Pew(32)

It’s all a bunch of horseshit, someone said. Excuse me, but I’m the only one old enough to say it like it is, to spell it out—but we all know it’s true. It’s horseshit. This is about public health! And we all know what you’re implying and we all know it’s horseshit.
Strong opinions there. Harold stood again and took a kind of control of the room. But let’s table that one for now and move on to other concerns. Do we have any other concerns at the moment?
Kitty raised her hand.
Mrs. Goodson, do you have an idea?
She stood, taking her time, comfortable in the gaze of her guests.
Now, as I understand it, Pew did some drawings with Roger Smith that might be revealing about where Pew came from and what we can do to help Pew. I know that his work with my adopted son, Nelson, who is a childhood refugee and orphan of a horrific war—well, his work with Nelson was very helpful. Maybe we can have some experts analyze the drawings that Pew made with Roger.
A fine idea, Mrs. Goodson, Harold said. Hilda, make sure you write that one down. And, Kitty, I would just like to say that we’re all very moved by you taking that poor child into your home. Could there be anything more Christian than that?
Everyone in the room applauded, and as they applauded, Mrs. Goodson turned to smile at each person in the room, waving at everyone with one hand, then the other.
A woman with raised eyebrows stood. I have something I’d like to tell the group.
Go on, Mrs. Robertson, Harold said.
Now I was just sitting here talking to Minnie Sims about Pew and I must tell y’all, we have some real disagreements about what … Pew looks like. I mean, to me, it’s so obviously a girl and definitely not white, I’d say about thirteen or fourteen years old, but Minnie, she is convinced that Pew’s a boy and white and at least fifteen!
More white than not white is what I said, Minnie clarified.
But you can see how drastic our difference of opinion is, the standing woman said, her eyebrows arched high on her forehead. It’s almost like we’re looking at two different people! And I don’t feel comfortable letting Pew be around other teens—you know—if we don’t even know if they’re this way or that. Does everyone else have such different ideas about what Pew looks like?
A burst of voices, raised hands. Harold tried to conduct them with a little knife against a glass, then with a fork against a ceramic plate, then by shouting.
A voice from the back cut through the noise—We ought to have Pew baptized—and the room quieted around that suggestion.
Oh, yes, Harold said. We should take care of that this Sunday. A very important point. Thank you for bringing it up, Bill.
No sweat, Bill said.
In the meantime, I think perhaps we’ll have a short break, freshen up our plates and coffees? Everyone began to stand and their voices grew into a low rumble. Marlena Dean made her famous pimento cheese, so don’t miss that.
There’s pie on the side table in the dining room, Kitty said to the room.
Yes, there’s pie, Harold repeated.



THE WOMAN IN THE WHITE APRON was washing dishes as Kitty led me into the kitchen.
Maria, if you could just keep an eye on Pew for the next—I don’t know—might take an hour. Just take Pew back to the den, please, if you don’t mind—the walls are thin up here and I don’t want the discussion to bother, uh—to bother anyone.
In the den, yes, no problem. Maria dried her hands on a towel and came toward me, chewing at one corner of her lip.
A girl appeared at the back door’s window, looked at me carefully, then opened it slowly and came inside.
Annie, what on earth!
Why are there all these cars here?
Why aren’t you in school?
Are y’all meeting about the Forgiveness Festival?
It’s not particularly your business what it’s about, when I haven’t any idea about why you’re not in school.
Annie put her backpack on the floor and took a cube of cheese from a ravaged platter. Kitty held her open palm under her daughter’s face—Spit it. Annie puckered her lips and slowly pushed out a half-gnawed cube of cheese. Maria immediately removed the waste from Kitty’s hand and wiped it clean.
I clearly don’t have time for this, Annie. There’s company and I’m expected back in there at this very moment.
Annie looked to me, back at her mother.
You remember Pew from dinner on Monday, don’t you? The Bonners’ guest?
Annie looked at me again. A half smile passed over her face.
Don’t be rude, Annie. Say hello.
Hello.
Maria was just taking Pew back to the den, so I want you to go immediately to your room and do your homework until I come get you, do you understand?
Fine. Annie left through one door as Maria took me through another.



I HAD BEEN SITTING on the edge of a bathtub for some time when there was a knock at the door. Ah, Pew? You need something? Maria’s voice.
I hadn’t heard her footsteps so she must have followed me, must have been sitting at the door the whole time.
Knock once to say you’re OK?
A long silence.
Just let me know.
I picked up a bar of soap and threw it at the door. It fell to the tiles, dented.
OK. I’ll leave you alone. Come check later. Her footsteps pattered, faded.
I lowered myself into the empty tub, felt the cool porcelain slowly warm. Elsewhere in the house there were voices overlapping, laughing, a clang in the kitchen, then a sound came closer—something just behind the wall.
A vent in the corner popped off and a thin leg appeared, then another leg, then Annie slid out onto the bathroom floor, at first looking surprised to see me, then seeming steely and defiant.