Home Before Dark

by Susan Wiggs

  She concentrated on simply breathing, and hoped her emotions didn’t show. She was at a turning point, but for now, she wanted it to be a private transition. She was ending the only life she knew, and leaping blindly, in every sense of the word, into the unknown. There was something both gratifying and appropriate in passing the tools of her trade on to her sister.

  Luz looked ready to burst into tears. But she didn’t. Luz never burst into tears.

  The phone rang, disrupting the moment. Jessie grabbed for it. Since the accident, she’d adopted the habit of running interference for Luz.

  “Benning residence.”

  “Mommy?”

  The word froze Jessie, and for a moment she fell into the fantasy. “Lila? What do you need, love?”

  “Oh. Aunt Jessie.” The change in the girl’s tone flattened Jessie. “Can I talk to my mom?”

  “Is there something I can do for you?”

  There was a tragic sniffle that cut straight through the phone line and grabbed Jessie’s heart. “I’m in the nurse’s office at school,” Lila said miserably.

  “Are you sick?”

  “This is the nurse’s office. The refuge of outcasts.”

  The raw hurt in her voice clasped even tighter around Jessie’s heart. “You’re an outcast?”

  Lila hesitated. “I don’t feel so good.”

  Jessie tried to put together the scenario. Lila had come home from school yesterday and gone straight to her room, claiming she had homework. She’d scarcely spoken at dinner and resisted all efforts to draw her out. This was the first crack in her shield.

  “What’s the trouble, sweetie?” Jessie asked.

  “Oh, Aunt Jessie.” She caught her voice in a sob. “I can’t be here today. It’s too hard to be at school right now. I’ve got to get out of here.”

  Despite everything else that was pressing at her today—the day she was going to take a major step toward a dark and frightening future—Jessie didn’t hesitate. She was quickly learning a fundamental law of nature. When a child needed you, there was no time for a personal crisis. “You sit tight, love. I’ll get you out.”

  “Thanks for offering to give Lila a little TLC,” Luz said, hugging Jessie as Blair started the car. Nell had already left to meet with her pastor and some of the other families about the article. “I don’t mind letting her have a day off for some girl time in the city. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “Lifesaver.” Jessie snorted. “I’ve never rescued anyone in my life.”

  “Bullshit. Remember the time I broke my ankle in the woods and you went for help?”

  “Just like Lassie,” Blair said.

  “Okay, that’s once,” Jessie conceded. “Name another.”

  “You don’t get it. Once is all it takes. If you hadn’t saved me that day, I’d’ve died.”

  “Well, in this case, I don’t think Lila’s life hangs in the balance. She needs a day away. A day in the city might be the thing. I’ll take her to lunch, then see if they can work her in at Galindo’s—maybe a haircut and manicure? If there’s time, I’ll let her buy a new CD, and then we’ll catch a ride home tonight with Ian.”

  “That sounds good, Jess. But…” Luz bit her lip, and her brow creased in a way that made Jessie want to scream.

  But what? Don’t tell her I gave birth to her?

  “She might ask to go see Travis Bridger—he’s still in the hospital. I’d rather she didn’t visit with him yet.”

  Jessie let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Fine. We’ll steer clear of all hospitals. Got it.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound so bossy,” Luz said.

  Yes, you did.

  “She’s going to be okay, Luz. A day off, and she’ll come back a changed person.”

  “I pressured her to go back to school too soon after the wreck. I thought getting her back into a routine would be good for her. Instead I made things worse.”

  “God, Luz, why don’t you take responsibility for the anthrax scare and the Middle Eastern situation while you’re at it?” Jessie said. “Look, you did nothing wrong. A bunch of kids screwed up royally, something terrible happened and we have to help them deal with it as best we can. Lila is going to be okay because you raised her to cope. I’m doing my small part. Working on this article is going to be therapeutic—for both of us.” It felt strange, offering solutions to Luz, who always knew all the answers. Jessie added, “We’ll both be new women at the end of it all.”

  “Implying there’s something wrong with the old women.”

  “They’re old,” Blair shouted from the driver’s seat. “Let your sister get in the car, hon.”

  Jessie hugged her again. “We’ll be home with Ian tonight. Take some time for yourself. Make friends with the camera again.”

  She got in and gave Blair directions, guiding her through the shaded hills of Edenville and past the Gothic courthouse, which presided over the central square, its bell tower sandy yellow against the sky.

  “So this is your hometown,” Blair commented, navigating the Cadillac along Aurora Street.

  “My old stomping grounds.”

  They passed the Halfway Baptist Church, an old-fashioned wooden building with white siding and a perfectly groomed lawn. Nell’s Charger was parked at the side. The notice board in the front proclaimed, Our Angel, Albert Bridger, 1989 to 2003.

  The SkyVue Drive-in Theatre still stood at the far edge of town, the back of its towering screen painted in a Lone Star flag motif, red-brown streaks streaming under the bolts like rusty tears. The marquee read “Cl sed 4 the Seas n.”

  “I bet you made your share of trouble there,” Blair remarked.

  Jessie offered a rueful smile. She remembered cars that smelled of motor oil spilt over engines that ran badly, and the cheap, thin taste of beer stolen warm from a pallet behind the Country Boy Grocery. She could still recall the sensation of a boy’s curiously timid hand settling on her thigh. Or another boy, whose decidedly untimid hand captured her breast as though it were a fly ball out in right field.

  Blair surveyed the outlying, empty fields of layered rock and chaparral only a few blocks from the main square. “No wonder you left this place.”

  “Some people can’t imagine being anywhere else. It’s a town where all the neighbors know each other and none of the kids can get away with anything because everyone’s watching. But the trouble with some kids is that knowing they’re likely to get caught is no deterrent. It’s part of the game.”

  They parked in a visitor space at the school and stopped at the bizarre shrine to Dig—a mound of flowers and memorabilia that was already looking tired and forlorn. “We’ll want pictures of that,” Blair said, gesturing at the football jersey fluttering in the breeze.

  “Luz will do this right, Blair. I swear it.”

  They went into the high school. It was not exactly as Jessie remembered, but close enough. Locker room smells, disinfectant, coffee, hollow noises. A hallway gleaming from its nightly buffing. Hand-lettered signs bearing announcements: Homecoming ’03. Go Serpents!

  Leaving Blair to inspect the hallowed halls of Edenville High, Jessie went in search of Lila. The main office still rang with the busy chaos of a postal substation. And the attendance clerk, Mrs. Myrtle Tarnower, had not moved from her spot at an obsessively neat oak desk with its green blotter. Jessie thought her unreliable eyes were playing tricks on her, because it was impossible to conceive of Mrs. Tarnower sitting there year in and year out, keeping track of who was sick and who was late and who was truant, phoning parents to verify claims of the missing. Mrs. Tarnower must have called the Ryder place many times in search of Jessie.

  “I’m here to pick up my…Lila Jane Benning,” said Jessie to a woman wearing a black-and-purple booster ribbon. “My sister Luz—”

  “—just called about her.” The receptionist handed her a clipboard, then waved her toward the nurse’s office. It was still in the same location it had been two decades before, when Jessie used to stop in
for a Band-Aid or a Midol, or to hide out when she didn’t have her algebra homework done. She went down a side hallway, stopping at a heavy door with a thick pane of frosted glass.

  Jessie knocked lightly, stepped inside and encountered a husky boy with acne, sitting on a stool in the corner, holding a blue gel pack around his hand. Moving past him, Jessie peeked into a side room. There sat Lila on a low bench, her face pale and intense as she studied a bilingual choking chart on the wall.

  “Hey, kiddo.”

  “Aunt Jessie.” Lila exploded with the word as though she’d been holding her breath. “Thanks for coming.”

  “I’m glad to do it. Let’s go.” They emerged from the nurse’s office to find Blair in the foyer of the building, interviewing a pair of wide-eyed underclassmen. When they spied Lila, they excused themselves and hurried away, as though her misfortune was contagious. Pretending not to notice, Jessie introduced Lila to Blair and said, “So are you really sick, or sick of this place?”

  “I pick answer B.”

  “That’s what I figured. Listen, Blair and I are going to write an article about the accident. It’s going to be published in Texas Life.”

  “No way.”

  “Way. Mrs. Bridger and Mrs. Beemer both want to be in it. So we have some things to do in the city. She’s going to take the idea to her editorial board, and I’ve got a few errands. How about you come along? There’s something I think you’ll like, guaranteed to heal the sick. Ever heard of Galindo’s on Sixth Street?”

  “It’s only about the most famous salon in the city. Are we going there? Really?” Excitement animated her voice.

  “I’ll treat you to lunch and then a half-day spa routine. But I have to warn you, it includes a massage.”

  Lila settled against the pink leather upholstery of the back seat. “I’ve never had a massage before.” She fell silent until they passed the green-and-white sign: Now Leaving Edenville. Then she let out a long sigh.

  “Talk to me, love,” said Jessie, swiveling sideways on the front seat and reaching for her hand. She gestured at Blair. “Dr. LaBorde is a professional. You can say anything in her presence, as long as you understand she has no respect for privacy.”

  “I respect telling the truth,” Blair said. “Not everyone can handle the truth.”

  “The whole school knows anyway,” Lila burst out. “Heath dumped me.”

  Good. Jessie bit her lip to keep from saying it, but getting rid of the kid who had nearly killed her didn’t seem like a terrible idea.

  “I’m sorry, love,” she said. “I know you’ll miss him. Listen, about that article—your mom’s doing the photographs.”

  “No way.”

  “Way.”

  “I thought you were the photographer.”

  “Not anymore.” The finality of saying it aloud appalled Jessie, but she held her feelings in check. This must be how Luz did it, she realized. This was how Luz controlled her world. She erupted inside and kept the same shell on the outside. “So is that okay with you?”

  A shrug. “I guess.”

  “People want to know about the town, your friends, your life. But if you don’t want me to say Heath broke up with you, I won’t.”

  “However, the fact that he dumped his girlfriend on homecoming week says something about his character,” Blair added.

  “What’s that?” Lila asked.

  “That he’s a spineless weasel who won’t take responsibility for his actions,” said Jessie.

  A tiny, gratifying giggle escaped Lila. Jessie absorbed her lovely smile and filed the image away in her heart.

  “I had a boyfriend in college who dumped me two days before the Aggie-Longhorn game,” Blair said. “What a prick.”

  Lila looked startled and pleased by her salty language. “What did you do?”

  “My sorority sisters and I gave him the hairball treatment.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We all cleaned out our brushes and stuffed the hair through a crack in his car window. It made quite a pile, right on the driver’s seat, as I recall.”

  Lila laughed and brushed at her tears, but the levity was soon crushed beneath the dead weight of worries. “It’s not only Heath. I’m suspended from cheering because I missed practice—like, well, excuse me for getting into a car wreck. It’s not like I planned it. But it’s worse than that. Since this happened, Heath started hanging around with the religious kids.”

  “What?” Jessie frowned.

  “A group at school. They’re all like, if you don’t walk with Jesus, you can’t sit at my lunch table.”

  “I hate when that happens,” Blair murmured, cracking her gum.

  “Heath barely went to church in his life, and now he’s going around saying he’s forgiven and saved. In the meantime, they all blame me, and I wasn’t even driving.”

  “So why do you think they blame you?” Jessie asked.

  “Because they need to blame someone who’s not the star quarterback of the football team. He told everybody it was my idea to go out to Seven Hills that night, and my idea to go launching. He even said I told Dig to give up his seat belt to Kathy. They’re all treating Heath like some kind of war hero.”

  “Never mind that, love. Today is your day.”

  On the way into the salon, Jessie spotted a familiar book in a shop window, and insisted on buying it.

  “Pat the Bunny?” asked Lila.

  “For Amber. It’s the perfect toddler book—you read it by touch. I bet you don’t remember that I sent you one for your first Christmas.”

  “Nope. You’re dating him, right?” Lila asked with a sly smile. “Amber’s dad.”

  “Is one date considered dating?”

  “It is if he looks like that.”

  Jessie laughed. She wanted to tell Dusty he’d passed the Lila test. She wanted to tell Dusty everything. If she was smart, she’d avoid him completely.

  Ah, but she wasn’t smart. She’d never been smart.

  The spa restaurant served everything in tiny, artistic portions. The food came painstakingly stacked, with lines of raspberry vinaigrette drawn on the plates. They dug into their lunches, Lila savoring every fussed-over bite, Jessie barely eating at all. No wonder people spoiled their kids, she thought. Taking delight in the pleasure of the child created a quiet satisfaction she’d never before experienced. Lila’s obvious enjoyment of the meal and her anticipation over the salon were only the beginning. With her photographer’s eye, Jessie took memory pictures, studying Lila’s hands, face, expressions. It was strange and sad and fitting, Jessie reflected. She was spending her last official day as a sighted person with her daughter.

  She left Lila for a half-day treatment, giving her a hug as a woman dressed as some sort of New Age acolyte brought a glass of herbal tea and turned on a set of magnetic chimes.

  “This is so awesome,” said Lila.

  “It’s supposed to be three hours of awesome. I’ll meet you back here around four. We might have time for a little shopping, and then we’ll take a taxi to your dad’s office.”

  “Aunt Jessie?”

  The tentative note in Lila’s voice put Jessie on alert. “Yes?”

  “As we were driving in, I noticed—well, we passed the hospital. So I was wondering—”

  “Don’t ask, Lila. Please, don’t ask.”

  “I just—”

  “No.” Jessie knew she had to put her foot down. Why was that so hard? Then she wondered if Lila might sneak out of the spa and go to the hospital on her own. With everything else Jessie had to do today, she couldn’t afford a crisis with Lila. “Don’t betray me,” Jessie said. “I need you to not betray me.”

  “Jeez, you’re turning into a drama queen.”

  Jessie took a panicked breath of air and summoned up a cocky grin. “I’ve been wanting a change of careers.”

  CHAPTER 24

  The salon was a stroke of genius. What a perfect cover, Jessie thought as she walked the four blocks past the UT main campus to t
he Beacon Eye Institute. She wouldn’t need to explain her errands in the city at all.

  The concrete edifice of the building dominated an entire city block. She entered through swishing automatic doors and stepped into an extra-wide, accessible hallway with polished floors and sound-cushioned ceilings. Feeling like a rat in a labyrinth, she followed the color-coded stripes and arrows on the hallway floors, eventually finding her way to the ophthalmology wing. A long bulletin board outside displayed information about Eye Health. The Es were stenciled backward to imitate the symbols on an eye chart.

  “Cute,” she muttered under her breath, and entered through the glass door. She shut her eyes as she waited, not wanting to acknowledge the pamphlets and brochures about the importance of wearing safety glasses and getting regular eye checks. Ten Facts You Need To Know About Retinitis Pigmentosa. Living With Ushers Syndrome. Controlling Diabetes. Managing Anger. Oh, there was a good one.

  There was a word she didn’t see printed on any pamphlet or brochure, but it was like an elephant in the room. Blind. Such a simple word, used so frequently. Blind ambition, luck, rage. Venetian blind, duck blind, double blind. Blind fucking date. Taste tests, random samplings, justice. So many things were blind. She’d be in good company.

  At the outset, her appointment was entirely predictable, almost comfortable simply because it was so familiar. She knew exactly when and how to jut her chin on the brace of the slit lamp. The devices and tests, the questionnaire on a clipboard. Dr. Margutti had prepared herself by reviewing the mountain of data and history forwarded from the facilities in Taipei and Christchurch. She carefully documented the progress of the blindness, working with a perfect balance of competence and compassion. The doctor in Christchurch had provided nearly everything they needed in advance—physical and psychological tests, a complete case history, enthusiastic recommendations regarding her potential. “He probably couldn’t wait to get rid of me,” Jessie said. “What did he write? Jessie Ryder will make a great blind person?”