“Ain’t said it was bad. Can mean different things. Be prepared for abundance,” she says.
“I’d rather have less than more of anything these days.”
“Well. We’ll see.”
I don’t know why, but I have an urge to give her a hug or somethin’ before I go, but that’s not her style. Plus, it would make it seem like I’m never comin’ back, and I will be back. I plan to be a regular at Grammie Atti’s until she gets sick a me.
When I get to the back door, I ask her one last question.
“Will ’63 be a better year than ’62?”
“You tell me,” she teases.
I step out onto the back porch and go down the steps to the front walk.
“Evalene?”
I jump. I didn’t know she was still behind me.
“Yes?”
“Don’t ignore me next time I call you,” she says sternly, but I can see a faint smile at the corners of her mouth.
“I won’t.”
“Evvie, I have a secret for you,” Coralene whispers.
“Okay. What is it?”
“I have to tell you later, cuz everybody will hear me.” Nobody’s paying any attention to her. Doralene is showing R. J. and Anne Marie the tooth that fell out of her head earlier, and Mama’s tellin’ her to get that nasty thing away from the table.
“You can whisper it. They won’t hear,” I tell her.
She’s skeptical but decides to give it a try. “You’re my favorite person,” she whisper-spits into my ear. Then she kisses my cheek and runs back to the other side of the table before I can say anything. I smile at her and blow her a silly kiss. She beams. It’s rare, but every now and then, the twins are kinda angelic.
Since it looks like everyone’s done, I start to clear the table.
“No! Let me do it! You’re the birthday girl,” Anne Marie protests.
“I do it all the time.”
“That’s my point,” she says, takin’ plates from my hands. I still help. Gets it done faster. Eventually, it’s just me and Anne Marie doin’ it. R. J.—bless his heart—is a li’l clumsy in the kitchen and broke a glass. He was immediately excused from duty. And Mama said she had to go “see about somethin’.” That’s cute. Like I don’t know what she has planned.
“Seventeen now. Does it feel good?” Anne Marie asks.
The idea of anything feeling “good” since losing Clay confounds me. So I’m pretty shocked when I find myself answering in the affirmative.
“It does. It’s a different feeling,” I reply.
Anne Marie studies me as she wipes some crumbs from the table.
“Can you describe it? What you feel?”
“Not in a way that makes any sense,” I tell her.
“Tell me in a way that don’t make sense then.”
I grin at her. “I feel larger. Not heavier or like I’ve grown physically—”
“Definitely not heavier, you skinny thing. We gotta fatten you up!”
“I just feel like there’s more to me than there used to be. That’s all.”
Anne Marie stops what she’s doing and regards me.
“See? Toldja it wouldn’t make any sense.”
“No, I think I understand,” she says, though I can see her tryna puzzle out exactly what I mean.
It’s better to expand than to shrink, ain’t it?
I glance at her, and she’s rinsing her hands in the sink. I don’t know why I tried to speak to her with my mind’s voice just then. I guess it’s possible that I might miss jubin’. Possible. Regardless, it’s all right that she can’t hear me. Lately I’ve been usin’ my regular voice just fine.
“Here. Have a seat,” Anne instructs, pulling out a chair.
“Why?”
“For heaven’s sake, Evvie! Just do it,” she teases.
I sit down and pretend I don’t know what’s about to happen.
Mama, the twins, and R. J. enter from the living room singing “Happy Birthday to You.” R. J.’s creepin’ along all slow cuz he’s afraid he’ll drop the cake. At last they set it down in front a me, just as they finish singing. I close my eyes.
Tell me about your thing, Evvie.
My what?
You know! Your thing. The thing that gets you excited. The thing that can take the blues away. Stars and such, right?
I open them again, and I blow out all seventeen candles at once. Everyone claps, and the smoke cloud dissipates. I can’t believe my mother went through the trouble of lighting seventeen candles. That’s what love looks like.
I cut the first piece, and they won’t let me cut any more so I just take it. She did a lovely job. It’s a ginger ale cake with pistachio frosting. I don’t know how she made this without me seeing or where she hid it, but I’m touched. She must’ve really wanted this birthday to be a nice one.
“Evvie, what did you wish for?” the twins ask me in unison.
“She can’t tell you,” Mama says. “Then it won’t come true.”
I take a bite of the delicious fizzy cake.
“No, I can tell you. I ain’t superstitious. This is really good, by the way.”
“Thank you, baby,” Mama says proudly.
“No matter what pain may come to the people in this room, I wished for you all to find your thing. The thing that gets you excited when nothin’ else does. The thing that can take your blues away. That was my wish,” I say. They all get quiet, and Mama’s eyes get real glassy.
“All right. Birthday rule: there’s to be no cryin’ while it’s still my birthday. Everybody got that?” I say.
“Hmm. Bossy. Sounds like the old Evvie’s comin’ back,” R. J. says with a wink.
“I ain’t cryin’,” Mama argues. “But that was a beautiful wish.” She sniffles a little. “Too bad it won’t come true, cuz you said it out loud!”
We laugh and start jabberin’ all at once. Mostly about the cake, which is the best thing I’ve tasted in ages. I’m keepin’ my eye on folks goin’ for seconds to make sure I have some leftovers for tomorrow. Then I notice Anne Marie and R. J. exchange glances. They are not subtle at all.
R. J. brings in a box from the living room. It’s
