“Please don’t be so sad, Evvie,” he whispers, and I feel a few warm drops fall onto my scalp.
He tries to chuckle. “Remember when I told you you might be the smartest person I know?”
“Uh-huh,” I sniffle into his chest.
“This right here? This is one a the problems with bein’ so damn smart. You think too much. You just thought yourself into the saddest future imaginable, and I promise you: it ain’t gonna be like that. We’re connected, you and me. I think we always have been.”
I sit up and try to pull away. He doesn’t let me at first, but he does when he sees that I’m lookin’ for somethin’ to wipe my nose on. I give up and use the bottom of my shirt.
“Why you think we always been connected?” I ask, the sobs dyin’ out.
“I bet it sounds strange, but when we were young, even though we weren’t friends, I was always happy when you were around. A game of hide-and-go-seek could be fun, but it was always better when you were there. Bossy as you was.”
“I was not! Was I?”
He grins at me. “You were kinda like the sun. The sun goes away sometimes, but you know it’ll always come back. And it’ll always make you smile.”
He sure can say some pretty things.
“We weren’t friends, cuz I did my best to avoid you,” I tell him.
“Why?”
“Cuz I always had a crush on you, dummy! When we were really little, it wasn’t a big deal, but by about age nine, I got too self-conscious. I didn’t want you to think I was a dodo, so I just avoided you.” I’ve never told anyone that. I don’t think I even admitted it to myself before.
“But you are a dodo,” he says.
I kiss his chin.
“I wish life didn’t have to be so complicated,” I muse.
He kisses both my cheeks. Then both my hands.
“We can’t worry about all that. All we can do is have faith. Love each other. And believe we’ll make it work,” he declares.
We hold each other for a long time. As long as we can.
25
Kin
IT’S A SATURDAY, AND I don’t have to work today. No work for the next couple a days; the Heywoods went to the shore to get some beach time before fall gets here.
It’s a gorgeous day. A hair cooler than usual for deep August, but sunny, with big fluffy clouds. I can’t enjoy it the way I’d like, cuz I can’t stop lookin’ over my shoulder. Every time I go outside alone now, I keep waitin’ for Virgil to show up and make me pay for going back on our “deal,” or for the damage to his car and his face. Or for just not wantin’ a thing to do with him. He’s been so scarce that for a minute, I was relieved. I thought maybe my hex had worked and he’d left town, but I know better. My cursed two-headed self knows better. The hex flopped. He’s still here. He wants to punish me, so he’s waiting. He likes keeping me in a state of dull fear.
Worryin’ about this piece a shit is nothin’ new. Today should be no different, but if I was an insect with antennae, they’d be sittin’ straight up right this second. Somethin’ feels off. I hope my grandmother will know what it is. And will be willin’ to tell me.
I clock her shack on my way up the path like I got X-ray eyes. She ain’t busy and she ain’t got no one in there, so she can’t try some excuse. I open the door without botherin’ to knock or use my hands.
“Imma make you start payin’ rent,” she says with her back to me. She’s got something small in one hand, and the other picks at it with a dainty carving knife. She’s giving this thing her full concentration, glasses on the end of her nose.
“As soon as I woke up, I could feel somethin’ was wrong. Whatever you got left to teach me, you think we could try to cram it all in today? I got a strange feeling—” I stop myself and consider ending the thought there. But that ain’t the end of the thought.
“Grammie Atti,” I say, “I got a strange feeling that I’m runnin’ outta time.”
She nods in the direction of a plate. She still hasn’t looked at me.
“Want a cookie? Chocolate chip,” she offers.
“No. Thanks.” Cookies? What the hell’s goin’ on?
“Huh. Boy in the Marines made ’em for me cuz he couldn’t pay. They taste like shit if you like cookies, but I hate cookies, so they taste fine to me.”
I stand across from her, tryna force her to look at me.
“You heard what I said, right?”
“Uh-uh,” she says. “I don’t have nothin’ more to teach.”
“Please don’t tease me, Grammie Atti. This is urgent.”
Finally, she stops what she’s doing and looks up at me. She points to a chair, and I sit in it.
“I ain’t teasin’ you, girl. I taught you what you needed to learn. The rest is on you.”
I shake my head. “But—” And I grab one of her spirit cards. “What about this stuff? You didn’t teach me anything about that. You have all these tools to protect yourself, and I don’t!” I cry.
She snatches the card back from me. “Touch ’em again and Imma crack your knuckles with my switch,” she warns, and I know she means it.
“Why don’t you want me to know what you know?”
“All this ‘stuff,’ as you call it, ain’t Jubilation. It has little to do with it, in fact. This is my livelihood. I made a choice to direct some a my energy toward spiritualism. I was not asked to give you that kinda apprenticeship. I was asked to help you control the gifts you’ve always had, and that is what
