All the Little Lights(64)

I watched Elliott wave back at me, waiting until I was safely inside, because he didn’t know my frightening reality. If I told him what I’d gone through and was going through now, he would believe me. If I told him, he would keep me safe, but I wasn’t sure I could do the same for him. The truth would only trap him like it had me. He couldn’t tell; he couldn’t fight it. He would be reduced to watching helplessly on the sidelines, just as he was doing now. Telling him would change nothing.

I opened the door just enough that he’d pull away, feeling sentimental as I watched the Chrysler drive farther down the street. A tear welled up in my eye. I was ignoring the inevitable, selfishly enjoying my time with Elliott while I could. After graduation, he was going to leave me—again—because I couldn’t go with him. Mama didn’t have anyone else. Last time, it was his mom’s fault; this time it would be mine.

As the door opened, I saw Poppy in her favorite dress sitting in the middle of the floor, her face in her hands.

“Poppy?” I said, kneeling beside her. “What is it?”

She looked up at me with wet eyes. “I tried to help today. I tried, and I think I broke the washing machine.”

I took in a deep breath, trying not to panic. “Show me.”

Poppy stood and led me by the hand to the utility room. Suds and water were all over the floor, the machine silent. I reached behind to turn off the water and then peered into the drum. Towels that were once white were now pink, mixed with Mama’s favorite red sweater that was supposed to be washed by hand.

I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Oh my. Well, first things first . . . the mop.”

Poppy scampered off and, within seconds, brought me the mop and a bucket.

“Poppy . . .”

“I know. No more helping.”

“We’ve talked about this. When you’re here, you wait for me.”

Poppy nodded, her finger in her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“So what have you been up to?” I asked, hoping she’d talk while I worked. I put dry towels into laundry baskets and then separated the soaked items.

“How are you going to fix it?” she asked.

“I think,” I grunted, “if I just tighten the hose, it should be okay. I wish Elliott . . .” I trailed off.

“Elliott who?”

I smiled. “Elliott’s a friend.”

Poppy frowned. “The boy with the camera?”

“Yes, from the backyard. I forgot you were there that day.” I stood up and stretched my back. “Now where do you suppose we’ve put the wrench?”

I looked through cabinets in the kitchen and utility room, finally finding the toolbox in the cabinet next to the washing machine. I pulled the washer away from the wall and, after a few turns of the wrench, turned on the water and then the washer, and watched as it filled without leaking all over the floor.

Poppy clapped. “See? You didn’t need Elliott.”

“I guess not,” I said, blowing a strand of hair from my face. “You know what we should do now?”

Poppy shook her head.

I hugged her to me. “We should read Alice in Wonderland.”

Poppy stepped back and bounced up and down, clapping again. “Really?”

“Yes, and then I have to work on a paper.”

“I’ll get the book!” Poppy said, leaving me alone in the utility room.

“Isn’t that paper due on Monday?” Mama asked from the kitchen.

I wiped my brow. “Yes, but . . . I was going to talk to you about Friday night. Elliott has a game. It’s out of town.”

Mama didn’t answer, so I walked around the corner. She looked better than she had the night I’d found her in the basement. She seemed rested, the color back in her cheeks.

“Mama?”

“I heard you. You said you had a paper due Monday.” She was busy putting away dishes, avoiding eye contact.

“I was going to start on it tonight so I’d have it finished in time.”

“What about the rest of your homework?”

“I’ll get it done.”

“What about the Juniper?”

I fidgeted, picking at my fingers until I conjured up the courage. “I’d like Friday night off.”

It took a full minute for Mama to answer. I knew Duke was close, so I hoped she wouldn’t get angry and her yelling would get his attention. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d tried to discipline me for Mama.

“If you just tell me what you need done, I can try to finish it Thursday night. And Friday morning before school.”

She looked away, shaking her head.

“Mama . . .”

“You listen to me, Catherine. I knew that boy was trouble the first time you talked about him. You moped around this house for two years after he left, and now that he’s back, you’ve fallen right back into his claws. He’s using you. The second he graduates, he’ll be out of here, and he won’t look back.”

“That’s not true.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know that he’s asked me to come with him after graduation. He wants to travel, Mama, and he wants me with him. He . . . he loves me.”

She turned her back to me and chuckled, the tittering, scary laugh she had just before she lost her temper. But this time, she was quiet, and that was more frightening than Duke.