Chapter 9
Petey held on to her booksack as the bus popped to a stop. Bus-Driver Bill said, “Get along little doggies!” Hill wasn’t on the bus, so she was the only doggie. The little blonde-haired kid’s momma had picked up him and Hill straight from school to take them for ice cream.
As Petey stepped off the last step of the bus, she felt someone close behind her. With her feet on the grass, she looked up at Mary stepping off behind her. Mary was grinning, her eyes bright as if she had lights lit up inside her brain.
“My mom said I could come to your house!”
Petey said, “Oh,” and didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t want to be rude but she’d not invited Mary to her house.
“I can’t wait to see where you live, maybe you can come to my house next; I live about, let’s see, twenty or thirty minutes from here; I watch you get off the bus every day and think how I should just get off the bus with you and then one day I thought well why not and then I asked my mom and she said let me think about it and then she thought about it and said it was okay as long as she could come get me after two hours at the most and I said two hours only? and she said I shouldn’t overstay my welcome and she asked if I could get your mom to make her a blueberry pie and a carrot cake and she’d pay her and even gave me some money . . .”
Petey walked faster to get away from all the words swirling around her face like gnats, but Mary only walked faster, too, swinging her arms, hitting Petey’s arm every so often. Then she linked her arm around Petey’s arm. Petey didn’t know what to think about that. It made her walk funny, trying to keep in step with Mary until finally she pretended to see a rock she wanted and bent to pick it up. Mary let go her arm then and watched her as she put the rock into her pocket.
“Oh! You like rocks! I will find you rocks then. All kinds. Whenever I go somewhere I’ll look at a rock and think; would Petey like this rock? And if I think you will, I’ll pick it up and give it to you.”
Mary’s shoes slapped on the road and as they turned into the driveway, Petey felt weird. What if Mary thought her half-house was ugly, even with all the repairs and paint and other new things? Daddy had painted the whole house on the outside the same blue with white trim and it looked so much better. He’d fixed the carport best he could, and cleaned off the rust on the stairs and painted the stairs black, to boot. Daddy fixed the yard better, and Momma’s garden would make vegetables and herbs and flowers and fruit. Petey never would have thought Momma could make things grow in that dirt yard, but she had and would.
“. . . and just think summer vacation is almost here and I can’t wait to go swimming; hey you want to go swimming with me?; we go to the community swimming pool and they have hot dogs and cotton candy and Cokes and all kinds of things . . .”
Petey couldn’t believe they’d been in Fort Worth almost a year. The day they’d left North Carolina, Petey had thought somehow they’d find their way back way before a year had passed, and it looked like more than a year would pass again. She’d been drinking Anna’s tea. Her relaxing spot, as she’d thought it’d be, was in Momma’s butterfly garden, with the bench Momma had put there to sit on and look at her flowers and the butterflies and bees and birds that flittered about. The tea did help Petey. Some.
“. . . and that dog slipped up and nipped me right on my leg and we thought he was mean until it turns out I had peanut butter on my leg and the dog was trying to get to the peanut butter; have you ever heard such a thing as that . . .hey! we’re at y’all’s house!”
“Yep. This is where I live.”
“This is a huge house; my house isn’t near this big and I thought I did have a big house, but Mom says she won’t clean a bigger house she has enough to do with five kids and two dogs and a cat and a hamster and two mouses and two guinea pigs and I want a pig but Mom says there is no way! but this house isn’t too too big don’t get me wrong and I love it!”
“Well, it’s not all my house. We live in the upstairs half and Anna lives in the downstairs half.”
“Wow! That’s really something. I’ve never been inside houses that are cut in two houses; what an idea, I am intrigued.” Mary was practically skimming the air as they walked up to the half-houses. “And look at the pretty flower garden! And look at that! Is that tomatoes? Oh! I love fresh tomatoes! You live in the best place ever! You are so lucky to be back here and not all crowded up with other people; Dad says he could fart and the neighbors hear him and that’s gross but I wonder if it’s true, but y’all don’t have to worry about that!”
Petey began to see things through Mary’s eyes. And things were even better than they were before.
“Where’s your brother? You have the cutest brother, I don’t care what people say, they are just mean and don’t know better.”
“He’s with his friend having ice cream.”
“Oh! Did you know that blonde-haired kid was left on a church doorstep?”
“What? . . . He what?”
“Yeah. His parents didn’t want him, I guess, or couldn’t take care of him. Mom said he was scrawny and sick from not being fed right or whatever. They left a note and said to find him a good home. So the church took the baby in and then he went to an orphanage for a while but not long and the Tylers adopted him, but he sure seems happy about it.”
“Left on a doorstep.” Petey shook her head.
“No, it’s good. He’s happy as a little ocean clam, always grinning his fool head off and running around and all. The Tylers take good care of him and Mom said he’s healthy and happy. And now he’s got a good friend.” Mary said to Petey, “Good friends are hard to find and best to keep.”
Petey said, “Come on and I’ll show you my room.”
They clanged up the steps, and Petey could smell the sweet before they reached the door. The sweet was always there, even when Momma wasn’t cooking. The sugar and sweet had seeped into the floors, into the cracks and corners, into the paint, into the curtains, into the chairs’ upholstery, into their clothes, their hair. Everyone and everything smelled like sugar and sweet.
Mary said, as if reading Petey’s mind, “The house smells like you, like vanilla and sugar. Ummm!” She ogled the pies and cakes and sweet rolls on the counter. “Oh, here’s my mom’s note for your mom. Where is she? How did she learn to cook stuff like she does? Everybody talks about it. They think she’s some kind of wonder of the world or something.”
“She’s probably taking a dance lesson with Anna.”
“Dance lessons! Wow! She dances, too? Oh! Your mom is in-tree-ging. And who’s Anna? You said something about her earlier.”
Petey explained about Anna. How she was a part of their family. How Momma and Daddy went dancing sometimes after Anna had taught them some fancy dance steps. She didn’t tell Mary about when she had caught her parents dancing slow to the record player in the living room, and how seeing them dance like that, as if there was no one else in the entire universe but them two, made Petey’s heart squeeze with love.
Mary said, “I like your house. It’s pretty on the inside, too. I am so glad you invited me.” Of course, Petey didn’t tell her she hadn’t invited her. They made their way to Petey’s room, and Mary said, “Oh! Look at this! And look at the Zebra! And is this part your room? I love it! So intriguing.”
Daddy had fashioned a kind of wall between the two rooms, one that slid on rollers so they could open or close it. Petey kept it closed most all the time, unless Hill had a bad dream or they wanted to play together. She still had to walk through the door and then turn right to go into her part of the room. When anyone first walked through the door, they could see Hill’s part and her part all at once and had to turn right or left according to which room they were going in.
Daddy had said he couldn’t build a real wall because it wasn’t their house. He said the landlord gave them a break on rent for all the other wor
k he’d done, though. Then Daddy had said, “Besides, it’s not like we’re staying here forever.”
Petey didn’t ask where they’d go.
Mary asked, “Petey? I asked you where you got that bed? I love it!” Every time Mary said, “I love it!” she threw up her hands in a way that made Petey want to laugh.
“I got that for my birthday. I like it, too.” She touched the white iron bed. Her twelfth birthday had been fun, but she right then thought how it would have been much more fun with Mary there jumping up on her toes and saying “I love it!”
Mary ran to the white-framed mirror that hung over the dresser. “Look at me; a complete disaster area on two legs; I swear if I could only be gorgeous I’d have the world in the palm of my hands, that’s what my big sister always says; she is ob-sessed with being gorgeous and always goes on diets and loses and gains and loses and gains; not me; I eat what I want to eat when I want it.”
Petey stood beside her. It was the first time someone had joined her in the mirror. It was the first time since so long ago that she even had a mirror in her room. And still, she was rumpled up and messy. Seems having a mirror didn’t always mean Petey fixed herself up as she should. And she didn’t think Mary was too much a mess, though she wasn’t as perfect as Angela always had been.
They sat on Petey’s bed and Mary talked and talked and talked. Momma came home, telling Anna the story about how Daddy’d once been caught in a snow storm and had to spend the night in the car, and how she’d worried and fretted, and how she had been pregnant with Hill. She’d gone outside over and over and searched and searched for Daddy’s lights coming up the drive. She’d called the police, but they were doing all they could to help people. Momma said she didn’t sleep all night and all night Hill kicked and kicked inside her, pushing against her, wanting out out out and how she prayed and prayed that Hill would wait, and lucky for them both, he did. She said she’d never forget that night.
They stepped into Petey’s room and Petey introduced Anna and Momma to Mary. Mary jumped up and said, “How do you do I’m Mary but Petey already said that I just love your house and the garden and everything and my mom wants you to bake and she gave me some money to give you but wasn’t sure how much and she’ll be here in a little while to get me so you can talk to her because she’s been wanting to meet you she bought some of your cookies and a pie at the church bake sale . . .”
Anna and Momma stared at Mary with their mouths partly opened.
Finally, when Mary stopped talking, Anna said, “I have a special tea for that.”
And Momma laughed.
Petey went to bed that night and after Momma came in and sang to them (even though Petey thought she was getting too old for that, she secretly loved it) and thought about Mary. She had fun with her, and even with her mouth going on and on, Petey had laughed and felt happy. It was sort of the same as it had been with Angela, except different. It made things confusing, since going home to North Carolina was still her dream, but there were things in Texas that had turned out good. She was split right in two pieces, even if they weren’t even pieces. Her North Carolina piece would always be bigger.
She couldn’t sleep, rose, and walked silent to go to the kitchen for a glass of water. Hearing her parents’ quiet voices, Petey stopped in the hallway outside the kitchen and listened.
“. . . fellas want to have a barbeque.”
“That sounds good.”
“Have you looked at that building yet?”
Momma sighed, then said, “Yes, but I’m still undecided. I’ve definitely outgrown this kitchen, and Anna’s kitchen. If we rent that building, can we afford another house? I know we’ve talked about moving to another place.”
“If you rent the building, we’ll soon make enough money for us to afford something else. But I’ll be no kept man! I’m up for a raise. Maybe a promotion if things keep going as they’re going.”
Petey held her breath to the count of five, then let it out slow.
“We need a Plan for the Future, but a different one than we had before.”
“Yes, I suppose so. Things have worked in ways I never imagined.”
“Quinn?”
“Yes?”
“I know you miss the mountains.”
“I just don’t know. I’m tore up about it. Seems since we moved here things went from as awful as I could ever imagine to . . . well, to how it is now. Look at you.” There was a pause and Petey imagined Daddy brushing Momma’s palomino hair back, taking her hand. “You’re smiling again and doing what you always wanted to do.”
“And I could do it anywhere.”
“You know things aren’t that simple.”
I miss the mountains, too, Daddy, Petey wanted to say.
“We could plan a vacation there . . . back . . . back home. Oh, I do miss home, too.”
“Let’s plan it then,” Daddy said. “I’ll check with my boss, see when I can take off.”
Petey sneaked back to her room. She checked to make sure Hill was in his bed and he wasn’t. She peeked out his window. He sat on his tree limb, looking out at the stars. Petey called out, “Hill . . . come to bed.”
Hill hoo hoo’d, hoo hoo’d.
“Come on, stupid breath, before you fall and break your fool neck.”
Hill grinned and his teeth glowed in the moonlight. He scrabbled down the limb and into his window.
Petey went back to her bed.
Hill went around the partition and said, “Good night, anus breath.”
“Night, frog licker.”
Petey was so sleepy, sleepy. They were all baking pies and cakes and more pies and cakes and some looked like weird shapes and some rose up to the ceiling and some pushed out through the screen door. Mary talked to Angela and Angela turned to Petey and said, “Does she ever shut up?” and Petey shook her head no. Angela shrugged and put on lipgloss and then said, “Got to go! See ya!” and she disappeared. Daddy appeared and said, “Everything’s bigger in Texas,” and he pointed to a mountain that was pushing up out of the ground, right under their house, up up up they went, so it was like they were in, and on, the mountains, but it was Texas, too.
Petey woke that morning wishing her dream was real, that she could be in both places. She didn’t know which was worse, when she’d hated living in Texas and thought it horrid and hot and flat, or, when she knew the good things in it and it made her feel funny in her stomach to think of leaving them behind—like Mary and Anna.
One thing Petey knew for sure: life was always weird. Nobody ever seemed to get exactly what they wanted at exactly the time they needed it. There was always want.
Chapter 10
Petey closed her suitcase, grabbed the handle, and brought the suitcase out to the car. Daddy was already inside, hands on the steering wheel, ready to go. Hill was in the backseat, his head out the window, tongue hanging out. Momma watered her garden, one last time before they left for their vacation to North Carolina. They were staying in a little log cabin by a creek, off Soco Road. Uncle Zack was doing a furniture job in Georgia and besides, Momma said she hated to crowd him up. She didn’t want to crowd up Grandma, either, and instead Grandma was coming to visit them later in the week.
Petey put her suitcase in the back, and then climbed in beside Hill. Her stomach fluttered and flinched. She was excited, and also worried. What if when they were there, back home, it wasn’t like home at all? They’d be like all the tourists they used to watch. Back then, she’d felt so lucky to live there and the tourists were the ones who had to stay a little while and then leave.
Momma climbed up the iron stairs, went inside, came out with a box, and shut and locked the door. She went down the steps, knocked on Anna’s door, and soon Anna stepped out with her suitcase, which she put in the back. Anna slid in with Hill and Petey, and Momma sat in her seat in the front. Pete
y had been so happy when she found out Anna was coming. Momma had said, “Of course she is,” as if there was never any thought or question about it.
Anna said, “I am so excited! In all my travels, I’ve never been to North Carolina.”
Momma said, “You’ll love it. It’s so beautiful.”
“There’s no place anywhere like the mountains,” Daddy said.
Petey put her hands in her lap. She didn’t feel like talking. She’d written to Angela to let her know she was coming, and Angela had written back to say she couldn’t wait. From pictures Angela had sent Petey worried, for Angela had grown tall, and wore clothes that were fashionable and her hair was cut so it belonged on a grown woman and not a girl. She wore a bra, too. She’d told Petey all about it. Petey looked down at her chest: nothing.
They did as they’d done before, except when they stopped in Arkansas, they were able to get two rooms; one for the girls and one for the boys. They also were able to eat at a restaurant. The next day, Petey glued her attention to the window, watching and waiting for the mountains, knowing that right around a curve they’d suddenly be there, big and sweet as grandfathers. And sure enough, there, around the curve, up up up they rose. Petey caught up her breath. She thought sure Daddy caught up his.
Anna said, “My goodness.”
Hill let out an excited whimper.
Momma said, “Oh.” As if she’d forgotten how lovely it was. The last time they’d been there having been for poor Rock’s funeral.
Petey knew Momma would go see her baby boy. See how the grass had grown over him. She worried Momma would go back to being sad again.
The whole car was quiet as they made their way into Haywood County, onto Soco Road, then turning at Moody Farm. They swept around, then up, and followed the creek round to the little log cabin next to the creek, on a road that didn’t have hardly any other houses. Through her open window, Petey had heard two dogs bark at them as they drove by, and after that, other than the creek and the birds, all else was quiet.
The Firefly Dance Page 11