I did.
New air rushed out of the room. Everything felt damp and fresh in here. The moon let in light through both my windows.
“To the closet now.” Momma’s voice was back. She rubbed at my arms with her cool hands, like maybe she wanted to take away the pain that had been there.
“Listen,” I said, turning to face her. “This isn’t what I want to do.” I put my arms around her and rested my head on her shoulder. “I don’t want to go away. And I don’t want you to, either.”
“I know. But it has to be, Lacey. I won’t do it without you.” Momma’s voice was smooth and, for the first time in a long time, she sounded determined. “I found him hanging from the rafter in my closet,” she said. “It was just before you were born. I was eight months pregnant with you and so big. I almost couldn’t get him down. I kept screaming for someone to call 911. But Linda was in the backyard. She didn’t hear me at first.”
“Don’t think about that,” I said. I hugged my mother tight. Tried to soothe her away from this memory.
“By the time the police did get here, Granddaddy was too dead to be helped. I kept breathing for him though. And they pulled me away. Took me to the hospital.
“And you were born that day.”
I knew Granddaddy and I shared the same day, but I hadn’t known what happened that afternoon. My voice came out shaky and weak, like an old man walks. “It’s okay. You’re all right now. I’m here,” I whispered in her ear. Pet her face. Smoothed her hair.
“No, I’m not.” Momma sounded weepy. “No, I’m not okay. And I don’t want you to ever feel this way. It’s awful. I hate the way I feel.” She folded in on herself like her feelings hurt her. Then she straightened and pushed me to my closet.
“No, Momma,” I said.
She pulled on the door and I turned to look behind me. A fat flashlight lit the space. There were two nooses in there. My clothes had been pushed aside, some dumped to the floor. Both ropes hung from the rafter of Momma’s old closet. My closet. Mine!
“No,” I screamed. “I’m not doing it.” A flowerlike smell swooshed into my room with the wind. The door slammed shut.
“This is where I found him,” Momma said. “We’ll do it together.” And then the Granddaddy voice. “Do it, Lacey.”
“I won’t.”
“Do it.”
“No!” I screamed.
The door to my room swung open, against the wind. More ghosts, I thought. I can’t fight any more than this.
“Lacey? Angela? I’m here.” Aunt Linda’s voice.
Just a shadow of her in the darkness. But there she was. Real and in my doorway, my Aunt Linda, back home again.
XVI
Aunt Linda made me wait in the living room for the police. I was almost glad to go, seeing Momma crumple up at the sight of her sister. The dark all around them, except for that old flashlight—Granddaddy’s old light—that Momma had saved all this time.
Then there was Aunt Linda pulling Momma onto her lap, like she wasn’t the baby in the family, but the older, stronger sister.
I went down the stairs, hanging on to the rail like it led to salvation.
Inside I was a storm of confusion. Like, how was Aunt Linda able to calm my momma down, but not me? And why hadn’t Aunt Linda just stuck around, living closer? Why couldn’t she have seen what Momma and me needed?
I stood near the front door, waiting, wondering. My knees shaking something awful. My stomach just sick. All those whys. So many whys.
Like why Momma wanted me to die.
At last I saw the police drive up to our house, from where I peeked out past the frilly curtains. Saw the flashing lights on their cars, their guns, their faces that seemed to change from red to blue to gray in less than seconds.
“It’s going to be all right,” Aunt Linda had said, before I came downstairs. She put her warm hands on my shoulders. “This is the way it has to be. Your momma’s worse than I imagined she could be.”
“I know that,” I said. “She wanted to kill me.” My voice was ragged and harsh. I shrugged her hands away. Anger filled me up. “I know she’s bad off.”
Now the policemen were on the porch. I could hear their heavy shoes. And I knew Momma could, too. Hidden back in my room. Afraid. The two of them upstairs together with Granddaddy’s ghost.
A policeman knocked. The sound seemed loud and empty. I moved to open the door. Upstairs I heard a scuttling sound. Momma maybe?
“You shouldn’t have gone,” I had said to Aunt Linda. I stood, staring down at the two of them. Momma all wrapped up in Aunt Linda’s arms. And that rope right there. “Never.”
In the darkness I saw Aunt Linda look up at me, her eyes wide, her face pale as the thin moon. Behind her the old flashlight burned, making my flashlight beam puny.
“I been doing this alone. All alone, all along.” Something close to pain and the feeling of being completely by myself filled me from toes to my hair’s roots.
“I know it,” Aunt Linda said. “I didn’t want to go. I just…”
“You left me to do it all single-handed. You took the easy way out.” I was so angry I could have spit flaming arrows. “It was hard the whole time.”
“I’m sorry, Lacey,” she had said. Her voice was a soft wail. “I’m so sorry. Honest to God, I’m sorry. I tried to see you. But she wouldn’t let me. And a few times I even came and checked on you when I knew you were home, hoping she’d be gone.”
“You didn’t have to go,” I said, my voice rising.
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Granddaddy’s been watching over us, Linda,” Momma said, soft as a pat. “Hasn’t he, Lacey?”
“Yeah, right,” I had said, then come down the stairs to wait.
Someone knocked again.
Weird how I couldn’t quite open the door.
Another knock sounded and one of the officers called, “Anyone home?”
My hand reached for the knob. I pulled back the curtains and glanced out at the men in raincoats, their hats protected by plastic.
“Did you call for help?” One of the policemen shined his flashlight in the house through the glass and I raised my hand to shield my eyes from the brightness. “Are you alone?”
I shook my head no and opened the door. “It’ll be okay,” I said.
Another patrol car pulled up, then an ambulance. All those lights flashing.
“Momma and Aunt Linda are upstairs,” I said. And I moved to let them inside.
* * *
MOMMA FOUGHT LIKE a wildcat. I heard it all. Once I tried to get up and see what was happening, but the ambulance lady wouldn’t let me. So I sat in the living room and listened. Listened to the crashing of furniture, to the breaking of glass things, and to my momma’s screams.
Outside, the neighbors stood on their own porches. Stood in the street. A few even braved coming into our yard. I looked for Aaron, but I didn’t see him, and I was glad for that, at least. A part of me wanted to yell to the watchers, “Get away.” But I didn’t. Momma and me didn’t share anything with our neighbors before. There was no need for me to share anything more than what they would see tonight.
Things calmed down at last, upstairs. After a few minutes, I heard clomping feet and voices. Flashlight beams bounced around. “Be careful of her on this turn.” “Watch the railing, it’s loose.” And “We’ll need some signatures before we take her.”
Take her? Take her? Take my mother?
I jumped to my feet. Without meaning to, I smashed into the old coffee table and upset an empty candy dish. It hit the floor and split into two perfect pieces. I just found Momma. No one could take her away now.
“My aunt’s here to help,” I said, rushing forward. “We can take over now. We can do it … together.”
Everyone, Aunt Linda included, stood stock-still in the living room. Momma lay on a stretcher, covered in a blanket and bound up tight with dark belts that crossed her chest and stomach and legs.
O
nly one paramedic glanced my way, then behind him as he let the legs of the stretcher down to the floor.
“Where you going? Where you going with my mother? She can’t leave.” In a few steps I was by Momma’s side. I reached for her, catching her hand in mine.
“Lacey,” Aunt Linda said. She came up beside me. “They’re taking Angela in for help.”
“No,” I said. Panic clutched at me. “She doesn’t like going out. I’ll take care of her. I have. And you’re here. You can help now. Like before.”
“Lacey.” Aunt Linda’s breath was warm in my face, smelling of spearmint. “Let her go.”
“No.” I pushed the words through my teeth. “I can take care of her. It’s my job. Even if you don’t feel like it.”
“Not anymore,” someone said, but I almost didn’t hear them.
Momma looked at me then. “Baby?” she said. Her voice was slow and soft, just about not there.
“I’m here, Momma.” I jerked away from Aunt Linda and leaned close to my mother, so close I could smell sweat, could see her greasy-looking hair, could see her scratches and that blood. I crooned the words at her, like she was the child and I was the mother. “Momma, are you okay now? You want me to tell them to let you loose? I can do a better job this time.”
“Baby?” Momma almost couldn’t get the words out. She seemed that tired. “I’m right as rain.”
A gentle peace filled me like warm water.
“Thank goodness,” I said.
Momma would be okay. For a second I thought I might fall to my knees from exhaustion and relief.
“You can visit a minute more,” the ambulance lady said. “We need to get her to the hospital. Your mother needs medical attention.”
I didn’t look at that woman. I pretended like she wasn’t even there.
Aunt Linda came up close behind me. A policeman took notes on a tiny pad, using his flashlight like a candle. Another spoke into a radio.
Momma tugged at me with her fingertips. I bent down close to her mouth. “You tell Granddaddy I’ll be back,” she whispered. “You tell him we’ll finish what we started later.”
I pulled away from my mother then, like her hand was the sun and had burned me.
“What?”
“You tell him,” Momma said. Her voice was light, like she had just a bit of life left in her.
I stumbled back, bumping into Aunt Linda.
No, no, nonono!
Aunt Linda tried to put her arms around me, but I would have none of that. “Too late,” I said over my shoulder. “Too late.”
The ambulance people started out of the house, Momma with them.
I hurried alongside her, outside into the overgrown darkness. I had to hear that again. It meant something to me. It meant something.
“Momma,” I said. “What did you say?”
“You tell him.”
“Wait.” I jogged now. My feet slapping at the wet earth with a pancake sound. The paramedics wrestled trying to push the stretcher, then decided to carry Momma and tucked the legs of her bed away.
“She doesn’t weigh anything,” one of them said.
“You gotta get better,” I said. “You hear me? You gotta get better.”
Momma didn’t answer.
“You gotta get better now.”
Fear ran down my arms. Different than when I was in the house. I could fight Granddaddy’s ghost when I could see him. But I couldn’t take on Momma’s demons. That scared me more than anything else.
From the porch Aunt Linda called, “Lacey.” I ignored her. Instead, I stayed beside Momma, then stood near the back of the ambulance where it opened like a huge, bright mouth and gobbled her up whole.
“You gotta get better now,” I said. “You have to, Momma.”
“Lacey?” Aunt Linda called after me.
Momma said nothing.
The mist of rain started again. Far away lightning split the sky. After a long moment, thunder rolled up and gave us a tap.
“Tell her good-bye,” the ambulance lady said. I saw now her hair was as red as dawn.
“I can’t,” I said.
“She’s going to be okay,” the lady said. She touched my shoulder. “We’ll take care of her for you. I promise.”
“She’ll be fine,” one of the policemen said.
But I knew in my heart of hearts, that wasn’t the truth. And now I had to say good-bye. What if I didn’t see her again? “I love you,” I said.
She didn’t answer.
“I love you, Momma.”
They shut the doors then. Got last-minute signatures from Aunt Linda. I watched that ambulance drive away. Some of the neighbors still stood outside. A few wandered away.
For a moment I thought to run after that ambulance.
“Momma, I love you!” I screamed the words, but my voice didn’t go far. It got stuck in the wetness and the trees and the dark. I stood out there in the mist that turned to a light rain then quit again. I watched the neighbors go in their homes. Listened to them talk as they went. Heard Aunt Linda call for me, saying that some boy named Aaron was on the phone, then shut the screen door behind her when I didn’t answer.
Still I stood outside. Knowing. Knowing Momma wasn’t gonna get better.
Not now.
And maybe never?
How could it all end like this?
I flopped down on the ground, soaking myself to the bone. But I didn’t care. I watched the place the ambulance went. And I cried.
I thought of Momma and her ghost. I thought of her wanting to kill me. And herself. I thought of the pain that made her want to do such a thing.
Aunt Linda came outside. She brought a housecoat and wrapped it around my shoulders. Then she sat right down next to me.
I kept watching the road. For what? Momma to come back? I didn’t know.
My poor momma. My poor, sick momma.
I cried hard then. Aunt Linda pulled me to her and I let her. Let her pet my hair, let my shoulders ease some.
So maybe, I thought after the longest time, maybe Momma wasn’t going to be getting any better.
But.
I took in a deep breath. A deep, cleansing breath. I wiped at my face with both hands.
But I had to. I had to get better or I might end up like her. I couldn’t let my granddaddy boss me around. Couldn’t let those thoughts in anymore. Behind me the lights of the house turned on, splashing across the yard, not quite reaching us.
“Lacey.” Aunt Linda’s voice made me jump. I looked into her face, dark in the night. “You feeling any better, honey? You ready to go in?”
I looked into my aunt’s face. Her eyes red, her nose pink, from crying? She was crying, too? For Momma? Or for me? For all three of us?
“I don’t want to go inside,” I said. My voice sounded like I had a cold, like I had been coughing too long.
Aunt Linda didn’t say anything. I stared back across the road, past the orange of the streetlamp, the same direction the ambulance had gone. The same way Momma had gone.
“I’m all alone now,” I said, my voice coming out a sad whisper. “All alone.” Saying the words made my heart feel empty.
Aunt Linda rocked me into her.
“No, baby,” she said. “No you aren’t. I’m here, too.”
I’m here, too.
The words were like sweet medicine. Soothing.
“Maybe,” I said, whispering, “maybe I am just like her.”
Aunt Linda let out a little gasp. “Oh my goodness, Lacey, you are not. No you aren’t. You, my sweet girl, you are right as the summer. And strong as an old work horse. No one could have done what you’ve done.”
That was what Aaron had said.
Maybe the two of them were right.
Maybe I was strong.
I would get better, no matter what. Because I did not want to be my mother. Not at all.
“Ready?” Aunt Linda said after a while.
I nodded.
Then I went in the house. Determ
ined.
* * *
IN MY DREAM, the room is full of books and Mr. Dewey flies straight to me. He perches on my finger and whistles a Disney song.
“I’m back,” Aunt Linda says. “I’m back.”
“And so’s Mr. Dewey,” I say.
There is a framed picture of Momma. She’s thin and her face is scarred, but she smiles at me when I look at her through the glass.
“You gotta get better, now,” Momma says. Her voice sounds just like mine. “You gotta get better, Lacey.”
Aunt Linda says, “I’ll take care of her, Angela.”
“She will,” I say. “And I’ll take care of me, too.”
Even dreaming, this is my choice.
Also by Carol Lynch Williams
The Chosen One
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
MILES FROM ORDINARY. Copyright © 2011 by Carol Lynch Williams. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
ISBN 978-0-312-55512-2
First Edition: March 2011
eISBN 978-1-4299-6658-0
First St. Martin’s Griffin eBook Edition: March 2011
Miles from Ordinary Page 12
