Lies We Bury(32)

“Maybe the story should be about something more exciting. Something relevant and universal.” Within this woman’s personal bubble, bravery stark across her excited expression, the smell of onions is thick on her breath. In my peripheral vision, I see her thumb drag along her screen, then press. Recording me.

“What do you suggest?”

“How about . . . a woman fighting for her privacy?”

I grab her phone and throw it as hard as I can across the road, over the chain-link fence and onto the freeway below.

She stares in the direction her phone flew, then snaps back to me. “Do you have any idea how many notes, what kind of files, I had on that? That’s destruction of private property.”

I meet her furious glare with a cool shrug. “Which is about the equivalent of stalking and harassment. Next time, leave me alone.”

Without looking behind me, I walk toward the corner at an easy pace, then turn right and jog to my car, my heart pounding in my ears so thick and fast, I can barely breathe.

I check the rearview, half expecting to see Peugeot running toward me, open handcuffs in his grip, or Serena Delle herself marching closer. Instead, an empty road stares back at me. Hollow relief spreads across my chest, though I know that might change at any second. As I merge onto the freeway, the gloomy cloud coverage rolling in mirrors my unease.





Fourteen





THEN


Twin didn’t sleep the whole hour. She got up and stumbled into the front room and complained that me and Mama Rosemary were doing something important without her. We were but that was beside the point.

But Sweet Lily did—she slept the hour and then some. While we helped Mama Rosemary sort through our things and pack an item for each of us Sweet Lily kept right on in bed barely moving. When I went to check on her she was hot like a fever. I ran and told Mama Rosemary. She said “Shit” and then ran and got a washcloth and wet it under the sink and pressed it to Sweet Lily’s head. She looked so small and just like a doll curled up in the very middle of the bed on the brown spot. The place she came into our family.

Mama Rosemary was upset. She sat by Sweet Lily and started to cry. Big tears fell on her face, made her skin all pink. When she saw me and Twin watching from the doorway she sat up straight. She gasped and ran into the kitchen tripping over the old rug she made from a towel that got blood on it when Twin cut herself falling down the stairs. Noise came from the bin next to the sink that we use as a chair sometimes. Mama Rosemary held up pillboxes and medicine jangling them like toys then throwing them back in the bin.

“Mama, is everything all right?” I asked in a whisper.

She threw both hands down and leaned forward like she might be sick. Her whole body shook and she was crying again. “We were so close. So close,” she kept saying.

I went and put a hand on her back and she didn’t move. “Is Sweet Lily gonna be okay?”

Mama Rosemary turned around. Her face was still wet but she wiped her nose then rubbed her hand on her sleepy pants. The loose ones that are her favorite. She pulled me into a hug on her lap. Twin came over and squeezed in, too.

“Your sister is going to be just fine, girls. It’s her little toe again. Without treatment, her whole body starts to feel sick sometimes. You remember what having an extra toe is called?”

“A congent . . . ?” Twin mumbled.

“Congenital . . . birth defect,” I finished for her.

“Very good. You girls really are like twins sometimes. Not just Irish twins.” Mama Rosemary’s head was above ours and I couldn’t see her but I heard her smile.

We were quiet a long while.

“Mama Rosemary?” I asked. “Are we still doing escape today?”

She sighed and didn’t answer so long I almost asked again. Then she said: “I’m not sure, darling. With your sister sick, it’s going to be much harder to maneuver everyone out safely. I was counting on you all being able to run.”

Twin stood up. She looked at the bed room then back to us and said, “When I’m not feeling good a hug always makes me feel better. Maybe we should go hug Sweet Lily?”

Mama Rosemary’s voice got all heavy again. Like she was sick, too, and I got scared for a second. What if Mama Rosemary got sick and left us? Just like Mama Nora and Mama Bethel? What would we do for food? We couldn’t eat cereal all day. The stuff the man gave us always made me sleepy and happy but gross afterward. But I eat it anyway because it’s sugary and yummy before it makes me feel gross. I eat it and Mama Rosemary says it’s good for us and will make us relax. She calls it Lith-yum. She asked the man for it one day to help us all be calm together.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” she said. We stood up and all crawled into the bed around Sweet Lily. I didn’t want to touch the brown spot but then there was no more room and I did. I didn’t like it but I wanted to be near Sweet Lily. She was hot like she just took a bath and sweating like she just finished exercise hour.

Twin fell back asleep first and her breathing got all patterned and quiet. Then Mama Rosemary fell asleep. Her breath was the same only deeper.

I stayed awake.

I’m still awake.

Everyone has fallen asleep and left me alone and awake. The only one. All by herself.

For a second my toes curl up and I get scared again. What would happen if I was all alone and no one in my family was here with me—if I was in this bed and had both rooms to myself? I wouldn’t like it. I would be so lonely.