“Now what d’ya say when somebody gives you what you ask for?”
“Evalene, let’s have some ice cream,” Abigail says.
“Nope. You just had breakfast, and the ice cream’s for after your supper.”
She clenches her jaw and scrunches her eyes at me like a wildcat.
“Mommy said I could have it. She said it before you came here.”
“I don’t think so. She has never once said you could have ice cream durin’ the day, so why would she change her mind now?”
Abigail blows air out through her cheeks, like I’m the most frustrating person on the whole earth. She takes a meager sip of milk, barely a drop, and then she dumps the rest out all over the floor, smiling at me.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Looks like it’s gonna be one a those days.
* * *
I wash up the breakfast dishes and keep a clear view of Abigail out in the backyard on the swing set. The neighbor girl, Patty, has come over with her naked baby dolls, and they talk their little-girl nonsense. This oughta gimme a few minutes peace until they start to fight and I have to go out and separate ’em.
With them still in my view, I reach over for the telephone and dial Anne Marie’s number.
“Hi, Miss Alice, how you doin’? It’s Evalene,” I say into the receiver. She sounds happy to hear from me and asks how my summer’s goin’ and all that. She mentions she saw me in the paper and she’s so proud. I wonder just how long my dumb thirty seconds of fame is gonna last.
“Thank you, ma’am,” I tell her. After that, she puts Anne Marie on the line.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Anne. How are you?”
“All right.”
“Your uncle still botherin’ ya?”
“Huh? Oh that. Nah. I just been ignorin’ him.”
“Good. Good for you,” I say. I’m not exactly sure what to say next, but somethin’ told me I should check up on her today.
“Evvie? You there?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Well, last night when we left the park, you seemed… a li’l bit down or distracted or somethin’. I sure hope we didn’t spoil Juneteenth for ya.” I glance out the window. A game of Mother May I. Patty is twirling in circles at Abigail’s behest. Naturally, Abigail is Mother.
Anne Marie takes a second. She sighs. “I’m fine, Evvie.”
“You sound kinda not fine.”
I hear what I think is a laugh, but I’m not sure.
“Anne? Are you upset? About me and Clay?”
“WHAT?”
“I mean—” Oh shit! Maybe I am way, way off base!
“Why would you say that?” she asks, her voice guarded.
I feel my pulse racing, and my hands shake. I did not expect such an intense reaction. The kitchen table starts vibrating, and the floral centerpiece on top bounces up and down.
“If I’m completely wrong, I’m sorry, and I hope you’re not mad. I just wondered if maybe… you liked him. And you never told me. I just never, ever want a guy to come between us, ya know?” It honestly never crossed my mind that she might like Clay until I noticed her lookin’ sad last night when I left the party.
The vibrating escalates. I reach for the vase, but the phone cord ain’t long enough, and I watch it tip over, spilling water, peonies, and daffodils all over the place.
But then… she starts cracking up. No mistaking this for something else: she is definitely laughin’. Instantly the table stops moving.
“No! I am not interested in Clay. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“Then what is it?”
She clears her throat, which makes me think she’s about to lie.
“Can we talk about it some other time?”
Now she’s scarin’ me. She tells me everything. Why not this? I grab a dish towel to mop up the water on the floor. “Is it somethin’ serious?”
“No…,” she says, but trails off like there’s more to the answer than a simple no. She sighs. “I don’t like Clay like that, Evvie. But I guess I do wonder sometimes what it’s like to be you.”
“Why?”
“Cuz everybody wants you!”
Where did that come from? She’s never said anything like this to me before. “That is not true,” I tell her.
“It is, actually.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I have eyes and I can see with ’em. It’s hard sometimes, cuz it ain’t fair. But it’s not your fault.”
I stop fussin’ with the flower mess and sit on the floor. I feel light-headed. Is this new, or has she always felt like this? I dab my forehead with the wet dish towel. I tend to feel a bit ill when I think I mighta hurt someone’s feelings without meaning to.
“Evvie? You there?”
“Anne? Can you come over here? I’m at the Heywoods’.”
“Why?”
Why? Because you basically just said you’re jealous of me, and I’m afraid you’re ’bout to drop me as a friend!
“I don’t know. Talkin’ on the phone is limited. I wanna see your face.” It’s all I can think to say.
“Maybe. Where is it again?”
I have to pause and swallow. Feels like tears aren’t too far away, and I don’t understand why I keep gettin’ all emotional today.
“Thirty-Five Sutton,” I tell her.
Outside, a gentle breeze blows through the elm leaves. I spy some dandelion dust floatin’ on the air and settling in the pile of dirt where Abigail and Patty were just playing.
Were. Just. Playing. They’re gone.
I drop the phone and race to the back door, throwing it open.
“Abigail? Where y’all at?”
Nothing. A dog barks from somebody’s yard.
“Abigail! Patty! Answer me!”
Nothing.
I run up and down the yard, snaking through the swing set, the sandbox, the seesaw, and around the front with the tacky wooden sheep lawn ornament announcing THE HEYWOODS. They’re nowhere. Nowhere. I run as fast as I can go down Sutton Lane, looking in every yard I see. Down one side and up the other.
“What’s the matter with you, gal?” some old white man watering his grass calls out as I fly by him. They were just there! Where could they’ve gotten to so goddamn fast?
I run right through Patty’s yard, her mama hollerin’ out the back door, leap over the low hedges back into the Heywoods’ backyard, and I look inside. I see a tall, pale figure walking toward the front of the house. There’s a strange man in the house! I wanna turn and run in the opposite direction, but I have to take care of Abigail. I rush in, ignorin’ all the alarm bells screamin’ inside me. But once I get all the way through the kitchen, dinin’ room, and sittin’ room, he’s gone.
“Evalene!”
I jump outta my skin.
“Oh, Christ Jesus!” Abigail and Patty sit on the front hall stairs staring at me all innocent. So cool and calm, as if butter wouldn’t melt in either of their mouths.
“I was scared to DEATH lookin’ for you,” I shriek, shakin’ like a tree caught in a hurricane. “How many times I gotta tell ya not to leave the yard without me?”