A Sky for Us Alone

by Kristin Russell

  I’d never been so thirsty for anything before in my life. I wanted to drink all of her in and hold each drop on my tongue as long as I could. She was stronger than any liquor I’d ever tasted. The more I drank of her, the bolder I became, until my body did all the reaching and my brain had nothing to do with it.

  My fingers hooked her belt loops so tight that they went numb. Our tongues reached for every nerve ending on the other. She bit my lip a little, and it made me so crazy for her that I smiled while kissing her deeper. We fell to our sides, her hair wrapped around both of us and then falling against my face. I rolled her over onto her back and bumped my head on the stake in the middle of the tent. She laughed when I groaned, but neither of us pulled away from each other. The sounds that came from her were the best I’d ever heard—better than when Nate first played Led Zeppelin for me, or when folks used to gather around Mr. Draughn and Charles to hear their tunes.

  My hand slid under her tank, then lightly over the top of her bra. Her eyelashes flicked open against my cheek and she moaned a little, so I moved my hand to her stomach. “No,” she said. “That was good.” She kissed me harder, her fingers running over my face and chest, and her legs tight as a kudzu vine around my waist. I pulled her even closer, hating the clothes that kept the rest of her hidden from me. There was no mistaking that she felt how much I wanted her or how ready I was.

  Then everything stopped and she pushed me away, hard. I looked at her with my mouth open, about to ask what I had done wrong.

  “Shhhhhhh!” she growled before I could speak.

  “What is it?” I whispered. Then I heard it too—Omie’s voice screaming, “Tennessee!”

  She pushed through the tent and almost took the whole thing with her, sprinting toward his cries. We tore the brush down running, legs scraped and burned. Once we reached the trailer, Omie jumped through the window and straight into her arms.

  “Daddy’s real sick,” he said once he caught enough air to speak.

  “Okay. It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine.” She picked him up and then gave me a look over his shoulder that said Help me. I climbed through the window first, closed her bedroom door from the rest of the trailer, and then guided both of them inside.

  Omie pointed to the door. “He’s in the bathroom,” he said.

  Tennessee cradled Omie’s head against her shoulder and nodded to tell me that I should go check on things.

  The bathroom was right across the hall and the door was wide open. Omie must have woken up, needed to go, and then found him. Their daddy lay in a puddle of vomit on the floor, his body still and curled beside the toilet. All of his limbs were crooked and unnatural looking—neck bent and hands splayed; the angle of his leg was all wrong. I remembered what Mama Draughn said about his leg in the mantrip accident and realized the fake one must have come loose when he fell. I stepped over him and fought the spasms in my stomach and the sick coming up my throat. I reached around his neck and felt for a pulse, just as I’d done with Nate, except Mr. Moore still had one, even though it was slow. Something on the side of his face caught my eye, and I covered my mouth and nose so I could lean in to see it better.

  Once I did, the room slanted and I fell against the shower curtain and into the tub. I wondered if Tennessee and Omie heard the commotion. If they had, I knew they’d be even more worried with the sound of things. I stood and looked at Moore’s face again, just to make sure. There was no mistake. The scar ran from his eyebrow to the corner of his mouth where his lip pulled back in a cold smile, even passed out in his own vomit. I felt my throat where he’d squeezed it so hard that day at the gas station.

  Remembering how Nate helped Mama when he found her on the floor out cold, and what I was there to do for Tennessee, I stepped over Moore, and went to find the phone in the kitchen because I didn’t want to take the chance of my cell not working. The phone in my hand, I thought about the hatred I’d seen in his eyes that day, and for one instant, wondered if I should even dial. But knowing how scared Tennessee and Omie were chased all that stuff out of my head, and I called 911. “Yes, ma’am. Baxter Creek off Kinley Road. There’s a deer-crossing sign at the turnoff.”

  After I hung up, I went to their room. Omie lifted his head from Tennessee’s shoulder and peered into my face for an answer. “He’s going to be just fine,” I said. “The doctors are coming.” Tears filled Tennessee’s eyes. I saw more anger than shock on her face, which meant this had happened before.

  The three of us sat on the edge of the bed, and when the sirens came, I said, “Sit tight,” and closed the door behind me again. Two men walked through the front door wearing large square backpacks and carrying a stretcher between them. Red and white lights flashed outside, through the windows. When I pointed to the bathroom, the men went in, and I cleared space for them in the hall. I couldn’t see anything from where I stood other than Mr. Moore’s legs, both the false and real one stretched into the hallway.

  “Give me the Narcan,” one of the men said.

  There were the terrible sounds of pumping and then more vomit. They yelled for me to steer clear of the hallway, so I moved even farther back into the kitchen. The stretcher came toward me with its wheels rolling, and straps holding Moore’s body in place. His eyes were still closed, but he moved his head back and forth and mumbled. I was glad he didn’t see me, and wanted them to leave as fast as they possibly could.

  “It’s a good thing you called. He was almost gone.”

  “What was it?” I asked, to make sure.

  “Pills and alcohol, both. Which hospital?”

  “I don’t know,” I stammered. Just get him out of here.

  “Griggin’s closest. You can call there and check in the morning. Sign here.” I picked up the pen and scribbled where the man pointed. I probably should have gotten Tennessee to do it instead, but figured if Moore had been found somewhere else that another stranger would have done the same.

  They left and I picked up the phone to call Mama. “Are you awake?” I asked when she mumbled into the phone. “I have two friends who need to stay with us.”

  Tennessee had me stay with Omie while she cleaned up the mess in the bathroom. When she came back, she grabbed some clothes from two different drawers and threw them in a black trash bag. We went out to the porch without saying anything, and Widow Hemlock walked over while Tennessee locked the front door.

  “I heard the sirens,” she said. “You children let me know if you ever need anything at all, hear?” She looked too feeble with her cane to walk very far, let alone help anyone, but she stamped the end into the porch a couple of times to let us know she meant it.

  “Thank you,” Tennessee said. “I’m sorry about the noise.” Her voice was embarrassed and tired.

  “I don’t care about the commotion, just the two of you,” Mrs. Hemlock said.

  While I drove us home, I wished I could erase the memory of Moore’s face from my mind. It would only make Tennessee feel worse if I told her about the gas station and what he’d done, like it’d make Mama feel worse if I talked to her about Nate.

  Chapter 20

  “WHAT’S HAPPENED?” MAMA ASKED after I let Tennessee and Omie through the front door.

  “We’ll talk later. Right now everyone’s tired, and they should rest,” I said.

  “Of course,” Mama said, and looked around the room like she didn’t remember what to do with houseguests. “Are you hungry?” She picked up two empty beer cans from the table next to the recliner and carried them to the trash under the sink.

  “No, ma’am,” Tennessee answered for both of them. Omie was so sleepy on her shoulder, I don’t think he heard anything that was said. “Thank you for letting us stay here tonight.”

  “Make yourself at home,” Mama said.

  Tennessee settled Omie into the recliner and he curled into a little ball. She helped me pull the sofa out, and stale cereal and chips fell to the floor while we unfolded the mattress. Mama ran over to the broom closet, embarrassed aga
in for them to see how much she’d let the housekeeping go, but I knew they wouldn’t be thinking about that after everything they’d just seen with their daddy.

  After we got a sheet in place, Tennessee picked up Omie and brought him over to the mattress. He couldn’t seem to get close enough to her. He tightened his grip on her neck, and tucked his head tight over her shoulder. Tears ran down her face and she wiped them fast before he could see them, even though I had. I could hear her quietly saying to him, “I’ll never leave you alone with him again.”

  Mama walked up beside me, tapped my shoulder, and nodded down the hall, meaning that she wanted to talk.

  “I’ll be back,” I told Tennessee.

  The door shut behind us and Mama crossed her arms.

  “I stopped by to see her and we found her daddy passed out on the bathroom floor. Sick from what he’d taken.” I said it matter-of-fact and looked her straight in the eye. She looked down right away.

  “There’s not anyone else to help them?” She crossed her arms.

  “No. They needed me, and I called the medic. You think they did this to themselves? You of all people should know it’s not their fault.”

  “Watch it,” she said. “It’s how much you like her and the thought of them sleeping over that concerns me. We got enough on our plates. What if he’s in the hospital for a long time?”

  “Tennessee will figure it out. It was the right thing to do for tonight, that’s all. They were scared. You know how that feels. Makes it even harder to be alone.”

  “There’s more to consider here,” Mama said. “Don’t act like I’m heartless. Her daddy and yours work together, and Amos—I don’t know. I’m so tired of it all, I can’t keep any of it straight. I just know we don’t need to go asking for trouble.”

  “I’m not asking for it, and they didn’t ask for this either. Have you already forgotten how Mama Draughn took me in when we needed her?”

  She waved her hand in front of her and tightened her robe like she refused to hear anything more. “It’s too late tonight. Go on and get some sleep,” she said. “I’ll make sure they’re all right out there.”

  I lay on the bunk and listened closely for their voices. I knew the last thing Tennessee would want to do was talk about her dad, and I hoped Mama wouldn’t push her into it. They didn’t speak for long, and when I heard Mama’s bedroom door close again, I went out to see them. Omie was already asleep, and Tennessee’s neck was free of his little fingers. She spooned herself around him on the mattress, and I lay down behind her. When she settled her weight against me, I couldn’t help but imagine how good it might feel to have her beside me every night. I reached for her hand and she let me take it.

  “It’s my fault,” she whispered after a couple of minutes.

  “No, it’s not. It’s your daddy’s fault.” I started to feel guilty that I wasn’t telling her all I knew of him. The two impressions he’d given me at the station and then that night in the bathroom left little space for benefit of doubt.

  “I knew better than to leave Omie with him.”

  “Does it happen often?”

  “Once is enough to know better, and it’s been more than that.”

  “Did he seem weird earlier tonight?”

  “I heard him talking on the phone with someone, and he was angry, but that wasn’t unusual. I didn’t see him drink any more than his normal. Definitely not enough to make him pass out.”

  Omie rustled in front of Tennessee, and we both waited until we knew he was asleep again to say anything more.

  “So liquor’s his problem?” I whispered, trying to see how much she knew of his habits.

  “Not only.” She gave me a look that said we both knew more than either of us wanted.

  I nodded. “Started after the mine accident?”

  “Before that, even, but it got a lot worse after.”

  “He ever laid a hand on you or Omie?” I might have been crossing the line by asking that one, but I had to, especially after the way he’d been with me at the gas station.

  “No. But I don’t think my mom was as lucky.”

  I lightly rubbed her arm. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s horrible always wondering when someone might lose control.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m constantly on guard.”

  I smoothed her hair until she fell asleep. Next, I woke to Mama tugging on my hand and the sun bleeding light through the checkered curtains.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Mama’s whisper might as well have been a shout.

  “Shhh.” I swung my feet to the ground. “Don’t wake them.” When I got up, Tennessee stretched and without even opening her eyes, reached for Omie beside her.

  Mama followed me into the kitchen and stood behind me while I made the coffee. “You know it ain’t proper, being in bed with them like that,” she said.

  “When have things ever been proper around here?” I set the coffee filter in the basket.

  “I won’t stand for you sleeping with a girl in my house.”

  “Because why, the neighbors might talk about us? Jesus, Mama.”

  She grabbed my wrist and squeezed it hard enough to make me squint. Her eyes grew big and her jaw quivered like it was wound so tight that it might spring wide open and every thought would come pouring out. “Don’t you talk that way to me. Ever. Understand? You sounded just like your daddy then, you know that? Some things stay sacred whether you believe them or not, Harlowe. This is my house, more than yours or anyone else’s. I’ve served my time for it, and I won’t stand any disrespect from you.”

  I slowly took my hand from her grip. “If you’d seen their daddy last night, you might have a little more sympathy for them.” I took a deep breath and then added, “You might think a little harder about some other things, too.”

  “Don’t draw comparisons. Her daddy’s only part of the reason I’m worried about how close you’re getting to her. Talk with her about staying somewhere else. I’m sure Mrs. Hemlock’s watching everything pretty close, anyway, and she’d be happy to look after them.”

  “But I understand what they’re going through more than anyone.” I could tell from the look on her face that I’d been hitting too near the bone and she wouldn’t take much more of it.

  “Careful,” she said. “One more night. That’s it. And if you get yourself tangled up with a baby the way Jacob did, I won’t be helping you out none. Needed to make sure that was said.”

  “I’m smarter than that,” I said. “Anyway, you always acted like you love little Suzy.”

  She looked at me like I was a horseshit salesman on TV. “I won’t spite any child. That would be hateful. But I’m not gonna pick up after you when you know better than to make a mess of things in the first place. I’m done raising children. When you get married and do it proper, I’ll be as good a grandmama as any. Not now.”

  Chapter 21

  OMIE WANDERED INTO THE kitchen with Tennessee close behind and I wondered how much they had heard. From the look on Tennessee’s face, it was a lot more than I hoped.

  Tennessee rested her hand on Omie’s shoulder and he looked up into her eyes. “We don’t want to cause you any more trouble, Mrs. Compton,” she said. “Maybe it’s best for us to go home and wait until he’s back.”

  “No, sweetie, there’s no need to do that,” Mama said, changing her tune now that she had to say it to Tennessee’s face. “I know things are hard right now and you could use a little help. You two sit down and I’ll find us something to eat.” She took a box of cereal from the cupboard, and I got the milk out of the fridge. I wished we had some eggs I could scramble, but I’d already used the last of them. Daddy was leaving less money than usual since Mama cashed the check, and Mama seemed to be keeping a tight lid on the cash.

  Tennessee poured the cereal into a bowl for Omie, and his eyes brightened when he saw the dark brown flakes fall from the box. It wasn’t Cocoa Puffs or any other expensive brand he’d seen on commercials, but it was cho
colate with a thick coat of sugar, and that was all he needed to make him happy.

  “More!” He jumped up and down in his chair.

  “That’s enough for now.” Tennessee poured the milk for him and then some cereal for herself and passed the box and carton my way. Before she could even finish her second bite, Omie lifted his near-empty bowl to his lips and slurped the leftover milk. Half of it spilled down the front of his shirt, and he set the bowl on the table, looked around at the three of us with a big grin, and said, “Now more?”

  Tennessee turned to Mama before answering him.

  “You can have as much as you like,” Mama said to Omie. “I’ve been meaning to make a trip to the store, anyhow.” She lit a cigarette and drank her black coffee.

  I caught Tennessee’s eye and smiled, hoping she felt a little better than she had last night. Her lips turned up at the corners, but her eyes told me she was plain exhausted, and from a lot more than one night of rough sleep.

  Omie slurped and chewed, his grin almost big enough to make up for the worry on the rest of our faces. It would be nice if something as simple as cereal could always keep us as happy as it did Omie. There was a knock on the door and everyone, except Omie, sat up straight in their chairs and got silent.

  Mama stood from the table, her robe open at the waist and her white slip dipping low against her chest.

  “No.” I stopped her from going any farther. “I’ll get it.” Walking to the door, I hoped Mrs. Hemlock hadn’t done anything crazy like call Child Protection Services. When CPS came in a home, they often split up siblings, like they’d done with the Addison twins, Louisa and Charlie. And since Tennessee was eighteen, but Omie still so young, they could take him from her. I pulled the smoke-stained curtain back an inch from the window and felt relieved when I saw Mama Draughn’s face on the other side.