Baby Blue by Michelle D. Kwasney, Christy Ottaviano (Editor)

• Read an Excerpt

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER FIVE

That night, for the first time in the whole entire year of living at Jinx's house, Bud slept on my bed.

I was lying awake, watching the car lights slide across the ceiling boards when Bud climbed on my chest and stared me down with those glow-in-the-dark eyes of his. Star'd always said cats were psychic, and with the sight of Bud spooking me good, I wasn't doubting it one bit.

It was plenty clear. Bud was sending me a message.

I threw a shirt on over my nightgown, crept downstairs, and slipped out the back door. The grass was damp on my bare feet. The moon hung like a cereal bowl tipped sideways over the black trees. I moved my hand along the chain link fence, feeling my way to the shed.

The shovel leaned on the wall, just inside the door. The handle was rough. Jinx didn't oil it like Pa used to. Its wide, dry cracks pressed on my hands, and my heel ached, straining against the cold metal. I jabbed the hard ground. A sliver shot into my palm. I licked the wet off my upper lip. Again, I plunged. Hit rock. Another sliver. A hot pain raged the length of my thumb. I dug and dug till the hole was deep enough.

Miller was cool in my warm arms. He didn't lop over anymore. I lowered him into the hole. The moon glimmered on his short gray fur, making it look silver.

"You'll be okay here," I told him, covering him up with the shirt I'd grabbed. "I'll keep an eye on Bud. Don't you worry about that." I filled his grave with dirt, patting it flat, leaving my hand there while I finished what I had to say. "And don't pay any mind to what Jinx said, either--about crazy animals coming after you. He would say that, wouldn't he? Takes oneto know one."

I put the shovel back and closed the shed. I made a little cross out of sticks, shoved it into the loose earth, and went back inside.

Bud was still on my bed, waiting for a report.

"It's taken care of," I whispered. "Your brother's in his resting place. A decent resting place."

Bud settled down next to me, just like he understood. I scratched his head till a thick purr rattled deep in his throat, and we both fell back to sleep.

***

The phone woke me up. I could hear Jinx answer it in his and Mama's room. "Yeah? Who's this?"

I checked the clock. Twenty after five. It was just getting light out.

"Goddamnit, who is this?" Jinx yelled, losing what little patience he had. He slammed the phone down hard--right after he got done telling whoever it was to go straight to hell and stay there.

It happened again around six. Ring, ring. Go to hell. Slam.

I couldn't go back to sleep. Bud followed close while I went down to pee, then he trailed me into the kitchen.

Mama was sitting in the dim morning light. She had Jinx's robe on. It brought his smell into the room along with her.

"Morning, Blue."

"Morning, Mama." I poured myself a tall glass of apple juice and sat across from her. "Couldn't sleep?" I caught a look at my feet, plastered with dried mud, and curled them behind the cold metal chair rungs.

"No. Neither could Lyle. He's just now dozing some. He kept dreaming about that dead cat. He'd go to sleep, have a nightmare, go to sleep, have a nightmare. . . ." She sipped her coffee. "Poor Lyle."

"Poor Miller," I added, not wanting her to forget it was him, after all, who got his brains smashed out. "And poor Bud, too, getting left all alone like that."

Bud rubbed against my shin like he'd heard me. I reached under the table, digging his small, hard head with my stubby nails. I felt a bump near his ear. I hoped it wasn't a tick.

The sun squeezed in through the blinds over the sink, spilling long, dark stripes across the plastic tablecloth.

Mama'd propped a fancy, peach-colored envelope against the bowl of fake fruit. LYLE, it said, in big black letters. His name was underlined six or seven times, and little hearts were drawn all around it, except none of their tops connected, so they looked more like Vs with their loopy ends caving into the middle. Mama always said she couldn't draw to save her soul, and looking at those hearts, I was inclined to believe her.

"What's the card for?" I asked.

The steam from her coffee rose up. She reminded me of the Wizard of Oz, with her face looming in the vapor.

"It's for Lyle," she said.

"Mama, I know who it's for. It says so right there. L-Y-L-E. Swimming in a sea of hearts. At least, I think they're hearts."

Mama leaned forward. Her shadow shifted, sprawling across the thin, dark table stripes. It looked like she was in prison. "Yes, Blue. They're hearts. And you don't have to get all snippy-sounding."

The air was close. I peeled my arms off the tablecloth, sure some of my skin was going to stick there when I did. "So," I asked, "what's the special occasion?"

Mama touched the edge of the envelope. "It's our first wedding anniversary. June nineteenth. Remember?"

I couldn't forget if I wanted to. My mind flashed a picture of the reception: Jinx dancing Mama across the dirty wood floor of Duffy's Tavern, peanut shells crunching below their feet while Star and me pumped coins in the jukebox and ate pickled kielbasa off the bar till our tongues felt like they'd been pickled, too. We weren't saying one word about the wedding. Almost like it hadn't happened.

I felt Mama's eyes on me, waiting for me to say something. Like congratulations, maybe.

I lucked out. The phone rang.

Mama dove at it, not wanting to disturb Jinx. "Hello?"

A long thread hung off the robe, trailing her like a tail. "Hello?" She waited. "Look, whoever you are, please don't call back again unless you've got something to say." Mama set the phone down soft. Her shadow slid back behind the jail bars. "That happened earlier. Twice."

"I know," I said. "I heard it." A rip in the chair pad pinched my thigh, but Bud was asleep on my foot, so I tried not to move. "You working today?"

"Not today. Beau switched the schedule for me." Mama grinned. "Lyle planned a little surprise for our anniversary."

"A surprise? Like what?"

"Lyle's taking me on a trip."

"A trip? What kind of trip?"

Jinx never took Mama anywhere. Unless you count the time before Star left when the four of us drove to Albany, New York, to pick up a load of Canadian cheese Jinx's foreman sent him after. Mama had a picture hanging in the living room that Jinx took of her and Star and me in front of the state capital building. Right after, we had lunch--hot dogs a vendor was selling nearby. Star asked for sauerkraut, something she never should've done because of it not agreeing with her. She threw up the whole way home. Out the window, down the highway, all along Interstate 90.

Mama pulled a newspaper clipping out of Jinx's robe pocket. "'Get away from it all in sunny South Yarmouth,'" she read. "'Clean, spacious, air-conditioned accommodations. Free phone and cable TV in every room. Private balcony overlooking the majestic beaches of Cape Cod.'" Mama handed me the ad. "Pretty nice, huh?"

I knew this was my cue to start gushing about how wonderful it sounded. "Yeah," I said. "Terrific." But my voice was as flat and colorless as the ad. I folded it once, sticking it between the two plastic bananas.

Mama didn't exactly hide her disappointment. I felt guilty. Not just 'cause I didn't gush and fuss, but 'cause I really couldn't find it in myself to be happy for her.

Mama leaned forward to touch my hand. "This is important to me, Blue. I know Lyle and I have had our share of troubles, but this is a chance for us to wipe the slate clean, to start over." She gave my hand a pat, then sat back, cross-legged.

I felt a chip on the edge of my juice glass. I ran my finger across it till my skin snagged. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning. Saturday."

Her answer kicked the air out of my lungs. "Tomorrow? But that's so soon!"

Mama poured more coffee. "That's exactly what I said--'Lyle, my goodness, there's barely time for me to pack!'"

My fingers felt rubbery. I pressed them against the glass's raw edge.

Pa was the first to leave. Then Star. Now Mama.

I pressed harder. The pain gave me something to concentrate on while my mind spun. Quick, dizzy circles like we danced in our last night with Pa. "But, Mama," I started. "You never went off and left me before. What if something happens?"

"Oh, Blue. . . ." Mama scruffed my hair like I was some stupid two-year-old. "Nothing's going to happen."

n0 I pulled away, smoothing my bangs back. I was about to say "Promise?" when I caught myself. Talk about two-year-olds. "When are you coming back?" I asked instead.

"Sunday night. Beau and Aggie said you can sleep at their place tomorrow."

I pictured myself curled up on the dark, itchy sofa in the skinny tin living room of Beau and Aggie's mobile home, all nine of their cats perched on the high back glaring down at me. Eighteen glow-in-the-dark eyes sending me a psychic message--that Mama'd disappeared. I saw myself sinking. Buried in a grave of broken springs and smelly cat pee.

"C--Can I stay here instead?" I asked. "I mean, I'll be thirteen in two weeks."

"Three."

"Yeah, well, three. Still, can I?"

I pushed my finger down harder on the glass's chipped edge, on that tiny little V. A bright red drop of blood trickled down the length of my finger, landing in the valley of skin connecting it to my thumb. Mama didn't notice. "Tell you what," she said, patting my shoulder, walking past. "I'll talk it over with Lyle."

CHAPTER SIX

I made a marker for Miller's grave by cutting up one of Jinx's beer cartons and taping the word Miller to a Styrofoam tray I found in the kitchen pail. I sat beside it, eating a cherry Popsicle, reading an article on adoption in one of Mama's magazines. Just in case Mama vanished like Pa and Star, and Beau and Aggie decided to take pity on me and call me their own. I got a chill clear through me when I realized what my new name would be: Blue Silver.

On the way back to the house, I noticed a fallen bird's nest leaning against the tire of my rusty bike. It made me think of a time when I was little, riding on Pa's shoulders, and spotted a nest wedged in the crook of our peach tree. Pa stepped close so I could see inside.

"Where's Mama?" I gasped, pointing at the lonely blue eggs.

Mama, not knowing I was asking about the bird, hurried over. "Mama's right here," she said, lifting me off Pa's shoulders, hugging me to her.

Mama was running the vacuum when I came in. She had the kitchen table loaded with stuff for the trip--suntan oil, sunglasses, two new tube tops, a paperback novel, a wide-brimmed straw hat, Pa's binoculars, a bottle of peach nail polish, and two pairs of neon yellow flip-flops, size eight and size twelve, with the price tags still on them.

I poured some apple juice. Bud ran over and mashed his face against my ankles.

Mama pulled the plug on the vacuum. "Looks like you've got yourself a new friend."

I shrugged and sat down, fiddling with the strap on Pa's binoculars. The magazine slipped off my knee, scaring Bud away. I stared down at the page it'd fallen open to. Some fancy-schmancy hotel ad. A man and a woman were walking on the beach at sunset. The ocean lapped at their bare feet. The sun was a huge golden ball, ready to roll them down like bowling pins.

Mama snipped the plastic string on the flip-flops. "Hey, Miss Smarty Pants, what's that you're reading?"

I stared at the woman in the picture, holding my big toe over the spot where her hand held his.

Leave, lady. Leave while you've got the chance.

"Nothing," I said, and picked it up.

Mama sat across from me. She shook her nail polish and undid the top. The smell made my apple juice taste funny. I watched her brush on the polish--exactly the opposite of how Star did it--starting with her baby toe, working her way up. "So, Blue, what would you like me to bring you?"

"Huh?"

"You know, from Cape Cod. For a souvenir."

I flipped the page. Betsy Sanders from Jackson Hole, Wyoming, shares her secret bran muffin recipe. "Eating plenty of fiber helps my busy corporate executive husband avoid constipation," Betsy began.

"How about a stuffed animal? Or a T-shirt? What size are you now?" Mama's eyes dropped to my chest, to the two small bumps she hadn't mentioned noticing. "Ladies small? Medium?"

She stared, waiting for my answer. I felt my throat close. "Medium's good," I croaked, then started coughing.

Mama's toenails glistened like a row of shiny shells. "Drink some juice," she said, sliding my glass closer. "That always helps me."

***

Mama and Jinx had enough stuff packed in the back of that old black pickup truck to run off for good. I tried not to see it as an omen.

cf0Jinx's cooler went in last. I watched from the window as he informed Mama that Miller was the only beer in the world he'd ever drink again, as a tribute to his dear departed cat.

Jinx tied a tarp over the top.

Mama clumped toward the house. (She always did walk funny in heels.) She was wearing an ugly green dress Jinx had bought her, just a tad darker than her Smile Pretty Dress. Jinx was big on lime-green. Star claims it's because of him being composed of 100 percent pure bile himself.

Mama opened the fridge door and popped the top on a Pepsi Light. "Come on over here, Blue." She waved her arm like Carol Merill on Let's Make a Deal, showing off the prizes behind Door Number Three. She pointed to an unopened carton of chocolate milk, then held up a brown box from Jinx's cheese factory, containing one dozen packages of individually wrapped string cheese. My favorite. "Lyle got this for you all by himself," she said. "I didn't even ask him to. That was thoughtful, wasn't it?"

I was so relieved about Mama and him not making me stay with Beau and Aggie, I'd have agreed to Jinx being named president of the United States. "Yeah, Mama."

She opened the freezer next. A burst of frosty gray air tumbled out. "I bought you two TV dinners. One for tonight, one for tomorrow night. I picked the kinds you like, the ones with desserts." She smiled. I smiled back. The final items on the food tour were a box of day-old doughnuts, two cans of ravioli, and a bag of cheese curls for a TV snack.

"I'll call you tonight," she said, standing in the doorway. "Right after we get settled in. Now, lock up behind me. Don't let anybody in. There's extra litter for Bud under the sink and--oh-don't forget to pull the blinds when the sun goes down. Leave a couple lights on downstairs when you go up to bed. And if you need anything--"

"I know, I know. Call Beau and Aggie."

"Right." Mama kissed my forehead. I let the damp spot sit there instead of wiping it away, even though it tickled. "You be careful," she said. "You be careful, Baby Blue."

Her calling me that gave me the same fat lump in my throat it always did. I crossed my arms over my chest to keep my heart from leaping out right there in front of her. "I will," I said. "You be careful, too."

I watched from the window while Mama walked around the side of the house to the driveway, where Jinx waited in the truck.

I pressed my nose on the window screen. "Psssst . . . Mama . . . I forgot to tell you something."

Mama's heels scrubbed the driveway as she wobbled toward the window. "What is it, Blue?"

"Guess what I did."

"What do you mean, 'Guess what I did'?"

"The night before last. While you were sleeping. Guess what I did."

Mama looked over her shoulder at Jinx--sitting up high in his truck, puffing on a cigarette--then back at me. "Blue, is this some kind of--"

"I buried Miller. Out back."

Mama squinted through the screen at me. "You what?"

"I buried Miller. You know, Miller the cat--?"

"I know who Miller is. Was. I mean, why? Why'd you bury him?"

"'Cause, Mama, he was dead."

"That's not what I mean."

"He deserved better, Mama." I swallowed hard. "You shouldn't say you love something one minute then lay it out like trash the next."

Mama was silent for a long moment. "How'd I ever get so lucky?" she said softly.

"Huh?"

"Getting a daughter like you. You're sensitive and talented and smart and--"

I knew pretty wasn't coming next. Pa used to call Star and me "Beauty and the Brains." You can guess which one I was. "Thanks," I said.

". . . And pretty."

"Oh, Mama, I am not." I was blushing up a storm.

"You are too. It's just hard for you to see right now. You're at that age. Everything's trying to catch up with everything else. But, you'll see. One day you'll wake up and find yourself smiling at your own reflection. And it won't be just prettiness you'll see in that mirror either, because you've got what it takes on the inside to make the outside truly shine." She sighed, picking at a rip in the screen mesh.

"Mama?"

"There's so much I admire about you, Blue." Her finger slipped through the hole. She pulled it back, smoothing the wiry threads into place. "Your sister, too. I should have told her that more before she--"

"You'll get the chance," I interrupted. I wasn't sure I believed it.

Mama's eyes were glassy-looking. "I do hope so."

I said it again. "You'll get the chance." Maybe I did believe it.

Mama forced a smile.

Jinx clicked on the radio in his truck. A song began, and he cranked it up, tapping out the rhythm on his steering wheel.

"I'd better go," Mama said.

I felt guilty wishing what I did--that she'd change her mind and stay--but I wished for it anyway.

Mama put a kiss on her finger and brought it to the screen, pressing till the mesh gave. I touched my finger to hers. She kept it there a second, then let go. Her heels scraped back toward the truck.

I looked away till I heard the door close.

Mama hung her head out the window, waving.

Jinx backed out.

The breeze lifted Mama's hair back, tossing it around like pale wheat under clear skies.

I memorized her just that way. Smiling. Waving. Leaving kisses on the window for me. I memorized every detail of my mama, Cecilia Hanson Thorn. Every last detail.

Just in case.

Copyright © 2004 Michelle D. Kwasney