Tomato Girl

by Jayne Pupek

  I gasped, sucking air into my lungs so suddenly it sounded like a noise an animal might make.

  “Ellie,” Daddy said, “I want you to take Jellybean outside and let him walk around in the yard.”

  My legs wouldn’t move. I’d never seen anyone break something on purpose. Maybe a pencil or a toy that didn’t work, but nothing that belonged to someone else. Nothing as pretty as my mother’s porcelain.

  Daddy didn’t notice that I hadn’t left. He didn’t notice me at all.

  He moved toward Tess, placed his hands on her shoulders, and whispered her name.

  She turned her head as if she didn’t want to look at him.

  I watched Daddy take her face in his hands as if he held a precious shell. And then he kissed her.

  Not on the forehead.

  Not on the cheek.

  Daddy kissed Tess on the lips.

  TEN

  RUNAWAY GIRL

  SEEING DADDY KISS Tess made me want to poke out my eyes. I’d never be able to erase it away. How could he do such a thing? My ears rang like somebody had hit me, and I felt light-headed.

  I turned and ran outside, slamming the door behind me. Daddy followed me into the backyard and called after me. But I kept running, not sure where to go, just wanting to get away. I ran across the street, slipping between the tall elms that bordered the next yard. My movements disturbed birds that had nested for the evening. I heard them flutter and caw in the trees.

  Behind me, the thud of my father’s boots on asphalt made my heart race. Daddy was faster than me, but I was smaller and the sun had almost set, making it hard for him to see me. I moved behind trash cans and bushes until his footsteps no longer followed.

  I reached the church parking lot, and started to go inside. I could sleep on the wooden pew, maybe find some communion bread and grape juice for supper. But I was not in such good favor with God and didn’t want to push my luck.

  Spending the night with Mary Roberts wasn’t a good idea either. I’d have to walk a long way back and risk running into Daddy. Mrs. Roberts would feed me dinner and let me sleep in the white canopy bed with Mary, but she would also ask a lot of questions. What if I slipped and told her about the kiss?

  I really wanted to stay with Mr. Morgan, to curl up in his lap and roll his cigarettes while he told me again about the special door. He wouldn’t be at the store this late, and his house was too far to walk. I checked my pockets: one dollar and twelve cents. Not enough to pay cab fare to Mr. Morgan’s house.

  I decided to walk to school. There was no other place to go. Maybe the janitor had left a door open. Or maybe I could crawl inside an open window. I could even break a window if I had to. I knew how from watching Daddy break in our house the time Mama changed the locks and wouldn’t let him inside. Daddy had wrapped his hand in his coat while he smashed the glass with a rock. I didn’t have a coat with me, but I could rip part of my dress or use one of my socks.

  You have to make do when you’re a runaway girl.

  Once inside, I’d have the building to myself. I could curl up in the library and read a book. Maybe eat leftover fish sticks in the cafeteria, then all the strawberry ice cream I wanted. If I cut myself on the way in, there were Band-Aids and peroxide in the infirmary. The brown plaid sofa beside the cola machine in the teachers’ lounge might make a good bed. I could go to the music room and bang on the piano as loudly as I felt like it. If I stayed away long enough, Daddy would be sorry. He wouldn’t kiss Tess again. He’d love Mama the way he did before Tess came.

  I worried about Jellybean and hoped he’d forgive me for leaving. Early in the morning, I’d sneak back home and get him. I felt bad. He’d be cold, scared, and hungry. “Don’t cry, don’t cry,” I repeated. The tears came anyway. I wiped my eyes with my fists, then pinched my arm.

  Runaway girls need to be brave.

  I walked a long time to reach the school yard, and had to cut through the trailer park where country music blared from radios, and there were beer cans scattered across some of the front yards. I’m not allowed to play in the trailer park or on Gratton Street where coloreds live, but I’ve gone to both places with Daddy to deliver screens and plywood. Seems there are always windows and doors needing repair in poor houses.

  The backs of my legs hurt. My saddle shoes were tight and making my feet sweat.

  Fireflies began their nightly dance in the darkening sky. To keep my mind off troubles, I counted green blinks as I walked to Granby Elementary.

  I didn’t expect to find anyone at the school, but when I stepped around the corner to see if the back doors were unlocked, I noticed two women on the playground. It was Miss Franklin and Miss Wilder. I never guessed they came to the school after hours. Miss Franklin pushed Miss Wilder on the swing, and they both laughed like girls.

  Miss Wilder spotted me before I could back away. She threw up her hand and waved. “Ellie!”

  I waved, then turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Miss Wilder called.

  This time my legs were too tired to run. The backs of my knees ached. The soles of my feet burned and felt sore. My shoes probably had rubbed blisters.

  “Hi Ellie, how are you?” Miss Wilder knelt beside me. She wore blue jeans and a yellow tee shirt. I was so used to seeing her in dresses, I couldn’t help but stare.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you here with your parents?”

  “No, by myself. I don’t live too far. Grace Street.” A mosquito bit my forearm and I slapped it, smearing a drop of blood on my skin.

  Miss Wilder pulled a tissue from her pocket, dampened it with her tongue and wiped the blood from my arm. I was grateful Mary Roberts wasn’t here to see that. She’d be sure to say that lesbian spit rubbed on your arm would only lead a girl to trouble. But I didn’t care. I was already in too much trouble to worry about spit.

  “Well, it’s nearly dark, Ellie. That’s a long way for a little girl to walk alone at night. Can I come with you?”

  “No, I can make my way back.” I couldn’t let Miss Wilder walk me home and run into Daddy or Tess.

  “Does your mother know you’re here?”

  “Mama fell and is in the hospital. That’s why I missed school yesterday. I was in a hurry to get to Daddy’s store, and didn’t stay home and get her onion, and she slipped. She’s supposed to have a baby, but now the baby might die.” I hadn’t meant to say so much, but the words came anyway. I didn’t want to cry in front of my teacher, but I couldn’t stop the tears.

  Miss Wilder wrapped her arms around me. She patted my back the way a mother burps her baby. Her hand felt warm and solid.

  Miss Franklin walked over, too. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Ellie’s having a hard day,” Miss Wilder said. “Ellie, honey, Miss Franklin and I live near here, too. Just two blocks away. Why don’t you come home with us now and we’ll figure things out?”

  I nodded and let Miss Wilder keep her arm around my shoulder. It felt good to have someone’s hand steady me. As we walked back to their house, Miss Franklin followed close behind. She whistled a tune I liked but didn’t recognize.

  A vase of pink carnations decorated the kitchen table. By the window, a lime green parrot perched in a wrought iron cage. “Hello, Belle,” the parrot screeched and turned its head to one side to look at me.

  “We bought Belle when we went on a trip to South America two summers ago,” Miss Wilder said.

  At school, Miss Wilder kept clay pots and brightly colored baskets on her desk, some filled with paper clips or apples. She reminded me of Mama, the way they both loved unusual things and were not afraid to be different, but Miss Wilder didn’t suffer the moods Mama did. She might scold Belle for being noisy, but she wouldn’t tape the bird’s beak shut to quiet her.

  “Does she know many words?” I tried to think of something to say to be a good guest. Seeing Belle reminded me that my little green chick was on his own unless Daddy or Tess remembered to feed him. I should not have left Jellybean
. No matter how mad I felt at Daddy, or how much I hated Tess, my chick was small and helpless. New tears wet my eyes.

  Miss Wilder guided me to a chair at the table where Lotus-shaped candles floated in a bowl of water. She handed me a box of Kleenex from the top of her refrigerator, then brushed my bangs away from my face. “Would you like some warm milk?”

  Miss Wilder knows just what a person needs when they feel low. At school, when I stand at the blackboard and get the equations wrong, she touches my shoulder and makes me forget how stupid I feel. Once, when Mary Roberts tripped on the wet steps in front of the school, Miss Wilder brushed the dirt off Mary’s dress. She checked and rechecked all the bones Mary swore she’d broken.

  “Yes, milk would taste good.”

  Miss Wilder stood at the stove and heated a pan of milk, then stirred in nutmeg and honey before testing the temperature with her finger. After pouring the milk into a bright blue bowl, she handed it to me.

  “In Europe, the people drink coffee in bowls, not cups. Did you know that?” she asked.

  I shook my head and managed to smile.

  “Drink this,” she said. “It will make you feel better.”

  I sipped the warm, sweet milk. It soothed my throat and filled the sad place in my belly.

  Miss Franklin went into another room and returned a few minutes later with a drawing tablet and a box of colored pencils. “When I feel really down, it helps me to sketch pictures. The colors make me feel better again. Maybe you’d like to draw for awhile?”

  I opened the drawing tablet. At first I made only a few random marks, but after a little while, pictures moved across my mind and I put them on the paper. Soon, three pages were filled. I drew Belle and my blue bowl. I drew my house on Grace Street with its wide front porch and shuttered windows, then a picture of Jellybean peeking from his oatmeal box.

  I didn’t draw Mama, Daddy, or Tess.

  “You know, Ellie, I have to call your father and let him know you’re here. I’m sure he’s very worried about you,” Miss Wilder said.

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Why do you say that?” Miss Wilder wrinkled her forehead.

  “I just know.” I drank the last of my milk, then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Can I stay here?”

  “Yes, I suppose. I mean, I’d love to have you spend the night, but I do have to ask your father, Ellie. Is that a deal?”

  I thought for a moment. Teachers want permission slips for everything. Field trips and tardiness, even trips to the bathroom. She wouldn’t understand that runaway girls don’t bring notes from their fathers. I didn’t want her to call Daddy, but knew she had to. I gave Miss Wilder my phone number.

  She walked into the next room and called. Her voice was so low, I couldn’t make out what she said. A few moments later, she stepped around the corner, the black receiver in her hand. “Ellie, here. Your father wants to speak to you.”

  I held the receiver.

  “Ellie?” My father’s voice sounded sharp and hollow like an ax against wood. This was a voice I’d heard him use at other people, but never at me.

  “Yes.” I stood in the living room and tightened my hand around the phone.

  “I know you’re upset with me, Ellie.” His voice softened a little as he continued. “There are things you’re too young to understand, things I don’t know how to explain to you.”

  “I know what I saw, Daddy. You kissed Tess. I saw you.” I tried not to speak so loudly Miss Wilder would hear.

  Daddy sighed. I pictured him running his hand through his thick, dark hair. He’d have his glasses off; he’d pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger, trying to find the words he wanted. “Ellie, I’m coming to get you. We’ll go to Joe’s, have an ice cream float and talk, okay?”

  “I don’t want to come home, Daddy. I don’t want to go to Joe’s, and I don’t want an ice cream float!” I wanted to slam the telephone down, like I’d seen people do in movies.

  “Ellie, you’re just going to have to trust me. You belong at home. I’m coming over to get you now.”

  “I don’t want to come home! You can’t make me!”

  “Fine, Ellie. I thought you were more mature than that. You’ve always been my big girl, helping me at the store, sewing the buttons on my shirt. I thought I could count on you. Maybe I was wrong. And maybe I was wrong to let you have Jellybean, too. You just ran off and left him here. No food. No water.”

  “I was going to come back and get Jellybean.” Tears stung my eyes.

  My father used his firm voice. “You have a choice to make, Ellie. I’m calling a cab, and coming over to Miss Wilder’s to get you. If you don’t come home, Jellybean goes back to the store.”

  My voice broke. “Please, Daddy, I’ll come home. Please don’t take Jellybean away!”

  Daddy didn’t say another word. I heard the loud click in my ear which told me he’d hung up the phone. I stood in Miss Wilder’s living room as long as I could, holding the receiver in my hand. Maybe I listened for Daddy’s voice to come back and say something to make the hurt inside me stop. Maybe I just didn’t want to return to the kitchen and face Miss Wilder’s questioning looks. I don’t remember what ideas filled my mind, only that I waited there a long, long time.

  Miss Wilder’s voice startled me. “Everything okay?” She poked her head inside the door and looked at me with soft, worried eyes.

  “I have to use the bathroom,” I said, and placed the receiver back in its cradle.

  INSIDE MISS WILDER’S bathroom, I sank to the floor and leaned against the cold toilet. Tight knots twisted inside my stomach. Maybe this was my fault for letting Tess kiss me. I thought about the smoke kisses she blew against Daddy’s neck a few weeks earlier while they talked inside her truck. That hadn’t been my fault. This was all too confusing. My head hurt.

  I stood up and ran my fingers over the gold bar of soap in the open shell on the sink. Then a knock came and Miss Wilder’s voice. “Ellie, your father is here.”

  WHILE THE YELLOW cab waited in front of the bungalow, I said good-bye to Belle and thanked Miss Wilder for the milk. She kissed me on the cheek and told me to visit again. Daddy opened the cab door for me. He waved at Miss Wilder, who remained standing on her front porch, her arms folded against the chilled air. Miss Franklin stepped outside and waved, too.

  I climbed into the backseat of the cab and scooted all the way to the door opposite Daddy. The cab smelled like leather and cigarettes. A wad of bubble gum and a crumbled potato chip bag lay on the floor. As the cab pulled away, Daddy slid next to me. He wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my head. He rocked me back and forth, saying my name over and over.

  His breath smelled bad, like the whiskey he keeps in his toolshed. I’d known my father to drink only when he was worried about important things like bills, taxes, and my mother’s moods.

  “I was so scared, Ellie. Don’t ever do that again,” he pleaded. “Don’t ever run away from me again.”

  Seeing Daddy hurt was more than I could stand. I told him I was sorry and promised never to run away again. “Don’t worry, Daddy, everything will be fine. Mama’s coming home tomorrow.”

  INVISIBLE THINGS LIVE in the air. Dust fairies. Whispers. The static of socks on wool. I felt something invisible the night I came from Miss Wilder’s house. The fine hairs on my arms and neck rose like threads.

  Daddy stood too long at the window, staring at the road in front of our house. What did he see that held his gaze so long? I tried to imagine looking through his eyes. No matter how long I stared, I saw nothing but the blue-gray pavement darkening into black before it disappeared.

  Tess flipped through magazines, but had little to say. She looked at Daddy, then back at the glossy pages of girls wearing bright clothes and earrings that dangled above their pale shoulders.

  No one mentioned the kiss. No one said a word about me running away. No one spoke about Mama coming home the next day.

  But the words nobod
y said were like oily fingers staining everything.

  I sat cross-legged on the floor and played with Jellybean, trying small doll hats to see which ones fit. Only the bonnets that tied under his beak stayed on when he shook his head. I left a yellow one on for his sleeping cap and excused myself to go to bed.

  That night a spider came to me in dreams. It wasn’t the leggy black insect that scared me, but the web, white like skeins of yarn. Caught in the sticky fibers, I struggled, twisting my arms and legs, shoving the long, white cords away. No matter how I twisted or pulled, I couldn’t break free. The web tightened around me like a thick cocoon.

  ELEVEN

  BAD LETTERS

  THUMPING SOUNDS WOKE ME. In my drowsiness, the spider’s black heartbeat filled my ear.

  I sat up in bed and screamed.

  “Ellie?” a girl’s voice came from outside my door.

  I rubbed my arms. Only bed sheets. No spider webs. I felt my hair, running my fingers through tangles. I looked at my fingers. No spun web, only hair.

  “Ellie? I’m … I’m out here.” Tess. Her voice sounded strange. Was she hurt? Maybe she was having a seizure? Maybe Tess was on the other side of my door flopping on the stairs with her tongue trapped between her teeth, barely able to speak.

  Remembering what Mary Roberts had told me, I rushed to the table by my bed and grabbed Jellybean’s feeding spoon. I tried to scrap off the dried oatmeal with my fingernails, but had bitten them to the quick since Mama’s accident. I couldn’t get the spoon very clean. Surely Tess wouldn’t mind a little dried cereal if it saved her tongue. I tiptoed to my door, pressed my ear to the wood, and listened. Another thump. Daddy had hardly ever left Tess alone in the days she’d been in our home, so where was he now? Not sure what I’d see or find, I took a deep breath and opened my bedroom door.

  Tess stood partway down the stairs, wearing denim cutoffs and a pale pink tee shirt. She wasn’t having a seizure. The thumping was Daddy’s brown suitcase bouncing down the stairs, one step at a time. Maybe Tess was leaving after all. Maybe she’d decided to ask Daddy for train fare. She could go someplace new and different. Far away from here.