gulping air and shaking and so full of emotion that she thought she might shatter into a million pieces.
Gradually her sobs dropped to shudders. It was almost surprising to find herself alive and still in one piece. She sat there, in a strange place between exhaustion and fear.
If she had died from crying, she thought, no one would know until God knew when. She had told Rennie she didn’t need her, that she wanted to be alone, and Mama would be over in her living room with her books until the early hours of the morning and probably wouldn’t think a thing about not seeing Molly for a day or maybe two. It was a new and disturbing situation she found herself in. Getting off on her own did have certain drawbacks.
Moving on instinct, she forced herself up and into the bathroom to rinse her face and brush her teeth. The next instant, she spit out the toothpaste and dropped the brush into the sink, threw up the window, freed the screen and tossed it aside, and poked herself clean outside, gulping in the fresh night air. She stayed there, half hanging out the window, asking herself exactly what Tommy Lee had asked: “What happened to us?”
Molly thought that she could have answered, “It was the toothbrush.”
She was fairly certain the toothbrush had something to do with it, although she wouldn’t have told anyone she thought that, because they would think her crazy. And the mistake with the toothbrush wasn’t the whole of it. It all began much earlier than the toothbrush. It could have begun many lifetimes ago, according to her mother. Molly was inclined to feel that starting with her childhood this time around would be enough for anyone to digest.
Molly recalled clearly the first time she had seen Tommy Lee. He had come riding up on his own horse to the pond where she and her daddy were fishing. It was about the second or third time she and her daddy had been fishing on the Hayeses’ farm.
Daddy had greeted Tommy Lee with his usual charm. “Well, by golly, young man, we’re pleased to make your acquaintance.” Daddy had a way of making everyone feel special, and in minutes he had the boy down off the horse and fishing with them.
Although Tommy Lee had only been one year older than Molly, which made him only six, he had been tall for his age and the best-looking boy she had ever seen, and riding his own horse—which had really been a pinto pony but seemed so big because of Molly being so small—made him very mature in Molly’s eyes.
Sensing his power over her, Tommy Lee had very shortly taken charge.
“You hafta watch out for copperheads around here,” he told her. And, “Keep your shoes on when you wade into that water. You better not go out too far. Here, let me help you with baitin’ that hook.”
Pretty soon Daddy had just gone over, stretched out beneath a cottonwood, took secretive nips from the bottle he always brought with him, put his hat over his face, and gone to sleep. Thereafter, whenever Daddy took her fishing, he did a whole lot more sleeping than fishing. Tommy Lee always watched Daddy’s line, too.
Oh, yes, it was true: From the very beginning Tommy Lee had taken care of her. And she’d welcomed it as only a little girl who at the age of five was already in charge of a household could.
Her mother had not been a bad mother, simply a preoccupied one. Her mind had been divided between her “endeavors at growth,” as she called each job she took on, her philosophy books, and her husbands. When each new baby came, Mama doted on it for six months, when she believed babies should be breast-fed, but after that the baby was given over to the care of her sisters and whatever young girl Mama had coming in to help at the time.
It was Mama’s belief that everyone had to do their own growing. She had seen to it that her daughters had a roof over their heads and healthful food in the kitchen, but the details of everyday living were left to the girls themselves.
By the age of three, Molly was
Gradually her sobs dropped to shudders. It was almost surprising to find herself alive and still in one piece. She sat there, in a strange place between exhaustion and fear.
If she had died from crying, she thought, no one would know until God knew when. She had told Rennie she didn’t need her, that she wanted to be alone, and Mama would be over in her living room with her books until the early hours of the morning and probably wouldn’t think a thing about not seeing Molly for a day or maybe two. It was a new and disturbing situation she found herself in. Getting off on her own did have certain drawbacks.
Moving on instinct, she forced herself up and into the bathroom to rinse her face and brush her teeth. The next instant, she spit out the toothpaste and dropped the brush into the sink, threw up the window, freed the screen and tossed it aside, and poked herself clean outside, gulping in the fresh night air. She stayed there, half hanging out the window, asking herself exactly what Tommy Lee had asked: “What happened to us?”
Molly thought that she could have answered, “It was the toothbrush.”
She was fairly certain the toothbrush had something to do with it, although she wouldn’t have told anyone she thought that, because they would think her crazy. And the mistake with the toothbrush wasn’t the whole of it. It all began much earlier than the toothbrush. It could have begun many lifetimes ago, according to her mother. Molly was inclined to feel that starting with her childhood this time around would be enough for anyone to digest.
Molly recalled clearly the first time she had seen Tommy Lee. He had come riding up on his own horse to the pond where she and her daddy were fishing. It was about the second or third time she and her daddy had been fishing on the Hayeses’ farm.
Daddy had greeted Tommy Lee with his usual charm. “Well, by golly, young man, we’re pleased to make your acquaintance.” Daddy had a way of making everyone feel special, and in minutes he had the boy down off the horse and fishing with them.
Although Tommy Lee had only been one year older than Molly, which made him only six, he had been tall for his age and the best-looking boy she had ever seen, and riding his own horse—which had really been a pinto pony but seemed so big because of Molly being so small—made him very mature in Molly’s eyes.
Sensing his power over her, Tommy Lee had very shortly taken charge.
“You hafta watch out for copperheads around here,” he told her. And, “Keep your shoes on when you wade into that water. You better not go out too far. Here, let me help you with baitin’ that hook.”
Pretty soon Daddy had just gone over, stretched out beneath a cottonwood, took secretive nips from the bottle he always brought with him, put his hat over his face, and gone to sleep. Thereafter, whenever Daddy took her fishing, he did a whole lot more sleeping than fishing. Tommy Lee always watched Daddy’s line, too.
Oh, yes, it was true: From the very beginning Tommy Lee had taken care of her. And she’d welcomed it as only a little girl who at the age of five was already in charge of a household could.
Her mother had not been a bad mother, simply a preoccupied one. Her mind had been divided between her “endeavors at growth,” as she called each job she took on, her philosophy books, and her husbands. When each new baby came, Mama doted on it for six months, when she believed babies should be breast-fed, but after that the baby was given over to the care of her sisters and whatever young girl Mama had coming in to help at the time.
It was Mama’s belief that everyone had to do their own growing. She had seen to it that her daughters had a roof over their heads and healthful food in the kitchen, but the details of everyday living were left to the girls themselves.
By the age of three, Molly was
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