Getting Near to Baby by Audrey Couloumbis Page A

if she would have something to say, but then she just listened. Hard.
    I took the phone and said, “Mom?” I sat down on the floor, pulling Little Sister with me, and held it so we could both hear. Aunt Patty stood next to us, looking down.
    â€œWilla Jo, it’s good to hear your voice,” Mom said, sounding far away. Little Sister pulled the receiver up close and breathed into it.
    â€œLittle Sister is listening to you,” I said loudly so that Mom would be sure to know “I’ll talk to you after.”
    And for two or three minutes, Little Sister sat with her ear pressed tight to the phone, her little face all aglow with hearing Mom’s voice. I pried it away from her for a minute and managed to listen along with her. Mom was singing her a funny little song, but not in her usual funny little way. I hadn’t heard Mom sing since Baby died. Maybe because this was so, her voice sounded rough and weak, like it didn’t get enough use. It was kind of sad. I let Little Sister have the phone to herself again.
    After another minute or so, she passed the receiver to me. “I’m here,” I said.
    â€œIs Little Sister all right?” Mom asked.
    â€œShe’s fine,” I said, because it was true. “But she misses you.” Saying so made my throat feel like something was stuck there.
    â€œI’m glad you have friends there, Willa Jo,” Mom said in a breathy little voice I hardly recognized. “I miss you all—I miss you both, something fierce.”
    â€œWhen can we come home?”
    I guess I shouldn’t have come right out with it like that. I heard Mom draw in a quick breath and I saw the stricken look on Aunt Patty’s face. She finally turned away from us and went to stand by the kitchen sink.
    I guess Aunt Patty hoped I would tell Mom about all the new clothes, and how Aunt Patty toasted frozen waffles for our breakfast and how she and Uncle Hob were planning to take us to the drive-in movie on Friday night. Maybe even Mom hoped I would tell her those things.
    But I wanted to go home more than anything. More than I wanted Mom to be proud of me, more than I wanted not to hurt Aunt Patty’s feelings, more than I wanted to play jacks with Liz. And Little Sister wanted to go home too. I didn’t need to hear her say so to know it.
    â€œAren’t you happy there, Willa Jo?” Mom said.
    I knew she wanted me to say yes. But I couldn’t say anything. My tongue was stuck right to the roof of my mouth.
    â€œAre you and Aunt Patty getting along?”
    I could have said, “Aunt Patty thinks because she bosses you and Uncle Hob around, she can boss us around too.” I could have said, “It isn’t Aunt Patty at all. I just want to come home where we can sit on the steps and sing funny sad songs. Where we can fall asleep to the rise and fall of each other’s breath.”
    â€œJust remember,” Mom said, as if she were feeling her way along, “two peas in a pod can rub each other wrong.”
    â€œWho are the two peas?” I said.
    â€œWhy, you and Aunt Patty, of course,” Mom said with a shaky laugh. “I guess it’s because you’re both big sisters, you like to be the boss. Neither one of you likes to be the one being bossed.”
    â€œI don’t think that’s it,” I said.
    Mom said, “Aunt Patty will never get over it if she thinks you girls don’t like it there.” I had a feeling she was telling me something else. Asking me for something.
    By now, the suspense had become too much for Little Sister and she got up on her knees so she could lean in and listen alongside me. I turned the receiver away from my ear a little to share it. “Little Sister is here with me,” I said.
    â€œWell, tell me what you’ve been doing with yourselves,” Mom said with the bright and uncertain voice of someone making a fresh start.
    So I told her about Liz and about