“Evvie? It’s been four days. You gotta get outta that bed. You gotta take a bath. And I’m probably gonna have to burn that dress.” She actually tried to joke at the end of that, which makes everything she just said even sadder.
I do the best I can. I get up and it hurts, and she walks me into the bathroom. I can do it, though. I run my bathwater, and I sit in the tub. When she grabs a washcloth and starts to bathe me, I take it from her. I can do it myself, even though it’s hard and it takes me a long time.
“Don’t you feel a little better now?” she asks once I’m out of the tub and wearing clean clothes. I make some kinda gesture with my head to acknowledge that I heard her.
“Now you need some food. I made shrimp and grits and biscuits,” she says, coaxin’ me to the kitchen. Coralene and Doralene appear from behind her, clinging to her hips for comfort as they look up at me, confused and scared. I shake my head.
“Okay. Well. I could make some soup? Or chicken broth?”
The world is moving past me, and before I give any thought as to why, I’m back in bed. Mama starts to cry, and then so do the twins.
“Baby, you gotta try!”
I’m sorry they’re all crying. I’m sorry I can’t help them. I’m sorry I can’t try. My eyes drift closed again, and already it’s better.
September. That means school. I can’t do the first day, which turns into the first week. The following Monday, Mama and a few of her church lady friends force me out of the bed and take me to a doctor. I don’t speak to him, either. He asks me how much weight I’ve lost in the last few weeks. I say nothing. Mama tells him at least ten pounds, and then he puts me on the scale and she gasps. Twenty. He says if I don’t eat, I’ll die. I don’t need a doctor to tell me this. He says Mama should force-feed me if she has to. He also asks her if she’s heard of St. John’s Wort.
“Evvie Evvie Evvie. Everybody misses you. A lot.” Anne Marie sits beside me on my bed. Today I’m sitting up. Today I’ll try to stay sitting up.
She’s brought books and papers and explains each to me.
“These are all the assignments you’ve missed from biology, trig, and history. I’ve put bookmarks in your textbooks, so you know which units we’ve done so far,” she says. “I’m sorry. Since these are the only classes we got together, these were the only teachers that would let me bring your work home.” She looks up at me apologetically.
I glance at the stack. Pages and pages of words that don’t mean anything to me.
“I could help you. If you want. So you don’t fall behind,” she offers. That’s sweet. I’m already way behind with no hope of catching up.
“Up to you,” she adds. She coughs nervously, and I feel bad that she’s here and seeing me like this.
“Please don’t give up, Evvie. We need you,” she says softly.
I lean back against the wall and stare out the window. Dreamin’ of escape.
“Uncle Roland’s gone. I was scared and I didn’t want to tell my parents about the black eye, but I did. And would you believe he admitted it? Daddy was furious, but felt bad kickin’ him out with nowhere to go. He gave him a month to find a place and told me I wasn’t to be alone with him again. As if I’d wanna be! Then Mama was makin’ plans for our Labor Day picnic. This was before…” She trails off. She means before Clay died. They decided not to have the picnic this year.
“Anyways, Mama mentioned havin’ you, your mother, and sisters over, and he started stammerin’ and sayin’ stuff that made no sense, and for some mysterious reason, he didn’t want you to come over. Mama told him plain: Evvie’s like family and it ain’t his house. Next morning, he was gone. Ain’t that somethin’? I mean, ain’t that weird?”
I try to give her a touch of a smile. I lost track of her situation, and I hate that I did. I’m proud she stood up for herself, though. I’m glad the specter of me unnerved her uncle enough to send him runnin’ for the hills. I do care, and I want her to know. I’m tryin’. I hope she knows I’m tryin’.
I can feel her eyes on me. Mine are glued to the parched grass out the window. Not for any reason. Just because they landed there, and I don’t have the energy to move them.
“I—uh—I had a soda the other day with this new girl. Pearl. She’s from Florida. I’d been wantin’ to tell you about her, but… Anyway, we had a soda and we talked. She’s real nice and funny and smart. She reminds me of you.” Anne clears her throat before continuing. “And we walked home and it was dark and…” Anne Marie stops to look up at me to see if I’m listenin’ to her. I am. I may not look like it, but I am.
“If I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone else?
I nod.
She moves closer to me and whispers, “She kissed me. On the lips.” Then she cowers a little, like she’s afraid of what I might say.
I turn my head and look directly at Anne Marie for the first time since she’s come into my room.
“What?”
“Thank you, Jesus!” she exclaims, and hugs me. “I got you speakin’ again!”
“Yeah, yeah, go back,” I say. “You and this girl… kissed? Like—kiss kissed?”
“I think so. Yeah. Yeah we did. Please don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t.”
“I’m
