“What about you? Are you going to be okay? Should I go to work with you?” I asked. Hope not. Hope not.
“Me?” she said.
That one word came out so lean I could almost hear Momma’s fear in it.
“Yes, you,” I said, and fixed my eyes onto her face. All the sudden I wasn’t so sure I should leave her. Would Momma be okay alone? She hadn’t done any wandering since those first few weeks after Aunt Linda left. And I always found her. That was more than a year ago. But …
Momma swallowed a few times. Did swallowing trouble run in the family? She looked off over my head, like maybe somebody waited behind me. But there wasn’t anyone there, I knew. I mean, I didn’t feel anyone back there. Then she nodded, though her lips seemed thin and too pale. “Oh, I’ll be fine. You know that. We always do good. Even with Linda gone.”
No we don’t.
“I know,” I said.
Right at that moment it felt like fire ants ran a path through me. I love my momma like nothing else but I wanted out. I needed to be out. Before Granddaddy started pestering her again. Before he started pestering me.
Get us out, out, out.
I bent over my food then, and ate fast not looking at her. My stomach fwomped at the thought of getting on the bus and riding to the library. Of dropping Momma off for a couple of hours. Of us being separate. So nerve-racking! So exciting! I grinned.
“What’s funny, Lacey?” Momma said. “Not much that’s funny.” Her voice was the color blue, cool and worried.
“I know, Momma.” The pancake started to get heavy in my mouth. “I wasn’t laughing about anything. Just thinking.”
“You see that paper? The place where I circled the article in crayon?” With a chewed-off fingernail she pointed at The Gainesville Times.
“‘Tornado Sweeps Through Oklahoma,’” I read the headline out loud. “‘Kills Sixteen.’”
“Two whole families were among the dead,” she said. “Whole families.” She raised her hand in the peace sign. There was syrup on her knuckle.
“Don’t think about that,” I said. I breathed deep the odor of maple, trying to ignore Momma’s words. I could smell the newspaper. Could feel the wool of the carpet beneath my bare feet where I’d slipped the flip-flops off.
Eat, eat, eat. Don’t think. Please don’t worry.
“Coulda been here,” Momma said, moving her head, her ponytail swinging. “Coulda been right here in Peace.” She tapped at the table, then leaned at me. Her voice was low. “Coulda been us.” Then her fingers went to work at the necklace she wears. I could hear the pendant making zip, zip, zip sounds on the chain.
“It wasn’t here, though,” I said, keeping my voice quiet. “It wasn’t here. Don’t think about it.” I wanted to say, “Quit reading the paper. Put it away. Don’t look for doom and gloom.”
But Momma is doom and gloom. And Granddaddy doesn’t help at all.
What would Aunt Linda do right now? I tried to remember everything she would say to help Momma hang on to calm.
“Don’t think about the ugly stuff, Angela.” “Think happy thoughts. Don’t let your mind wander. Focus on something sweet.” “God is good. God is good.”
Aunt Linda had a saying for every moment. Sayings for me, too.
Putting me to bed: “Sleep tight, Lacey-girl. Me and the stars are looking out for you.”
First day of school: “You need anything, Lacey-girl, I’ll drop everything and come right to that school and take care of whatever it is.”
Early morning on a Saturday before she headed off to work, “The beach is calling our names, Lacey-girl. Wanna go for a run?”
For me, most everything Aunt Linda said was like a salve. Even as Momma got worse. And for my momma, Aunt Linda’s words sometimes worked. Sometimes they didn’t.
That just how it was.
Just how it is.
And I’d just as well try. Say something. If not, I’d be here another day. And another and another. The thought felt explosive in my head. “You gotta new day before you.” My voice was a whisper.
Weak! What a weak thing to say!
Momma pointed at the headline. She worked at the pendant.
Then she glanced up at me.
“That’s right,” Momma said at last. “You are so right, Lacey. Yes, you are.” She mashed her hands together then tried to smile. A bit of sadness seemed to drop off her. It rolled right into my heart. I was so selfish. Why was I so selfish? I squinched my eyes shut for a second.
“You know what I tell Daddy?” Momma said.
My eyes were still closed. I couldn’t quite look at her. I shook my head no.
“I tell him that I got me the best baby girl in all of Peace. In all of Florida. In all the land.”
I opened my eyes.
Momma stared right at me. “I tell him you are something else. Something else. And when he gets me to try and follow him, I say, ‘Daddy, I got me a girl to look after.’” Momma reached out and ran her hand over my cheek, touching me with her trembling fingertips. “Yes, I do. I got me a child to take care of.”
I pushed at the guilt that hurried through me.
Just let me be selfish for this one day. Just for one day.
And maybe the summer. Just let me have this summer at the library.
“Momma,” I said. I took her hand. Squeezed her slim fingers. “Everything is going to be okay. We got each other.”
“Yes we do, Lacey,” Momma said. “You and me.”
Keep her calm. Keep her calm. Keep me calm, too. This’ll work.
“It really is going to be okay,” she
