Don’t Let Me Go(65)

She looked both ways in the hallway, as if spies could be lurking around any and every corner. Then she took an unplanned turn, padding along the hallway toward her own apartment and down the stairs.

She opened the door with her key.

The place was dark. Not pitch black, but no lights on. Nothing that felt alive or moving. She found her mom in her bedroom, sprawled on her back in bed, snoring.

She moved closer, first just watching. Then she reached out and tugged at the sleeve of her mom’s shirt.

“Hey,” she said. Quietly, as if in conversation. The way people sometimes say “hey” in place of hello.

Grace’s mom’s eyes flickered open for just a second or two.

“Hey,” she said back.

“You OK?”

“Ummmm. What’re you doing here?”

“Just came to see if you’re OK,” Grace said, something snagging and catching in her throat, nearly gagging her.

Grace’s mom raised a hand, as if waving would be a good way to answer the question. But the hand didn’t stay up long. Didn’t really form into an actual wave, in fact. It just faded, and drooped, and landed on her belly again.

Grace waited, in case there was more, even though she wasn’t sure what more she hoped there might be.

That’s it, she said to herself, but not out loud. That’s all there is. All you’re going to get. You might as well go back to Rayleen’s.

But she didn’t. Not yet.

Instead she stroked her mother’s hair, just three long strokes. Then she leaned in and whispered directly into her mom’s ear.

“Love you, Mom.”

But she must’ve leaned in too close. Her breath on her mom’s ear must’ve tickled, because her mom reached up and swatted at Grace, as if Grace were a mosquito or a fly. Smacked her right on the ear.

“Ow!” she shouted, louder than really necessary, and all out of proportion to how much it hurt. It had been an indignity, one which had hurt her on the inside, and the shout had been a way of letting it move through her.

Then, just as suddenly, it made her cry.

And the crying made her leave, made her run for the door, for the safety of Rayleen’s, as though someone might see her crying if she stayed. Even though she knew, really, that nobody would have noticed. Not even her mom.

She knocked on Rayleen’s door, still rubbing her ear.

Rayleen opened it and let her in. Grace noticed a couple of little lines in Rayleen’s forehead that she didn’t see too often, like Rayleen was holding her face tighter and scrunchier than usual.

“You hungry?” Rayleen asked.

“Kind of.”

“There’s not much. It’s going to have to be peanut butter.”

“Peanut butter’s OK. Do we have any jelly?” Then she regretted her use of the word “we.” Whatever was in Rayleen’s refrigerator really belonged to Rayleen, not to both of them. Probably she’d just been very rude, and right when Rayleen was in a lousy mood, too. “You, I mean. Do you have any jelly?”

Rayleen’s head was still buried in the refrigerator.

“Strawberry jam,” she said.

Unfortunately for Grace, she didn’t say whether they both had it, or if it only belonged to Rayleen.

“Perfect,” Grace said, even though she liked grape jelly much better.

Then, while Rayleen was making the sandwiches, Grace said, “So, what do you think of Jesse?”

Grace heard the bottom of a jar slam down on the counter, startling her, but she didn’t know if it was the peanut butter or the jam.

“You’re going to have to stop this,” Rayleen said, in the voice that had almost made Grace cry earlier, at the meeting, and which almost made her cry again, now. What was it about this day? It seemed that hiding around every corner was something that could jump out and make her cry.

“Stop what? I didn’t do anything!”

“Stop trying to fix me up with a man I don’t even know.”

“I didn’t! I didn’t do anything!” Grace shouted, fighting hard with the tears. “I just asked you what you thought about him. I would’ve asked you the same thing about that other neighbor, the spooky lady, only she didn’t even stay long enough for you to meet her. Geez, Rayleen. I don’t know what you’re all upset about. He just likes you. What’s so terrible about that? I didn’t tell him to like you. He just does. It was all his idea.”

Rayleen set a sandwich on a paper plate in front of Grace, calmly, and without saying anything about anything.

Grace stared at it for a minute, noticing that she had been hungrier back when the sandwich idea first came up.

“Can I take my sandwich over to Billy’s and eat it? It’s nicer over there.”

“You can do anything you want,” Rayleen said, without much feeling.

Grace stopped at the door and looked back at Rayleen, who was washing the knife in the sink. Rayleen didn’t look up or look back at Grace.

“You didn’t used to be this grouchy,” Grace said, congratulating herself on what a brave thing it was to say.

“You didn’t used to get all up in my private stuff,” Rayleen answered, still without looking up. “Could be some connection there.”

? ? ?

“Cats don’t like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” Grace told Mr. Lafferty the Girl Cat.