I could smell the mothballs and urine from the moment I’d walked in and taken a seat on the other side of the room. Now all I could smell was Jonas, sandalwood and leather, fabric softener and starch. I wondered if I smelled foul to him. I’d washed. I washed and showered every day. But I’d been in the institution for months now, and imagined it was like a cigarette smoke, the kind of odor that sank into the skin and hair and wouldn’t come out no matter how much you scrubbed your skin raw.
Jonas smiled at me and my cheeks burned. I brushed my hair back from my eyes, worrying for a moment if it looked as butchered as it felt. The nurse who brought me the clothes had put a bowl on my head and trimmed my hair up to the edge. Wet, it had been below the top of my ears. Dry it was in tight ringlets at the top of my head. My ears stuck out again and for some reason that bothered me.
The clothes, by the way, consisted of clean underwear, a bra, and of course a dress. At least my head didn’t itch and the shoes were well worn, too big, and didn’t hurt my feet. For some reason not wearing pants and wearing a bra made it hard for me to look Jonas in the eye.
At one point he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You look very pretty.”
It didn’t help.
The church had been bad, but the grave site was worse. The small crowd inside the chapel didn’t make it out to the neglected cemetery. A rusting wrought iron fence surrounded roughly five acres of stone monuments and goldenrod. The pale gray surface of the tombstones was stained with black lines from decades of rain. There were no flowers marking the graves.
Trash clung to the fence line, held there by metal and honeysuckle. Rose bushes that had once been pretty were now overgrown skeletons of thorns and insect ravaged leaves. Red blooms hung shriveled and dying.
As much as Emma had hated Momma, at least she hadn’t buried her somewhere that had been forgotten.
No, not just forgotten, but thrown away.
Jonas touched my hand. “He wanted to be buried here.”
I wondered if he’d somehow read my mind. Then I decided I didn’t care. “Why?” Because no one would want to spend an eternity in a place like this.
His hand patted mine. “C’mon and I’ll show you.”
We got out of the cab and he led me up the narrow gravel walk. Most of it had sunk into the ground. It was dry so the rocks had been concreted together by Georgia clay, forming a bumpy path leading through the center of the grave yard. If it had been raining I was sure it would have been too slick to walk on. Our shoes would have sunk in, and bits of rock would have stuck to the soles of our feet.
Gnats attacked my face and mosquitoes tried to suck a meal off the back of my neck. I slapped at them, smearing bits of black and red on the palm of my hand. It reminded me of the walkway where Grom had fallen and become stained with his blood and body fluids. A mix of red, black, and green.
I wiped my hand on my dress and hoped it wouldn’t show.
The hearse had already arrived and the casket had been unloaded and carried by strong backs along the winding trail, so Jonas and I were left alone among the forest of weeping angels and stone crosses packed with bird nests. Crypts sat like obscene gouges disrupting the lines of tilted headstones with their weight and girth. Large oaks and old pecan trees shielded us from the brutal afternoon sun. I could still feel it though, flashing on my skin with the dappled light.
All of it, the headstones, the trees, the crypts, was divided by rich reds and electric purples. An untold number of wildflowers sprouted from between the woven curtains of hummingbird vines. I saw a spider web stretched across a wide space and a monarch struggling for freedom.
Beyond the fence and wilted rose bushed the cemetery was like some magical place out of a picture book—from the high call of the mockingbird overhead to the fat layers of orange fungus sprouting from a fallen limb—it was like the far away worlds Grom had talked about.
I didn’t know if it was allowed or not, but I picked a few of the wildflowers and carefully placed the blooms between the pages of the program they handed out at the beginning of services. It wasn’t much more than a sheet of paper folded in half, but it would keep them protected.
“What are you doing?” Jonas stood at the top of the hill watching me with a smile. It looked wrong with his red rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks still damp with tears.
I folded the piece of paper but didn’t have a pocket to put it in. “Just picking some flowers.”
“What for?”
“For Noah.”
His smile didn’t change but his eyes did. He wasn’t angry, but I didn’t understand the strange shadow that came over his gaze. “Does Noah like flowers?”
“I don’t know. There aren’t any in the garden and the ones in the visiting room are plastic.” Something he already knew.
I fumbled with the piece of paper once again, trying to stick it in a pocket that didn’t exist. Even the scrub pants had had pockets so why couldn’t a stupid dress?
Jonas held out his hand. “Would you like me to hold those for you?”
I gave him the folded sheet of paper and it disappeared into his jacket pocket. His hand came back out to me. I felt odd taking hold of it, like I was somehow telling another lie to Noah.
Whenever I glanced up Jonas was smiling so I kept my gaze on my feet. Ant hills, a caterpillar, and the dried carcass of a dead rodent. Jonas stopped. We now stood at the top of the hill. Here the head stones were older but somehow the vines were fewer and so were the weeds. Along the slope the wild flowers changed, turning from delicate creatures with wide petals meant for shade, to hardier stalks with thick centers surrounded by yellow strips. Black Eyed Susans grew in a thick carpet covering the hillside down to the only manicured grave site I’d yet to see. The pallbearers were there shielded by a half dead pecan tree and a canopy with the name of the funeral home etched out in faded white letters.
Grom’s grave sat like a gaping mouth waiting to be fed. A pile of rich clay was off to the side and covered with a patch of indoor-outdoor carpet. His coffin was poised over the opening and the men stood with their hands on the levers ready to lower Grom down and forever into the earth.
Beside all the freshly ravaged ground was another grave stone. Behind it a thick bunch of sunflowers swayed, overlooking the Black Eyed Susans like a concerned parent.
A sharp pain clenched my throat and traveled down through the center of my body. My heart constricted and fluttered against my ribs. My eyes burned and I tried my best to swallow back the tears but they wouldn’t be stopped.
Grom had finally found his Sarah of the Sunflowers.
*** *** ***
Leaving the grave site was harder than I’d thought it would be. Maybe because I knew it would be the last time I ever saw Grom. But the truth was, he had his Sarah and he didn’t need Noah and me any longer. I hoped he was happy wherever he was. And I hoped there was lots of sunflowers.
Jonas offered me his handkerchief as we walked back up the path.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re crying.”
“Only a little.”
He made me stop and wiped my eyes. “I know it’s hard but he’s in a better place.”
“How do you know?”
He folded the handkerchief and put it back into his pocket. “You don’t believe in God?”
“I don’t know what to believe.”
“Why is that?”
“I just don’t. I’ve never seen God.”
He laughed a little and we continued walking. “You’re not supposed to see God. That’s the point of faith. You embrace Him by accepting the idea that He exists.”
I shrugged. “God doesn’t accept me so why should I accept him?”
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged again. “According to the preacher man God would disapprove of who I am. If he won’t accept me then why should I care what he wants?” I waited for Jonas to reply to my question.
Instead he said, “Are you hungry?”
; It was after two. Lunch had been served long ago. “Dinner’s only a couple hours away, I can wait.”
“You don’t want to eat now?”
I shrugged. “Sure. But the cafeteria will be closed and the kitchen ladies don’t like it if you ask for meals after hours. Most of them think if you can’t make it on time then you really aren’t that hungry.”
Jonas shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. I’m asking you if you’ll let me take you to lunch.”
I stood there trying to process the offer. “Not the cafeteria?”
“God, no, that food is awful!” He laughed. Then went serious. “Unless of course you prefer it?”
He was right. The food was awful. “No.”
Jonas headed up the hill and I followed. “Where do you want to eat?”
I’d been living off of white mash and bits of mystery meat so long I had no idea. “Where do you want to go?”
“It’s my treat, I offered, so you pick the place.”
It struck me again. I had no idea. I’d been in the institution so long I’d lost the memory of what I liked and didn’t like. I could no longer conjure up a meal in my head and know how it would taste. The realization disturbed me almost as much as it frightened me.
“Jack?” Jonas looked worried. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah, just, just please pick somewhere because I don’t know.”
“How does pizza sound?”
Perfect. The cab was still waiting for us. Jonas gave the man directions and we headed out toward the city. I’d never been to Atlanta. The skyline was visible from some of the windows at the hospital but there weren’t many tall skyscrapers. Not like what you saw in pictures of New York City.
From Union, Atlanta might as well have been on the moon. With the way people talked about it back home, it sounded dangerous. As if muggers waited for good people in every nook and cranny or space between the buildings. The only people I saw appeared to be shopping or going to work.
The cab pulled up to the corner of a brick building crowded with several different types of stores. Jonas got out. I opened my door and almost whacked him in the knees.
“I was going to get that for you,” he said.
“Get what?”
“Your door.”
I got out of the cab. “Why would you get my door for me?”
“Because my mother taught me the correct way to treat a lady.”
I waited for the anger. It was a feeling I’d come to understand, or maybe not understand but respect. Instead there was only a lull.
I shut the door. “Can we go in? I’m hungry.”
I could tell by the look on Jonas’s face that he knew something was wrong. “Yeah, sure.” He stepped up onto the curb and held out his hand. I took it just so he wouldn’t be too upset. “You’ll love this place. They have the best pizza in town.”
We went around the corner and carried on the warm breath of summer was the most wonderful scent I’d ever tasted—spicy, buttery, and rich with yeast. My mouth watered and my stomach growled. Jonas laughed.
“Sorry. I told you I was hungry.”
“You did.”
I let him hold open the door as we went inside and that seemed to please him.
While the street had carried the delicious scents of baking bread, cheese, and meat, the inside drowned me in it, wrapped me up, and then carried me away. I swayed on my feet with my nose in the air, inhaling until I was sure I would pop. The air alone in here satisfied me more than any meal I’d ever eaten at the hospital.
Jonas tugged on my hand and we wove our way through tables filled with patrons huddled around large paddles donning thick bubbling crusts. It was like watching some sort of strange dance as the threads of cheese followed their hands to their mouths and they twirled their fingers and flicked their tongues.
“Here.” Jonas pulled out a chair for me. “You sit and I’ll get our order in. What would you like to drink?”
“Anything but milk.”
He grinned and disappeared behind a large family trying to sort out who would sit where. All around me there was movement. Someone laughing. Someone talking. The people were dressed in so many colors. In just a few months I’d forgotten completely what the real world looked like.
An older boy, sitting across the room, glanced at me. His friends laughed about something. They all wore letterman jackets and looked like they might be from the local college. With their crisp haircuts and expensive clothes they could only be from the city. No one in a small town like Union dressed that way except on Sundays. The boy noticed me staring and smiled. I put my gaze on the table, then the napkin dispenser. I pulled out a few just to keep my hands from twisting up, or worse, tugging on my hair.
I caught movement from the corner of my eye and saw him excuse himself from the table and begin weaving his way through the patrons.
“There, that wasn’t so bad.” Jonas stepped out from behind a couple of waitresses and sat down with our drinks.
The boy stopped where he was. He gave Jonas a funny look before making his way back to his friends. “Are you okay?” Jonas offered me a straw and I almost declined. I took it because I was sure Grom would have wanted me to.
“I’m fine.” The boy was sitting with his friends again but he hadn’t quit staring.
“You don’t look like you’re fine. You look like you’re about to bolt.”
I leaned closer so Jonas could hear me when I dropped my voice. “That boy is staring at me.”
Jonas leaned back and looked. Their gazes met and the boy in the letter jacket nodded once and turned around. “There, he’s not staring at you anymore.”
But he was. In between bites of pizza and words with his friends he would glance up and look me over.
“You don’t like for boys to stare at you?”
“I don’t care, it’s just…” I felt naked in the dress, awkward. As if I’d been dressed up like a clown and stuffed in the middle of a room for everyone to point and laugh at. But it was impossible to explain those kinds of things to Jonas.
“Why do you think he was staring at you?” Jonas sipped his drink.
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe because you’re very pretty?”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
I poked at the pieces of ice with my straw. “I’m not.”
“And why would you think that?”
“My ears stick out, for one.”
“Your ears are fine. In fact, they’re perfect for earrings.”
As if the very suggestion had put one there, I tugged on my lobe. “I don’t want any.”
“Really? I thought it was the fashion these days for girls to wear earrings.”
I stared at my hands.
“Jack?”
“Please don’t call me that.”
“I thought it was your name.”
“My name is Jack, but I don’t want to be called a girl.”
“Young woman perhaps?”
“No.”
“I have a cheese pizza with mushrooms and pepperoni?” The waitress pushed her way to our table.
Jonas raised his hand. “That would be us.”
A large flat paddle was put down between us. I could hear the cheese sizzling against the crust.
“You two enjoy.” She disappeared back behind the wall of people.
Jonas re-cut a slice with the knife left with the pizza. He handed it to me.
“Don’t we need plates?”
“And where would we put them?”
He was right. The pizza took up the entire table. I leaned over the wooden paddle like everyone else and began the dance of cheese and mouth. The first bite dragged a moan out of my chest. I didn’t think it was possible for something to taste this good, the tang of salt, the spice of sauce, and the cheese, smooth and creamy. I chewed and the crunch of crust gave way to the softness of fresh bread. If only Noah was here, he would have loved this.
I ate the entir
e piece before Jonas had taken three bites.
The boy in the letter jacket was really staring now. Cheeks still bulging with the pizza I’d crammed into my mouth, I pulled more napkins to clean off the sauce dripping from my chin.
“You really were hungry.” Jonas laughed when my face turned red.
“Sorry.” I almost spit crust everywhere. I covered my mouth with a handful of napkins and chewed until I could swallow. “That was rude of me.”
“I’m willing to bet if I’d been eating the food you have for the last several months, I’d be doing the same thing.”
I laid out some of the napkins and cut out another piece. I made sure to collect every bit of the stringy cheese and coil it on top. It burned my fingers but I ignored the pain and sucked the grease from my fingertips. I folded another napkin over the slice and tucked in the edges.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking some back with me.”
“You can eat all you want, there’s no limit, I promise.” He took a bite and chewed. He followed it with a swallow of soda.
“I’m taking it back for Noah. He’ll like this. It’ll be cold, but I think it will still be good.”
Since he said I could have all I wanted, I took another slice and laid it on top of the first. Another couple of napkins and I had a nice white bundle.
“I could have them bring you a box.”
I shrugged. “This is fine.”
“You’ll get grease all over your dress.”
“It’s not my dress.” If it was ruined then they wouldn’t ask me to wear it again. The only reason I’d put it on to begin with was because if I hadn’t, I not only couldn’t go, but I’d lose a privilege. Dr. Chance had moved his checker piece and claimed one of mine. It was my turn now, but I wasn’t sure what move to make yet. I wasn’t going to let him win though. It was clear the stakes were getting higher. First the bra, then the dress. What next?
I pulled another piece free from the pie and ate it. I was able to chew it this time and it tasted even better than the first piece.
JACK Page 14
