wouldn’t let you see that boy?”
“What boy?” I shrugged and looked out of the window. This secret was mine, wrapped like a shiny present, lodged on a high shelf where Mother could see it but couldn’t reach.
My paternal grandmother, Miss Bunny, died the very same year. James Lee Witherspoon loved his mother in the way that a son should. To my mother’s understanding, a man who cared about his mother the way James cared for Miss Bunny would never wil ful y mistreat a woman.
“Understand this,” my mother said. “James lost his daddy when he was a boy, leaving Miss Bunny to struggle. He saw that, and it made an impression on him. So he can’t leave Laverne to suffer like that. It would be a slap in the face to his mother. And on the other side, he can’t just leave us high and dry either. That would be an insult to Miss Bunny, too.”
“But Miss Bunny doesn’t even know we exist,” I said.
“Of course not, it would break her heart.”
“Wel then, what you said before doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes it does,” she said. “Love is a maze. Once you get in it, you’re pretty much trapped. Maybe you manage to claw your way out, but then what have you accomplished?”
In 1986, Miss Bunny was dying as I was taking my AP exam in biology. The proctor tapped me on the shoulder.
“Your father is here,” she said.
I looked toward the doorway, not believing. I looked back at my blue test book. “Where is he?”
“The principal’s office,” she said.
“Wil I get a chance to take a makeup? My mother paid for the exam.”
The teacher said, “Don’t worry about the test.”
I stood up, but I was worried about the exam. If I passed it, I would be able to take col ege classes over the summer for free. It would also look good on my application for Mount Holyoke. No one gets into an elite university without AP credits.
The proctor helped me gather my things, quietly so as not to disturb my classmates, whose responsibilities were less urgent than my own. Once we had shut the door to the classroom, she said, “I see where you get your pretty hair from.” Then she touched the curls that spil ed over onto my shoulder.
Raleigh, my father of record, was waiting for me in the lobby of the principal’s office. He looked terrible; his pale skin, thin under the eyes, showed purple veins. He wore blue jeans and a shapeless maroon shirt with the nubby texture of long underwear.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him. “Is my mother al right?”
“It’s not Gwen.” He covered his face with his hands.
“Is it James?” I said, believing myself to know the answer already. Raleigh loved no one like he loved my father.
“No,” Raleigh said. “No.”
I was stumped and a little annoyed with him. The AP exam was important. “Wel , what is it?”
“It’s Miss Bunny,” he said. “She’s dying.”
“Who?”
“Miss Bunny,” he said. “Your grandmother.”
“Oh,” I said. “Miss Bunny. What’s wrong with her?”
“Cancer,” Raleigh said. “They say she’s only got a few weeks, a month maybe.”
I stood there in the lobby of the principal’s office, not sure what I should do. I had never met my grandmother, a slight that bothered my mother more than me. Raleigh got up from his chair and picked up my backpack, my wool coat, and my lunch cooler. He made his way toward the door.
“Wait,” I said.
Raleigh looked over his shoulder. “What?”
“I’m in the middle of taking my test.”
Raleigh said, “Didn’t you hear me? Miss Bunny is dying.”
I stood dumb in the office. “I heard you. I’m sorry to hear it.”
“So let’s go,” Raleigh said.
It took my legs a moment to get the message. “I’m going?”
“She can’t go to glory without meeting you.”
“Wil Mother be there?”
Raleigh let his arms carrying al my things droop. “Just you.”
“Does she even know?”
“James says he is going to cal her.”
WHEN RALEIGH DROVE, he let me sit up front beside him. James always insisted that I ride behind.
