I swallow bile and nod. “Good.” I know it’s now or never. I have to sell the lie. I move toward him. I don’t take in his nauseating scent. I close my eyes and tilt my head up to him. His face collides into mine, violent and clumsy and wet. I hold back the vomit in my stomach with all my strength, and then I reach up to that coal-black hair of his and caress the oily tresses before ripping out a fistful.
“Jesus!” he cries, stumbling backward. The twins run in the room, and I think I can hear Mama stirring now.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “Got carried away.”
Though he rubs his head in pain, he grins, proud of himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He reaches for the doorknob, but I stop him.
“Virgil?”
He turns to me, and his eyes actually seem to have life in them tonight. “I like hearing you say my name.”
I cringe, my insides shudder, but I continue. “The other night at the lookout, you said you came back to this town cuz a me. Why now?” I ask.
He leans in the door frame. Looks like he’s really thinkin’.
“My aunt keeps up with everything in this shit town. She remembered you and I used to be playmates not so long ago. So she thought I’d get a kick outta that story in the paper. You savin’ that family from the fallin’ tree.”
God. Dammit.
“And she was right. I did. Made me realize how precious life is. One minute you’re here; the next… We don’t have that much time on this planet. You find what makes you happy? You gotta take it.”
He regards me for a long second, waitin’ for me to say somethin’ maybe, but I got nothin’ else to say. Abruptly he vanishes down the hall. I strain my ears, but I don’t hear another peep from him. I have no idea how he got in or out of my house. Gone like a ghost.
“Get into bed,” I whisper to the twins. “Everything’s okay now.”
“You gonna see that man tomorrow?” one of ’em asks.
“No. And don’t tell Mama about any of this. It’ll just worry her.”
“What if she finds out by accident?”
“I mean it! Do not tell her, or you will be in real trouble. Trouble you don’t even know about yet,” I threaten. Then I kiss them both on the cheek and turn out the light.
In my room I look around for a suitable place to store the clump of hair in my fist. I grab the bag with the condoms from Mama, and I’m caught off guard by its weight. I look inside, and the condoms are gone. Replaced with a black-varnished wooden box.
I take it out. The top and sides are decorated with colorful Chinese-looking houses and trees and fireworks. It’s a jewelry box. The lid is fastened to the body of the box with a golden latch. I flip it open, and a lullaby starts to play. The interior is lined with bright red velvet except for the inside of the lid, which displays several rectangular mirrors of diminishing sizes. At the back, just in front of the mirrors and atop what must be the music box, a ballerina spins to the music. The mirrors make it look like a whole line of ballerinas getting smaller and smaller. And this ballerina. She wears all white, including her fluffy tutu. And her skin. Looks like mine. She’s my shade of brown. She could be a miniature version of me.
I feel a lump in my throat. I’ve never seen anything like this. I never thought anybody would make something like this. When you see a reflection of yourself from out in the world and it’s not meant to hurt or shame you? When it’s there to show you that you’re beautiful and loved? It just fills you up with warmth and something like grace.
There’s a tiny red envelope in the bottom that I almost didn’t see because it matches the lining. I open it and remove a thin sheet of paper that’s been folded many times.
I know you don’t remember me, but you will in time.
You always remember your first.
~V.H.
I slide down to the floor. Still clutching his hair, the lullaby playing over and over. How could this exquisite jewelry box have come from him?
I’m cold. I’m hollow. I mourn what Virgil took from me all those years ago. I’m too shaken to cry. To breathe. To anything.
I’m haunted by the living.
22
Brave
IT’S EARLY. I’M NOT DUE at work for an hour yet.
I go up the path, and when I get to the back porch, I hear voices. She gets clients before a lotta folks wake up. A bird lands in one of the shorter trees and takes up residence behind an empty blue bottle. The glass magnifies the bird’s image to absurd dimensions. I can’t make out the bird’s species from here. Blue feathers? Or is that the reflection of the bottle? Could it be a blue jay this late in the year? Blue jays bring good luck. I think.
The bird flies over to another tree on my left, and I get a better look at it. I don’t think it’s a blue jay. Too big. A blue falcon, maybe? I don’t know if they’re good luck or not. If there’s any point in believin’ in luck at all.
I’m about to knock when the door swings open and R. J. nearly knocks me over.
“Oh shit! You all right?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine. R. J. Why are you here?”
He shrugs, embarrassed. “Miss Athena done a favor for my aunt Mabel, so Aunt Mabel made a peach cobbler to thank her. I was just the deliveryman.”
I nod, looking past him to see if any other visitors are inside.
“Well, I gotta go, so…” I go through the screen door into the dim kitchen, leaving him behind me.
She’s sittin’ at the table with a
