Don’t Let Me Go(25)

During all this, Grace’s mom called a second time, sounding even madder.

By the time she waddled out into the hall, to a spot where her mother could see her, she’d launched into the process of chewing the eggroll she’d been holding in her mouth, which made it hard to have a conversation.

“There you are,” her mom said. “Come home now.”

Her mom’s hair looked rumpled up, the way Grace’s had until just recently. She had dark circles under her eyes. She looked bad. But, of course, Grace didn’t say so. Wouldn’t have, even if she could’ve talked properly.

Some things you just don’t say.

“Can’t,” she said, but it just came out as a big noise, too rounded at the edges of the sounds.

“What did you say?”

Grace pointed at her mouth with the other eggroll, asking in pantomime for her mom to wait while she chewed.

“What are you eating?” her mom asked, not quite taking the pantomime hint, or maybe just pretending she didn’t.

Grace pointed and chewed a while longer, then said, “Eggroll. Which is not junk food.”

“Come home now.”

“Can’t. I’m eating eggrolls. And getting a footicure.”

“Pedicure. Who’s giving you eggrolls and a pedicure?”

“Rayleen. You know. My babysitter.”

“Right. Rayleen. She knows I’m not actually paying her to be your babysitter, right?”

“I don’t know. I think so. I’ll ask. But I gotta go now.”

“But I want you home. I had no idea where you were.”

Grace placed both hands firmly on her hips. Even the hand with the eggroll.

“Mom. You haven’t known where I am for days and days. It’s really more like you didn’t even wonder till just now. I don’t see why I have to give up my eggrolls and my foot manicure just because you finally woke up and figured out about how you don’t know where I am.”

“I was asking where you were just yesterday.”

“Yeah, but then you were asleep about a minute later, before I could even come tell you.”

These were all brave things to say, and Grace knew it. They came from some mad place, some leftover bad stuff. They were bundles of words wrapped around criticism, and a few hurt feelings.

She waited to see what her mom would do. In the old days, her mom would’ve gotten mad. That’s all Grace knew for sure.

“OK, fine,” Grace’s mom said, “but when you’re done eating and…well, when you’re done, come right home.”

“K,” Grace said, and stuck the other eggroll in her mouth.

Then she waddled inside and slid back up on to the chair so Rayleen could work on her toenails some more. (Even though the only part left was checking the polish for dryness and taking the cotton out from between Grace’s toes.)

When she’d finished chewing, Grace said, “Do you think I was too snotty to my mom?”

And Rayleen said, “No. Frankly, I don’t. I think you were perfect. Just exactly snotty enough.”

? ? ?

Grace padded, barefoot, shoes in her hand, down the basement stairs, looking forward to the idea of spending some time with her mom. For a change. She tried the door to her own apartment, but it was locked.

She knocked loudly, and called through the door, “It’s me, Mom. Let me in, OK?”

The door swung wide, and Grace’s mom stood in the open doorway, her mouth gaping open, jaw hanging.

“Oh, my God!” her mom whispered on an exhale of breath. “Grace Eileen Ferguson, what have you done to your hair? Did you cut it all off with scissors?”

Grace tried to answer, but never got that far. Her mom took Grace’s chin in her hand and pushed her head sideways, first one direction and then another, looking at the haircut from all different angles.

“No. You didn’t. You couldn’t have. This is a professional haircut. This looks like a real haircut. An expensive one. Who cut your hair?”

“Bella,” she said, yanking her chin back.

“And who’s Bella?”

“A friend of Rayleen’s, at the salon where she works. Why? Don’t you like it? Everybody else likes it.”

Grace’s mom never answered. Instead she took Grace by the hand and marched upstairs and down the hall with her.

While they were marching, Grace said, “You saw me already. Just before. You saw me standing out in the hall eating eggrolls with cotton between my toes. Why didn’t you say about my hair then?”

“I didn’t see it.”

“I was standing right in front of you!”

“You were way down the hall. I thought you just had it pulled back in a ponytail or something.”

“Don’t you like it? Everybody else likes it.”

They stopped marching in front of Rayleen’s door. Grace’s mom banged hard on the door, so hard it sounded like somebody trying to beat down the door with a battering ram, like the police did on TV.

Out of the corner of her eye, Grace saw Billy’s door open an inch or two, and she could see one of his eyes through the crack. She waved at him, but he put a finger to his lips, and Grace knew what he meant by that, so she started pretending she didn’t see him there at all.

Rayleen opened the door, and, when she saw who was knocking, stood with her hands on her hips, like she was getting ready to fight with everything except her fists.