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Instead, she sat on the couch and watched TV with
him until it was time to eat or go to bed or
something. Her brother crawled across the floor,
grabbed her stepfather's pant leg, and was lifted
onto his lap. There Chad would sit, smiling at
Nancy, mocking her.
She couldn't hate her stepfather since he didn't
know she existed, so she hated Chad. When no one
was looking, she bonked him over the head or
kicked him with her stocking feet.
That was how she got her stepfather to finally see
her. She pushed Chad as he took his first steps in
her direction, arms outstretched, and he fell and hit
his forehead on the hearth.
Blood gushed out of the cut, and Chad howled his
pain and hurt feelings. Nancy patted his back,
horrified at what she'd done.
"You'll be fine," she said over and over.
Her stepfather knocked her out of the way. "What
did you do to him, you little brat?" He yelled for her
mother.
Her mother snatched her brother off the floor and
dabbed at the wound with tissues taken from her
pocket in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.
Squirming, Chad screamed louder. "This needs
stitches," her mother said to her stepfather.
Nancy shrank into the corner, wanting to be
invisible, but her mother called her to come with
them. She climbed into the back seat of the car and
fastened her seatbelt. Her mother held Chad in her
arms in the front seat. Her brother was sobbing as if
his heart was breaking.
"She pushed him," her stepfather said, backing out
of the driveway.
"It was an accident," her mother insisted.
"She's a devil." The wheels squealed as the car took
off.
Nancy looked out her window in surprise. Her
stepfather knew she was there all along. She warn't
a nobody, she was something worse. She could tell
from the tone of his voice. That's why he wouldn't
look at her.
VI
Annie
Her aunt found her after reading her story and
questioned her about it. "Were you Nancy?"
"I don't have a brother," she said. "I have three sisters,
and I don't think he likes them any better than he likes
me."
"Was it like that when you were a little kid? Was your
mother like that?" Josey persisted.
"Naw. Mom loves me, and I never hurt my sisters. He
wouldn't care if I did, so why do it?"
"Your story kept my attention. It's short, but good.
Keep at it." Josey stared at her for a long moment with
bloodshot eyes, then handed her the booklet. "I have to
go to bed now. Are you going out?"
"Nope. I'm tired too." Painting in the hot sun all day
after a late night had worn her out, but she wasn't going
to bed before dark.
Elated by Josey's praise, however meager, she found it
hard to concentrate on her book. Gnats joined the
moths and a buzzing June bug in assaulting the overhead
light and bats zipped around the yard in the growing
dusk, while she squinted at the print. When the
mosquitoes found her, she went inside.
Josey was gone when she got up the next morning,
leaving another note on the kitchen table. The big house
smelled of age and dust and spaghetti. Musty furniture
lurked in the dark living and dining rooms. She felt lost
in the space.
Propping her book open under a cutting board, she ate
a bowl of cereal and two pieces of toast. She was close
to the finish, more absorbed than ever in this strange,
disturbing family. But she willingly put it down after
eating, knowing that she had to go into town to get
more paint.
Driving into Clover in a fog of excitement, holding silent,
animated mental conversations with Molly, she felt
deflated and foolish to find Molly's father behind the
counter.
The paint can she carried hung forgotten in her hand.
"Where's Molly?"
"Making deliveries. I'm her dad. What can I do for
you?" He was short and compact with the physique of a
much younger man.
"Oh." She put the empty can on the counter. "I need a
couple more of these. They're for Josey Duprey."
"How's Josey these days?" he asked, moving the ladder
to take the paint down.
"Fine," she replied, an easy assumption for her to make.
When she left, she said, "Say hello to Molly for me, will
you? I'm Annie, Josey's niece."
In no hurry to paint she drove home slowly past fields
filled with blue and orange and yellow wildflowers for
which she had no names. Disappointment ached dully in
her chest. She wondered if she'd always be hankering
after some girl, always frustrated.
She'd been drawn to Sue her third year at the university
in the same way she was to Molly. Sue's presence had
brought out the funny, witty, attractive side of her that
right now lay dormant. Once, when Josey had been
lying on Sue's bed, she'd said something that made Sue
tickle her. They'd ended up rolling around in a laughing
tangle of legs and arms, finally falling to the floor. Josey
had been electrified with hope that came to nothing. She [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]