Watch Over Me

by Christa Parrish

  In the two weeks he’d stayed with them, Mrs. Larsen made breakfast every day. Sometimes pancakes, sometimes ham and eggs and hash browns. Waffles. Cheesy casseroles. Matthew didn’t think she allowed cold cereal in the house.

  He saw the syrup ripple in the little glass pitcher in front of him, looked up. Pastor Larsen, dressed in a pale green shirt and striped tie, had sat down at the end of the table. Matthew had never seen him without a tie—even at night, reading his newspaper with socks off and feet up; then he loosened it so the polyester hung slack around his neck, but he didn’t remove it.

  “I forgot to tell you I got a ride for you for Monday. Posie Peppmuller said she’d be there to pick you up at two thirty.” Pastor Larsen winked. “You know that means she’ll be waiting at ten to two.”

  Matthew nodded, signed thank you.

  “We’re glad to do it.”

  He hadn’t taken the medi-bus to dialysis in two weeks, either. The first day he’d stayed at the Larsen house, he scribbled a note to the pastor, asking him to call the center to change his pickup location. He didn’t want to wait at the apartment complex, though he could have.

  “I can take you, pick you up,” Pastor Larsen said.

  I don’t want to be any trouble.

  “It’s no trouble.”

  If you’re not too busy. I can just tell them the change when I get there today.

  “Don’t do that. We’ll get someone to take you wherever you need to go. Whenever.”

  That is being trouble.

  “How long have you been going to that place?”

  A year. About.

  “Every day?”

  Matthew shook his head. 3 days a week.

  “How come you never told anyone about it?”

  He shrugged.

  “It’s no secret that we’ve not been the best we could be toward you,” Pastor Larsen said. He patted the side of Matthew’s head. “We told ourselves we didn’t want to stick our noses where they didn’t belong, but really we had no clue what to do for you, boy. This is something we can do. Let us.”

  So Matthew did. And he had to admit he’d enjoyed the shorter rides, getting home a bit more than an hour earlier each night, leaving school only twenty minutes before the end of the day.

  He had a bed now, too. And a bedroom, a closet for his things, a desk and dresser. He wasn’t sure how long he’d stay with the Larsens. Pastor said as long as he needed to be there. Matthew didn’t expect Heather would let him back into the apartment. Ever.

  The first day after Skye’s arrest, Matthew had gone to school despite his exhaustion and the putrid feeling in his gut. He wanted to see Lacie, and he needed to see the nurse. Heather hadn’t tossed his medication out with him. The pastor brought him early, and he waited on the sidewalk until Lacie bounded off the bus and into his arms. “Mommy said bad things about you.”

  He pressed her into his rib cage, rocked her back and forth. Sienna walked past, eyes thin slits of disdain. And then Jaylyn, hair still wet from her morning shower and sleek in a ponytail. She carried two backpacks. Hers. And his.

  “Hey,” she said. “Thought you might need this.”

  Thanks.

  “Your pills are in there. I don’t know if I got all of them. I was . . . in a hurry.”

  I’ll check.

  “You okay?”

  I guess.

  “You have a place to stay?”

  What do you care?

  “Lacie, go inside,” Jaylyn said, prying the little girl’s arms from around Matthew’s waist.

  “I don’t want to,” Lacie said.

  “I don’t care. Go.”

  “Wait for me Monday, too, Matty.” Matthew nodded, and Lacie stuck her tongue out at her sister before disappearing into the school.

  Jaylyn slipped her ponytail through her O-shaped fingers, and when she got to the end she stuck her hair in her mouth, chewed it. She wore no makeup. “Lacie cried all night for you.” He turned his head, and she stepped around in front of him. “Ma will come around. She will. She’s just, you know, being all mama lion.”

  Doesn’t matter.

  “Matt, I . . . Well, class time, you know. I’ll see you.”

  He had nodded and watched her walk off, alone.

  Two weeks later, he still stood on the curb, waiting for the bus and Lacie’s hug, Sienna’s angry glare. He received both, and Jaylyn again needed to twist his youngest cousin away from him to get her into the building.

  “Jaylyn said you could come over today,” Lacie told Matthew. Her little cold hands snaked up the back of his shirt, knotting together at the small of his back so Jaylyn couldn’t pull her off too easily.

  He looked at both of them.

  “Ma’s working late. So, if you want to, you can,” Jaylyn said.

  Why, do you need me to watch the girls? With both him and Skye gone, he knew the brunt of the responsibility fell on her. Something new. He wanted to believe that the truce between them had grown from her realization of all he’d done for her sisters. Her, as well. But he still didn’t trust her.

  “It’s not like that.”

  Sienna will tell.

  “There’s no secret. I mentioned it to Ma already. She doesn’t care. She knows she screwed up. She just won’t say it, ya know? If you moved your stuff back in tomorrow, she wouldn’t blink twice. It would be like you’d never left.”

  “You have to come home, Matty,” Lacie said, bouncing up and down in place. “Jaylyn doesn’t swing with me, and she leaves big dry clumps in the macaroni and cheese. And she rips all the snarls out of my hair, and—”

  “Enough. I have a complex already,” Jaylyn said. “So, you coming?”

  Lacie clasped her hands together under her chin. Her bangs tangled in her eyelids as she jumped around him, blinking. She swiped them away. “Please, please, please?”

  Okay. But just a visit. And only if Ellie can come.

  “Matty and Ellie, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Lacie said.

  “We’ll see you then,” Jaylyn said, pulling her sister into the building by the strap of her backpack.

  “First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes—”

  Jaylyn clamped her hand over Lacie’s mouth. “Stop.”

  Matthew already knew the rest.

  Then comes baby in the baby carriage.

  He missed Silvia. But more so, he missed Abbi and the deputy. There were people now trying to know him—Pastor Larsen, his wife, the kids at school since he’d developed a bit of celebrity status—but the Patils had been there for him first. They’d cared for him, and he’d trampled them with his convoluted sense of moral absolutes.

  He knew he did the right thing. But was the right thing ever the wrong thing? He wasn’t certain anymore.

  Ellie waited for him outside homeroom. “What’s wrong?” she asked when he didn’t return her smile.

  What are you doing after school?

  “Drama rehearsal. Why?”

  Can you skip?

  She picked a long, dark hair from his shirt. Lacie’s hair. “If you need me to.”

  I do.

  “Okay, then.” Her forehead creased, freckles bunching together. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Lacie wants me to visit.

  “Matt, I—”

  “Hey, Savoie.” Teddy Derboven held out his fist, and Matthew bumped it with his own. “You, me, lunch,” he said, and disappeared into the classroom.

  Ellie shook her head.

  What? I don’t care that he failed algebra.

  “He cares that you didn’t.”

  Stop.

  “Vanity of vanities.”

  Ha, ha.

  “You laugh now. Next week he’ll be asking to copy your government homework.”

  Speaking from experience?

  “Maybe.”

  You can copy my homework anytime.

  “Like I need to.”

  They walked to his aunt’s apartment after school. It took half an hour,
but Matthew didn’t care. He spent the entire time with his fingers laced through Ellie’s, their connected arms a pendulum between them, her silver Möbius bracelet cutting into his inner wrist. He loved her, but he hadn’t told her. He didn’t know if she felt the same way and wouldn’t be the first to say it. At least not yet. Whenever he thought about it, he wanted to run over to the Patils’ house and ask Abbi her advice. In reality, Abbi probably wouldn’t speak to him again.

  He didn’t blame her.

  Lacie waited on the stoop for him, thin jacket open, no hat. “Matty, push me,” she said, darting toward the swing. He caught her before she got there, whirled her around and knelt in front of her, his fingers working the metal teeth into the zipper.

  “It won’t close,” she said. “It’s broken. But I’m not cold.”

  She wriggled onto the swing, and he gave her several under–doggies, holding her high in the air before running beneath her. Then he pushed her feet as she pumped her legs forward, straight at him. She giggled when he pretended she’d kicked him in the nose. Ellie watched, leaning against the building.

  After a while, Lacie jumped off the swing, hands bright pink. “Okay, I am cold. You’re coming in, right? I want to show you my spelling test. Mommy hung it on the ’frigerator ’cause I got a ninety-two. I really only got a ninety, but then I spelled the super secret bonus word right, so Mrs. Swell gave me two more points. Know what the bonus word was?”

  Matthew shrugged.

  “Paper. Only me and Darrell Pendleton got it right. But he gets everything right, so it doesn’t count much for him. Know how I knew it? It was on my pencil.” She pulled him through the door and unzipped her backpack. “See? Paper Mate. I guess it’s sorta cheating. But not really. Come see. There’s a butterfly sticker on it, and it gets all sparkly when you shake it.”

  He looked at the test and gave Lacie a squeeze. She grabbed the paper and showed it to Ellie. “See? I can be smart like Matty, too.”

  “That’s pretty smart,” Ellie said.

  Sienna threw her empty Pepsi bottle at them. “I can’t hear,” she said from the couch, TV on.

  The apartment was more of a mess than usual, the kitchen counter piled with dirty pans and dishes. Two full bags of garbage, black plastic stretched almost gray, leaned against the overflowing pail. Sticky splotches dotted the kitchen table, some fuzzy with lint, others crusted over. And stuff. Just lots of random things dropped everywhere, and left there.

  “Matty, make macaroni and cheese for me. Please, please,” Lacie said.

  He nodded, pulling up his sleeves, and Lacie said, “Don’t start yet. Let me get Jaylyn so you can show her how to do it right.”

  Without being asked, Ellie rinsed the sponge, squeezed it out. Smelled it. She opened the cabinet beneath the sink and found a cellowrapped package of sponges, pushed the old one into the trash can, and then washed the table. Matthew boiled water, and Jaylyn came into the room.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here yet,” she said.

  “Watch him,” Lacie said.

  “I will,” Jaylyn said.

  Lacie moved her mouth, shaking her head and shoulder, scowling. She hooked each corner of her lips with her fingers when Jaylyn turned to the stove, stretching her mouth, teeth and gums exposed. Matthew chuckled.

  “She made a face, didn’t she?” Jaylyn asked. “She’s such a brat these days.”

  Ellie started on the dishes, and Matthew grabbed one of the freshly washed pots, added milk and butter, and the orange powdered cheese. He whisked until the mixture thickened and bubbled, and poured it over the strained pasta.

  “That’s too much effort for Kraft,” Jaylyn said.

  But not too much for Lacie.

  He spooned the elbows into a bowl and slid it across the table to his cousin, sending a spoon down after it. He prepared another dish for Sienna, but set her place with a fork. Both girls got a cup of milk, and he cut the last apple and dropped a few slices on two saucers near the macaroni bowls. Want some?

  “Not now,” Jaylyn said.

  He held the pot up toward Ellie.

  “Sure, I’ll eat,” she said.

  He gave her a bowl and peeled a tangerine for her, too.

  She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Nutritious and monochromatic.”

  I don’t know about the nutritious part.

  She smiled, squeezed his arm.

  Jaylyn hovered while he finished tidying the kitchen, wiping counters and putting dishes away. He spilled the remaining pasta into a Tupperware and left it on the counter, one corner of the cover open so condensation would dissipate.

  Ellie chatted with all the girls, engaging even Sienna. He wasn’t surprised. Ellie sparkled, and it was infectious. They finished eating, and Lacie dragged Ellie down the hall, into her bedroom. Sienna followed, and before disappearing around the corner, Matthew saw her tell her sister, “You better not touch my nail polish.”

  “You’re pretty popular ’round school these days,” Jaylyn said, taking a Yoplait from the refrigerator. She peeled off the tin lid and licked it.

  Matthew shrugged. The double whammy of dating Ellie and turning in Skye had transformed him into some sort of local celebrity. Kids took time to talk to him now, sat with him at lunch. They invited him places. He couldn’t say he hadn’t enjoyed it a bit, maybe more, despite knowing how empty such curiosity could be, and how fleeting.

  “Ellie’s nice.”

  I know.

  “She likes you.”

  He grinned, though he tried to hide it, turning his face against his shoulder.

  Have you talked to Skye?

  “She calls.”

  How is she?

  “Holding her own. You gonna get out there?”

  He shrugged.

  “She asks about you. She’s totally ticked at what Ma did.”

  Matthew looked at her. Did you know?

  “No,” Jaylyn said. “And yes. I mean, I wasn’t surprised when I found out. I think the idea was there the whole time, even before the baby was found. I just didn’t let myself go there.”

  He understood. He probably knew, too—and didn’t want to know.

  “So, are you coming home?”

  It’s hard work, isn’t it?

  “That’s not why I’m asking.”

  Right. When was the last time someone did the dishes?

  “Things are different when you’re here, Matt. I’m not talking about the cleaning and cooking. It’s . . . more than that.”

  I’m not sure yet. I kind of like the quiet.

  “I don’t blame you.” Jaylyn scraped the last of the blueberry yogurt from the container, dropped the spoon into the sink. “I applied to college, you know.”

  Really?

  “I mean, just MTCC, but it’s more than I was planning. They have a radiology program. I can handle two more years of school. And I think . . . Well, I think now it’s okay to want more. For myself, I mean.”

  Lacie darted into the kitchen, forehead slamming into Matthew’s ribs. She twirled. “Ellie did it,” she said, her hair intricately braided and her fingernails painted. “I look better than Sienna, don’t I?” He saw the other two girls, Sienna with dark curls and lip gloss, Ellie with her hair clipped in all sorts of crazy directions, green eye shadow above one eye, purple above the other.

  “Don’t laugh,” she said. “Your cousins have a future in cosmetology.”

  “Tell Sienna I look prettier, Matty,” Lacie said.

  “Do not,” said Sienna.

  “You both look gorgeous,” Jaylyn said.

  Everyone flinched suddenly, turning toward the front door. Matthew did the same; Aunt Heather stepped in, kicked off her heels and dropped her oversized bag on top of them. She noticed Matthew,

  nodded ever so subtly, and said, “Jaylyn, heat me up some meat loaf. I’m gonna change.”

  Matthew hugged both his younger cousins.

  “Don’t forget to wait for me tomorrow,” Lacie said.

 
He gave her a double thumbs-up, and he and Ellie buttoned their coats to go, but not before he lugged both garbage bags to the curb.

  “You okay?” Ellie asked, looping her arm around his.

  Yes, he signed. She knew that one, learned more every day.

  “You sure?”

  Do you think I did the right I mean, would you have done it, if it were you? Your sister? Would you have turned her in?

  “I don’t think so.”

  He froze, swallowed. His fingertips went cold and told himself to breathe, that he only imagined his throat closing up.

  Ellie stopped, too. “No, Matt, I didn’t mean—”

  He brushed her away. Don’t apologize. I asked.

  “Matt, stop. I don’t mean it like you’re taking it.”

  You just told me I did the wrong thing.

  “You’re putting words in my mouth. I said I wouldn’t have been able to do it.” She took his hand. “That’s why it was you.”

  And she kissed him.

  Chapter THIRTY-EIGHT

  He stacked the boxes, filled with baby clothing and toys, in the empty room and pushed them up against the dismantled crib. The Whalens didn’t take many of the items Benjamin had offered them—a few outfits, a stuffed bunny, the bottles. The grandmother said they didn’t need much, but Benjamin figured they didn’t want anything smelling like the Patils’ detergent, imprinted with their memory. Abbi leaned in the doorway, arms locked across her chest; she held her elbows and swayed a little. She always rocked when she stood now. Habit. Or perhaps she tried to soothe herself, the way Silvia would be comforted if she still slept in Abbi’s arms.

  “I’ll take this stuff to the Salvation Army on Saturday,” he said.

  “I can do it tomorrow,” Abbi said.

  “I said I would.”

  “You said you would two weeks ago.”

  “And you could have had everything packed up two weeks ago. I’m not the only one who lives here.”

  “I wasn’t sure you did that anymore.”

  Benjamin flipped another empty box over, a smaller one, stretched the packing tape across the bottom seam, tearing the cellophane with his teeth. “Just . . . don’t.”