by Betty Culley
for five months.
I do the books for the business,
so I saw it.
My brother told me
Clay bought the pickup truck
he had for sale—
paid for it outright.
And before he left the courtroom,
Clay whispered to me,
that whatever happened,
not to worry
about him.
Gwen looks as proud
as if she’s telling me
Clay got into his
first-choice college.
Saving his paychecks
Buying a pickup
Telling Gwen not to worry.
I think she is happiest about
Number Three—
her son cared enough
that he didn’t want her to worry.
It all sounds like a plan.
A plan Clay never talked about
to me.
Did he say anything else?
I ask.
In the courtroom, I mean.
Before he left?
Like where he was going?
Or what he was going to do?
Gwen studies my face.
She puts a finger
on the place
where I fell.
I stand very still,
waiting.
Oh my, yes,
how could I forget.
He told me to tell you
he’s going down the river.
Gwen waits for me
to tell her
what Clay means by
“going down the river.”
If I had to guess,
I’d say it means he’s
moving on,
letting the current
carry him along.
I think it’s her finger gently rubbing
on the place
where it hurts,
like she is trying to erase
the bruise,
that makes me say,
I think it means he’s okay,
that he’s doing what he needs to
right now.
Even if it’s not true,
there’s a good moment
there at the Number 24 mailbox
when we both believe
what I say.
When’s Clay’s birthday?
I ask Gwen,
thinking of my birthday
and Jonah’s.
It was last month,
on the fifth.
Oh,
I say.
Here I am wanting Clay there
for my birthday,
and I missed even saying
happy birthday
to him
on his.
Today I have all the questions
for Gwen.
What color is the truck?
Red, I think,
Gwen says.
Now we both
will have our eyes out
for that color.
Jonah
The day after the trial
I stay home from school.
I tell Mom I’m a little dizzy,
which is half true.
If I stare at the end of my nose
with both eyes,
I do get dizzy.
I’m doing what Mom said she wants
me to do—
“putting my attention
back where it belongs”—
and today it belongs
with Jonah.
I still keep the Jonah calendar
in my head,
but I changed the rules
for Good Day/Bad Day.
It doesn’t matter
how many of Jonah’s machines
lend a hand.
As long as Jonah
doesn’t cry
to be set free,
it’s a good day.
This way,
there’s a much better chance
for a good month.
Jonah’s been sleeping
a lot,
Vivian says,
since he went to the courthouse.
Time to wake up, lazy boy.
I hold on to Jonah’s shoulders
while I bounce the bed,
so we bounce together.
No time off, Jonah,
not when I’m here
and I need your attention.
Jonah opens his eyes.
Thank you, Jonah,
nice to see those
baby blues.
Here Vivian is thinking
she’s not your favorite nurse,
’cause you’re sleeping
through her shift,
I tease him.
Jonah’s eyes move to Vivian,
where she stands by his bed,
filling up Food Truck.
Jah-Nee,
Jonah says,
with a sidelong glance
at Vivian.
Did you say
what I think you said?
Vivian does a very good
fake-hurt face.
Did you say you liked Johnny
better than me?
JAH-NEE,
Jonah repeats,
louder this time,
and laughs in the way
Jonah now laughs.
It’s a cross between
a cough and a gag,
like the laugh is in there,
but it’s hard to get it out.
Vivian and I laugh with him,
and Vivian gives him a hug.
When she does that,
Jonah leans his head
into hers,
and I feel something
very private
pass between them.
The little animal inside me
gets throw-something mad.
Jonah teased Vivian.
All the nurses
love him.
Jonah has this world
without me.
Everything is turned
upside down.
I know it’s wrong
to feel this way
about my brother,
but the animal is hurt
and won’t listen
to reason.
We’re all changing places.
No one is who they’re
supposed to be.
Gwen understands me
better than Mom.
Sara is the one
who gives Rainie
what she needs.
Elinor is Mom’s new
BFF and stand-in family.
Vivian is not just
a nurse
to Jonah.
I know it’s true—
but I don’t like seeing it.
Vivian’s superpower must be
taming wild animals,
because she opens her arms
to include me in the hug.
Then, instead of clawing
at my insides,
the animal lies down
and takes a rest.
When the group hug ends,
Vivian asks me,
Have you seen a ring?
Phoebe lost her mother’s ring.
She asked me about it
this morning.
She thinks she took it off
and left it near the sink
when she washed her hands
the other night.
I looked,
but I couldn’t find it.
It’s a mother’s ring,
if you see it,
gold with birthstones
for each of her three girls.
No, I haven’t,
I say,
but I’ll definitely
keep my eye out
for it.
Rainie, Rainie,
is my first thought,
both of us
with our wild animals.
Birchell
My first day
ba
ck in school
after the trial,
it’s obvious
that’s all everyone’s
been talking about.
Someone asks me,
If your mother wins,
are you going to take Jonah
to Disneyland?
No, I answer,
a trial is not a
Make-A-Wish.
Piper and I
are walking down the hall
when we see four boys
standing together.
Boy Number 1
points a finger at his head
and falls to the floor.
Boys 2, 3, and 4
laugh.
When Boy Number 1 stands up,
Piper charges at him and
knocks him back down.
You think that’s funny?
Jerk!
she yells.
My feet are rooted
to the floor,
watching the boys’ expressions change
when they see me.
Piper pulls on my arm
and turns us
in the other direction.
On line in the cafeteria I hear
Clay’s name.
Yeah, he started working at Brann’s Dairy Farm,
living in a crappy trailer behind the barn,
milking cows and shoveling shit.
When I get home,
I think about telling Gwen
what I heard,
leaving out some of
the language,
but there’s a gun
in our mailbox.
I know it’s not real
since it’s yellow and green,
and Clay said guns
don’t come in colors.
Plus, it’s plastic.
But still, it’s a gun,
and it’s not going to be
my problem.
I slam the mailbox door
and find Mom’s lawyer’s number
on papers in the house.
If he’s hoping to get
one-third
of any money Mom gets,
he can deal with the things
that happen
because of the trial.
Birchell here, he answers.
I didn’t know his first name
was Birchell,
but I recognize his voice.
This is Liv, Jonah’s sister,
and someone put a gun
in our mailbox,
I say.
Oh my God, Liv,
DON’T TOUCH IT,
he yells over the phone.
I’m not STUPID,
I yell back,
plus it’s a toy gun,
you know, yellow and green
plastic.
Does your mother know?
You need to call the police.
They’ll come investigate
the scene.
They may also want to keep
an eye
on the house.
You know what, Birchell,
Mom’s at work,
and the police are not going to
care what
I say.
Do you think
you could come over
and deal with it?
So the gun
is gone
by the time
Mom comes home.
Birchell drives over
wearing jeans and a button-down shirt.
He’s like a centaur,
which we learned in mythology
is half human, half horse.
He is half regular guy,
half lawyer.
Birchell talks to the police
when they arrive.
I stay inside.
I don’t care
who put it there
or why,
but before the police leave,
the mailbox
is empty.
Your mom might think about
getting a post office box,
Birchell suggests,
at least until the trial buzz
blows over.
I brush my bangs to one side
of my see-through-you judge eyes.
I start to tell him that I will take that
under advisement,
but instead my good hand
reaches out and shakes his
lawyer hand.
Thank you, Birchell,
I say,
and I mean it.
Cows
Mom comes home happy.
Guess what,
she says.
People at work
donated their own hours
to make up for my lost days
at the trial.
How was your day
back at school, Liv?
Mom asks me.
My day was great, too,
I say.
Hey, what do you know
about Brann’s Dairy Farm?
I went to school with Bobby Brann.
That farm’s been in his family
for generations.
It’s right on the intervale there
along the river. Such a pretty spot.
Why?
No real reason.
I heard some kids talking about it
at school.
I think Bobby’s gone all organic,
Mom adds.
No one around here can afford
organic milk,
but there’s a market for it
down southern Maine.
This is more conversation
than Mom and I have had
in a long time.
I’m happy too,
that Mom’s coworkers
gave her just what she needed.
I remember passing the place
outside of town,
where black-and-white cows
stand in a green field
that goes down to the river.
Dad said intervale soil
is the best there is—
no rocks at all,
because it comes
from the river floods.
I think
milking cows
and shoveling
cow manure
is better than
killing bugz.
And I’m sure
Clay is learning
three things about
organic cows.
Mom is staring at me
like she’s trying to figure
something out.
The police called me
about the mailbox,
Mom says.
You don’t have to protect me.
I’m your mother.
I’m supposed to protect YOU.
In that case,
I say,
my day really sucked.
Limbo
I hear Mom on the phone
telling Elinor
that she feels like
she’s in limbo
waiting for the judge
to make a decision.
I look up the definition
of the word “limbo.”
It’s a dance, and it also means
“somewhere between
here and there.”
It’s a place
where “nothing is clear or certain.”
It’s also a situation
where “you have to wait
to find out what will
happen next.”
I’m in limbo, too
while we wait
for the verdict.
Letters to the editor
fill a whole page
in the paper.
“A win for the plaintiff
could set a dangerous precedent
for our gun rights. The next thing
we know, the government will be
taking the guns right out of our hands.”
; “The tragic truth is that two boys’ lives
were ruined by the carelessness of
one man. No matter what the decision,
everyone is a loser.”
“In the end, we are all paying for
the care Jonah Carrier will need
for the rest of his life. And I ask the
question, Who is going
to pay for MY care?”
How can anyone know
that Clay’s life
is ruined?
I’m in limbo
watching
for a red truck
that never comes.
Every night,
I wait down at the eddy
alone.
The water is warming up.
It’s light out later and later.
There are frogs croaking
and little minnows hiding
in the shadows of the dock.
Jonah’s eyes are closed
more and more.
The only voice
that will wake him up
every time
is mine.
It’s like he’s in limbo too—
somewhere between
awake and asleep.
Suck-It-Up is being
a very good friend.
Lately, no matter what the time,
he’s by Jonah’s side.
The party is in three days.
The guest list
on the fridge
gets longer
every day.
Dr. Kate is coming
and so is Birchell,
and Hunter and Sara
and all the hippie kids.
I don’t feel
“clear or certain”
whether I should
talk to Rainie
about Phoebe’s ring.
What can I say?
Please ask your animal
to give it back?
I learn that
I don’t like
being in limbo.
Even if it’s bad news,
I want to know
now.
I’m not good
at being “between here
and there.”
Team Meeting
There’s a
Team Meeting
to talk about
Jonah’s big sleeping,
all the
“support”
he’s been needing,
and the crackly sounds
in his chest.
Jess and Lila think
he has his days and nights
mixed up.
Vivian says,
He seems to be . . . ,
and she looks over at Mom,
ah . . . withdrawing a little.
I know the words
she means to say
before she remembers
Mom is there—
“giving up.”
That can’t happen,
because then it would be
just me.
Johnny and Phoebe
don’t say anything.
I think Jonah is bored,
I speak up.
I’d be bored,
doing the same thing every day,
and, no offense,
I love you all, but
seeing the same people.
When Jonah’s O needs stabilize,
we can look into a day program,
Dr. Kate says then,
nodding seriously at Dr. Liv.
There is a stroke-and-head-injury rehab program
