night back in Denver when the raspy voice called, my mother screamed and the bite of jelly sandwich I had just swallowed lodged in my throat. When I see her sitting in the bedroom bent over the Bible, I can still feel it.
Mama’s wearing one of her teacher dresses—the blue one with white piping along the bottom. She has lost weight over the months, and the dress sags at her waist and shoulders. Her hair is pulled back into a braid, pinned up at her neck. She is thirty-nine. Before all of this happened, she was making plans for her fortieth birthday party. Her invite list was two pages long. Her friends are gone now, too. Behind her. No contact. Mama looks down at her Bible. The Kingdom Hall is filled with new friends who call themselves her sisters and brothers. Mama goes every other night. On Sundays, me and Anna have to go with her. Her new sisters and brothers smile at us, don’t ask questions about our before life. When they did, Mama said It’s nothing anyone needs to know about. Nothing even worth mentioning. The sisters and brothers nodded as though they had lived their whole lives this way—full of things not worth mentioning. No one nosed too hard. The future’s what matters, the Witnesses said. Jehovah’s plan. It made me think that they were all hiding some part of themselves somewhere. Jehovah’s Witnesses don’t pledge to the flag. They don’t celebrate holidays. They don’t celebrate birthdays. We’re in the world but not of the world, Mama says. And anyway, a birthday is just another year.
“A job,” Daddy says again. He looks over at me, his eyes flickering recognition. “T,” he says. “Anna?” Then his eyes flick off, away from me.
“Leave him alone, Mama,” Anna says. And for a moment, the old Anna—Cameron—is there, looking at Daddy, her face all bunched up with worry. But then, just as quickly, she frowns, sucks her teeth at him and turns back to her schoolbooks. At night, Anna says If I ignore him, he’ll go away. Like a rotten tooth.
Where will he go? And I’m scared suddenly. Scared that Daddy will disappear as quickly and as permanently as Denver did.
And Anna shrugs, glares at me and says Who cares. He ruined my life!
Now Mama looks over at Anna and frowns. “I’ll leave all of you alone!” She slowly puts on her raincoat, slips her Bible and some plastic-covered Watchtower s and Awake! s into her shoulder bag, and leaves.
I stare past Daddy’s shoulder out the window. Outside, Mama takes the magazines out of her bag and walks slowly, holding them up to people she passes. The people shake their heads or ignore her. Their eyes flickering pity or disdain. Some look straight ahead like Mama’s not even there.
Something’s gone dead on Mama’s face, like some part of her is remembering that this isn’t who she always was. That she was once a teacher. That her students loved her. At the end of the school year, students would put so many apples and “World’s Best Teacher” statues and mugs and T-shirts on her desk, we’d have to come help her carry all the stuff home.
She holds the magazines in front of her now. Maybe she thinks they’ll keep the memories from coming. Hello. May I bring you some good news today? she says to the people she passes.
My father takes my hand and pulls each finger gently. He looks up at me and smiles. “Evie,” he says, shaking his head and sighing. “My sweet copper piggy.”
“Penny!” I say, looking at him sideways, not sure if he knows he’s made a mistake.
But then he smiles slowly and pulls my pinky finger. “And this little penny stayed home,” he says, winking at me.
Then I laugh, relieved. He and I stare out the window, our shoulders touching. He needs a bath. But beneath that smell, there is the smell that has always been Daddy.
“I’m glad Randall and Dennis went to jail,” I whisper.
My father pulls my head to his shoulder and sighs. The rain falls and falls. Mama holds the Watchtower s up a little
Mama’s wearing one of her teacher dresses—the blue one with white piping along the bottom. She has lost weight over the months, and the dress sags at her waist and shoulders. Her hair is pulled back into a braid, pinned up at her neck. She is thirty-nine. Before all of this happened, she was making plans for her fortieth birthday party. Her invite list was two pages long. Her friends are gone now, too. Behind her. No contact. Mama looks down at her Bible. The Kingdom Hall is filled with new friends who call themselves her sisters and brothers. Mama goes every other night. On Sundays, me and Anna have to go with her. Her new sisters and brothers smile at us, don’t ask questions about our before life. When they did, Mama said It’s nothing anyone needs to know about. Nothing even worth mentioning. The sisters and brothers nodded as though they had lived their whole lives this way—full of things not worth mentioning. No one nosed too hard. The future’s what matters, the Witnesses said. Jehovah’s plan. It made me think that they were all hiding some part of themselves somewhere. Jehovah’s Witnesses don’t pledge to the flag. They don’t celebrate holidays. They don’t celebrate birthdays. We’re in the world but not of the world, Mama says. And anyway, a birthday is just another year.
“A job,” Daddy says again. He looks over at me, his eyes flickering recognition. “T,” he says. “Anna?” Then his eyes flick off, away from me.
“Leave him alone, Mama,” Anna says. And for a moment, the old Anna—Cameron—is there, looking at Daddy, her face all bunched up with worry. But then, just as quickly, she frowns, sucks her teeth at him and turns back to her schoolbooks. At night, Anna says If I ignore him, he’ll go away. Like a rotten tooth.
Where will he go? And I’m scared suddenly. Scared that Daddy will disappear as quickly and as permanently as Denver did.
And Anna shrugs, glares at me and says Who cares. He ruined my life!
Now Mama looks over at Anna and frowns. “I’ll leave all of you alone!” She slowly puts on her raincoat, slips her Bible and some plastic-covered Watchtower s and Awake! s into her shoulder bag, and leaves.
I stare past Daddy’s shoulder out the window. Outside, Mama takes the magazines out of her bag and walks slowly, holding them up to people she passes. The people shake their heads or ignore her. Their eyes flickering pity or disdain. Some look straight ahead like Mama’s not even there.
Something’s gone dead on Mama’s face, like some part of her is remembering that this isn’t who she always was. That she was once a teacher. That her students loved her. At the end of the school year, students would put so many apples and “World’s Best Teacher” statues and mugs and T-shirts on her desk, we’d have to come help her carry all the stuff home.
She holds the magazines in front of her now. Maybe she thinks they’ll keep the memories from coming. Hello. May I bring you some good news today? she says to the people she passes.
My father takes my hand and pulls each finger gently. He looks up at me and smiles. “Evie,” he says, shaking his head and sighing. “My sweet copper piggy.”
“Penny!” I say, looking at him sideways, not sure if he knows he’s made a mistake.
But then he smiles slowly and pulls my pinky finger. “And this little penny stayed home,” he says, winking at me.
Then I laugh, relieved. He and I stare out the window, our shoulders touching. He needs a bath. But beneath that smell, there is the smell that has always been Daddy.
“I’m glad Randall and Dennis went to jail,” I whisper.
My father pulls my head to his shoulder and sighs. The rain falls and falls. Mama holds the Watchtower s up a little
Similar Books
