Messenger

by Carol Lynch Williams

  “You love it?” Momma asked. “You love your presents?”

  Momma and Aunt Odie looked at me, the baby too. Talk about three peas in a pod. I said, “Yes, ma’am, you know I do.”

  Then we all jumped all over the porch, this way and that, while Aunt Odie panted and fanned, hair moving like it breathed.

  10

  In my room, I paced.

  Back and forth.

  I didn’t want a party.

  For me, the family—my family—was good enough party people.

  But try to tell a Messenger anything. They hear only what they want to hear. So Momma swooped me up for a late afternoon lunch, and a little bit of school clothes shopping, and then carried me off to Aunt Carol, who patted at my hair with both hands. While I sat in front of the mirror and avoided my own gaze. Sheesh.

  “It’s growing long, Evie. You want I should cut it?”

  She motioned with her fingers—shoulder length. Behind me, her own hair stood out like a tornado had ripped through her shop. Momma’s did the same.

  “I don’t think so,” Momma said.

  “Me neither,” I said.

  “Good,” Aunt Carol said. She applied a little goop, pulled out the curling iron, steamed and twirled, then gave my hair a pat, pat, pat. Right above both ears.

  She turned the chair, making me face her.

  Aunt Carol, three years younger than Aunt Odie, put her hands to my cheeks. “A little makeup and not one boy who visits tonight will be able to look away.”

  “Boys?” I asked.

  Momma yelped. “Surprise!” She did a bit of a jig.

  “I am surprised,” I said. And a little humiliated, too, I wanted to say. But who can pop her momma’s happiness bubble with that kind of grouchy attitude? Yup. No mixing mixes today. And maybe no mixing at mixers. I sighed.

  Aunt Carol got out a tray with so many colors it put a good evening rainbow to shame.

  “A little bit of purple,” she said, closing my eyelid with her pinkie finger. “Makes green eyes look greener. Some gold.” She stared me right in the one eyeball. “So everyone knows who the birthday girl is.”

  I swallowed. I could smell perm solution. Bobby Rae rang up a customer, then slapped his hands clean after putting the money in the register.

  “How was your trip with Odie?” Momma asked. She read a People magazine. A super-old Brad Pitt stepped out of the ocean on the cover.

  I shrugged.

  “Don’t move,” Aunt Carol said. “You wanna look like a ho?” Her hands were cool and not shaking even one tiny bit, the way mine do when I apply mascara.

  “No, ma’am,” I said. ’Cause I didn’t. “Aunt Odie was sure Paulie would be able to tell me if I got any of the family Gifts. But he didn’t say anything. Just rushed us outta his house like that.” I snapped my fingers. The plastic apron, the color of a good black eye, waved with my movements.

  Aunt Carol stopped applying makeup. Momma waited.

  I stared at them in the mirror. Across the salon from us was Judy, giving someone a perm. And Maggie Moo helped a little old lady over to a sink so they could get her hair done.

  Momma said, “She took you awful early to see Paulie.”

  Momma knew Paulie?

  “Tell me about it.”

  “She’s always the most anxious,” Momma said, and Aunt Carol agreed with a nod. “Always has been.”

  “So what happened?” This was Aunt Carol.

  I wanted to shrug, and perhaps it was the best time to, because Aunt Carol was looking at Momma now.

  They were communicating the way the Messengers do. Like someone (me) wouldn’t see them and wouldn’t get whatever they were talking about was awful important, otherwise words would be coming outta their mouths.

  “And?” Momma said.

  “And nothing,” I said. “Like I told you, Momma.” I gave them both a trembly smile. What was wrong with me? I was okay not having a Messenger Gift. Who cared? “Looks like I lucked out. Ain’t nothing but a thing.”

  “Hurry it up, Aunt Carol,” Momma said. Her face changed from concerned to super concerned. Like she had realized something big. And then, “Can I borrow your cell phone, Evie?”

  Just like that my hands started shaking. “Quit trying to scare me,” I said, and retrieved the phone from my pocket. I handed it over to Momma. Don’t ask me why she doesn’t have a phone of her own. It’s her goal to be the only person in the world to not have one. Up till this morning, there were two of us.

  “You know all this,” I said. “You and Aunt Odie went on forever about it this morning.”

  Momma didn’t answer.

  Aunt Carol went back to working on my face. She was silent now. Listening in on Momma, no doubt. I was too.

  The salon felt all the sudden hot and sticky. I wanted to throw the apron aside and go stand in front of the air conditioner. Would that mess up my straightened hair? Why was that little lady talking so much to Maggie Moo? And what was Momma finding out, anyway?

  After a long minute Momma said, kinda loud, “We all got Gifts, Evie. Every one of us. Some more powerful than others.” Then she glanced at me and Aunt Carol in the mirror and left the shop so she could make her call in private.

  11

  Momma has the huge Messenger eyes and the hair that looks like someone’s been teasing it too hard. Her legs are thin and long and so are her arms, and when people see us together, the really old ones ask if we are twins.

  “Separated at birth,” Momma always says.

  On the way home from the beauty parlor, she refused to talk to me about anything but the party. And even then she was scant on the details.

  “Just you wait,” she said.

  12

  From the road I could see there was something amiss at the Messenger-Fletcher household. There were people at my home. One girl even walked into the backyard through the side gate.

  My stomach tried to squeeze out my mouth but I swallowed it, gagging only once.

  “Momma,” I said. Panic came out with the word.

  My mother switched off the car and turned to face me. “Baby girl,” she said. “You know you are the love of my life. This is good for you.” She stared off over my shoulder so hard I worried maybe she’d caught a glimpse of my Gift. Something Paulie couldn’t see. I checked out the window behind me.

  Nothing but a dusky sky and dragonflies zipping over the yard.

  I swallowed again.

  “I don’t think this is such a good idea. You know how scared I get. You know how shy I am.”

  Momma nodded. “I do, Evie. But this is your special day. You are fifteen.” She said it like I would be president. “And that means something in our family. The party is waiting on you. It’s almost eight.”

  I closed my eyes, remembering Aunt Odie hightailing it away from Paulie’s place. Then remembered all that private phone talking Momma had done in Aunt Carol’s salon. And her refusing to tell me anything at all.

  “You gotta step forward and get counted.”

  My voice came out a whisper. “I don’t want to.”

  Momma pressed a kiss to my forehead. “You look gorgy, baby girl,” she said. “Let’s get going.”

  So we got, whether I wanted to or not.

  Sigh.

  These Messengers.

  13

  JimDaddy and Baby Lucy stood right inside the living room under the chandelier that sent sparkles of light like fairies onto all the walls. The guests included—how could it be—my very own best friend Pearl from where we used to live what seemed an eternity ago!

  Pearl squealed and ran at me. We hugged so tight I thought my eyeballs might pop outta my head.

  “What are you doing home?” I said, breathless. My face was going to break in half I smiled so much.

  “I’m here for this,
of course,” Pearl said, spreading her arms wide. My best friend is named Pearl on accounta she was born with a mouthful of teeth that looked just like pearls. Her momma said to my momma (who was in the delivery room because her momma and my momma are best friends too), “Gotta make the best of it,” about all those teeth. My momma had agreed and told me later Pearl scared the bejesus out of her every time the baby smiled until she was two years old and was supposed to have some of those chompers.

  “Love your makeup,” Pearl said now. Her teeth gleamed. They look great, seeing she’s grown into them. “Aunt Carol did the same look for me one hour before you got in there.” Pearl’s been calling my aunts her aunts all our lives. She closed her eyes and I saw silver sparkle through the purple and pink.

  “Beautiful,” I said, and hugged her tight again, whispering, “I am so glad you are back from Wilderness Camp.”

  JimDaddy said, “Evie, you know Buddy. This here is Vera, Charles, and that there is Julius.”

  “Hey, y’all,” I said, and they all mumbled back a hey except Buddy, who said, “I get the first kiss.”

  He was so good-looking and his eyes were so brown I almost said, When do we start? but Momma stared at me with a fake smile on her face and JimDaddy pulled Buddy to the corner where my stepfather had set up his electric guitar and microphone. The two of them talked until it was time to sing “Happy Birthday.” Buddy nodded like a bobblehead.

  No Gift and no birthday kiss tonight. How could it be? Life was only half fair.

  14

  While JimDaddy tuned his guitar and while Momma had everyone pile fresh ingredients on their individual pizza crusts (another Aunt Odie secret recipe), I excused myself to my bedroom to take a deep breath and try and calm the nerves.

  I eased the door shut behind me and leaned against it.

  A girl stood in the corner of my room. The one I’d seen going through the gate to the backyard.

  “Erp,” I said, startled.

  She flapped her hand at me. “Sorry, Evie,” she said. “I shoulda been there when your JimDaddy was making introductions, but I can’t hang out with Justin.”

  “Oh.”

  “It makes me sad.”

  “Um.”

  She pulled her blacker-than-black hair back into a ponytail. It glittered in the lights from the special-order pink chandelier. “I’m Tommie.”

  “Okay.”

  “Sorry for not meeting you in the living room. It looks good, doesn’t it?”

  “What?” I asked, and then said, “That’s okay.”

  What was she doing in here? And without my permission. And what was she talking about?

  “Evie!” Momma called. “Come on and make your pizza!”

  I went to the heart-shaped mirror that hung over the dresser. My hair was still okay, styled in a way I would never be able to do myself. But my eyes looked too big. Surprised. And why not? There was a stranger in my bedroom.

  “Evie?” Momma again.

  I looked over my shoulder. “We better go,” I said, “or my momma is gonna have an infarction.”

  Tommie laughed, a soft sound that was almost sad. “In a minute,” she said. “I promise.”

  “But, ummm, everyone’s out here. That’s where the party is.”

  Tommie’s eyes filled with tears, making the blue color intensify. Her skin was so pale I knew she’d sunburn the moment she got out in full day unless she had on SPF 8000.

  “I’m not sure why I’m so emotional. We used to go out,” she said. She sat at the edge of my bed and wept into her hands. She looked too young to date to me, but maybe her momma didn’t care so much. What was a kid like her doing at my party? “And now everyone in the neighborhood is ignoring me. When I came tonight, I thought I could handle it. But I can’t.” She cried some more, her hair falling forward like a shroud.

  Well, this was awkward.

  “Evie,” Momma called. “Your guests are waiting for you.”

  “Okay,” I said to Tommie. “You can stay in here for a little bit. I guess.”

  She looked up at me, her face filled with thankfulness, then stood, went to the window, and turned back to me. “Are you sure? I’d really appreciate it.”

  I wasn’t sure, but what could I do?

  “Yeah,” I said, and left Tommie in the corner of my room, staring out the window into the growing darkness.

  15

  I scrunched into the kitchen with everyone. Julius tipped his head in my direction. “Nice to meet you, Evie,” he said.

  So this was Tommie’s old boyfriend. Cute, yes. Why had he dumped her? I’d try to find out tonight.

  Buddy slipped up between me and the boy Tommie was worried about. He smelled like soap. Buddy, not Julius.

  “Hey, birthday girl,” Buddy said. I glanced at him, quick-like. He almost smiled.

  “Hey.” I felt my face turn red as cake batter after Aunt Odie has been liberal with the food coloring. The thought of almost letting him kiss me made my stomach fall in on itself like a failed soufflé. I knew for sure my makeup did not go with embarrassment. I needed to get ahold of myself.

  “I got something for you later.” Buddy kept trying to look me in the eye, but I was too embarrassed. Plus, he whispered awful loud.

  Charles let out a “jeez,” then wandered over when Momma said, “Cheese is right here. And sardines are real good on a pizza, you know.”

  Pearl grabbed me by the elbow. Grinned right in my face, then gave me a little wave. “Don’t you dare take my best friend away from me! We have been apart all summer.”

  “I got a new phone,” I said. Where had I put that thing? “Now we can text each other.”

  Pearl whooped. Her mother is more accepting of modern times than mine. And no, Momma wouldn’t let me get my own cellular device before, even if I paid. Didn’t matter if I had the funds. “No need,” Momma had said, “of spending the few hours each day has to offer us talking to someone you can’t see nor hear.”

  Now I grinned at Pearl, the best friend anyone could ever have. She had pizza sauce above her lip, and she held a ladle. Probably had been using it as a fake microphone before I got here.

  “That Buddy,” she said right in my ear. “He’s hot! Evie, I sure have missed you! I don’t ever want to leave for an entire summer again.”

  Her arms were around me in a hug. The ladle hit me in the hip. She kissed my cheek and set me free. “Oh, why did you have to move? Why do you have to go to a different high school?”

  Just like that I was exhausted.

  It had been a long day.

  One that caused more stress than should be allowed for someone on what was supposed to be the best day of her life.

  First a storm, then scaring a huge medium and makeup and hair products and three almost strangers standing in my kitchen chatting. If I could just slink off with Pearl—well, that would have been the icing on the cake, no pun intended.

  “Let’s sneak out of here,” Buddy said in my ear. His breath felt like humid storm weather on my neck. My whole body warmed up. I jerked around to see him better.

  “For your present,” he said. “You know.”

  Pearl squinched her eyes at Buddy. “I don’t think so, Mr. Buddy McKay. Girls all over town know about your wily ways. Evie is going nowhere with you!” She tossed her hair at him and locked elbows with me. Then she giggled. “Go with him. Later,” she said where no one else could hear. She giggled again and I was so happy to see Pearl, I thought I might bust wide open, even though I was tired out.

  That’s what a good best friend does for you. It was nice to see her. Two days before school started. Not perfect, but great.

  “Come on, Evie,” she said, tugging me by the elbow. Her blond hair, braided and thick as a rope, swung forward when she pulled on my arm. “Let’s you and me go get us our signature pizza.”

  16<
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  When Baby Lucy was asleep and JimDaddy had sung himself hoarse crooning old heartbreaker songs while we danced in an awkward group of five plus three (and sang along with JimDaddy, sounding pretty good at times, I must admit) and Pearl called her momma and argued with her to pleeease let her stay the night and her momma said no, not with you being gone for so long, so she had to go home, and everyone else had left, too, there came a knock at the door.

  Aunt Odie.

  “Hey,” Momma said, kissing at Aunt Odie’s face. “What are you doing here so late? Back for more cake?”

  “I need Evie,” Aunt Odie said. Her voice was strained.

  Ahhhh, here to tell me about her auntie Doris. I wasn’t sure I could handle it right now, though.

  She walked into the living room (Aunt Odie, not Auntie Doris), limping like one leg was four inches shorter than the other.

  Baby Lucy, who awoke for only a few seconds, reached plump hands toward Aunt Odie, who kissed at the air near her. “Can’t right now, honey,” she said, and then, “Your room, Evie. And bring a hacksaw.”

  “What?”

  Momma raised her eyebrows.

  “I mean scissors.”

  JimDaddy, who was going around the living room with a huge garbage bag, said, “Going after that mustache of yours, Odie?” He snickered, and his blue eyes twinkled.

  Aunt Odie might not have heard him. At least she didn’t answer.

  I followed her down the hall, remembering Tommie at the last minute. The girl had never come out to the party. Was she still in my room?

  Aunt Odie threw the door open and collapsed on my bed. She let out a sigh that might have started a storm if we had been outside. There was no Tommie.

  “Shut the door, honey,” she said.

  I did.

  “Lock it.” Aunt Odie wiped at her brow. “Bad news,” she said. “Bad news!”