit of the wall and the carpet, too. Those old flowers, plum-colored and different looking in the day. Not that you would even know that the sun waited outside if this was the only room you went into.
I flicked on the overhead light and then the lamp next to Momma’s bed. Sat down next to her.
“Now Momma,” I said. Something like desperation tried to claw at me, but I wouldn’t let it. Stomped it flat. Pushed it away. “Remember how we practiced? Remember how we rode the bus downtown? Stopped you in at the Winn-Dixie and everything? Got the application. Filled it out. And they called you. You remember that?”
Momma looked at me, all dark-eyed, from the bed. Her body almost not there under the covers. She gripped her blanket and nodded.
“You can do this. And you yourself said we’re running outta money.”
“I know.” She turned her head. “If only there was more. If only I hadn’t spent it all. But you know I had to, Lacey.” She looked me in the eye. “I had to.”
“I know it,” I said. “I know it.”
“For you,” Momma said. “I have to keep you safe, Lacey.” Momma dragged a breath in. Sometimes the way she breathed sounded like work. Like it was all she could do. “A mother’s duty is to take care of her only child.”
“I know that,” I said, “and you going downtown? Well, that is like you taking care of me.”
She nodded a little. Looked away. Stared at the ceiling.
I reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were like little pencils. “The people at the Winn-Dixie are waiting for you. They want you to work for them. They want to pay you. You’re gonna do just fine.”
Now Momma stared in my direction. Her face smudged from not sleeping. Her eyes almost empty. But after a moment, she gave me a little smile. “I’ll do it,” she said. It almost sounded like there was an energy to her voice. “I’ll do it. For you. For duty.”
I grinned at her, relief coming to take the place of the almost clawing. “And I’ll get breakfast going while you dress.”
Momma sat up and I squeezed her tight in a hug. “I sure do love you,” I said, my words like feathers.
“And I love you, baby girl.” She patted my back, thumping her hands on me like I was a drum. “You are such a help.”
Before she could change her mind, I ran from the room and down the stairs to the kitchen.
“Granddaddy,” I said, grabbing the makings for pancakes. There wasn’t anyone in the room but me, so I spoke to the air, throwing my voice where he would hear me if he was near. “Granddaddy, don’t be bothering my mother today. She needs to be away from here.”
Soon as I said those words, I remembered Aunt Linda. Right before she left she’d said almost that same thing to Momma. “Angela,” Aunt Linda had said, “you need to get away from this house. You need to get free of those memories.”
Momma had watched Aunt
