closer and slid my legs under the covers, wincing when I heard the blast of a horn.“That’s her honking. Please don’t let her take me. I don’t want to go, Momma. Momma?”
All of the muscles from my throat down to my stomach tightened as I waited there, staring at the serving tray with the fold-down legs. My eyes followed the tray’s gold edge back and forth until it became two blurry lines. Then, very slowly, Momma’s arm, blue white and freckled, rose from the covers and she closed her fingers around my hands and warmed them. “I don’t deserve you, Bear,” she said.
As she wrapped her arm around me tight, I started to cry. It came in waves and it came with no sound. Nothing, not my father or even my long-gone mother who used to twirl in circles and smell of gardenia lotion, could have comforted me more. I wanted to fall asleep there. Her arm was heavy, but until it hurt, I wasn’t going to move.
There was a moment of peace, a slippery sense of calm in which I believed that Dad’s secretary would leave and our family would load the U-Haul and drive away together. I wanted to believe in this, though I heard Dad calling for me. I could hear him in the hallway, and I braced myself for the sound of his hand on the doorknob. There it was.
The door opened and he entered the room. His shadow approached the bed, and I quickly closed my eyes, believing he would not want to wake me. I tried my best not to move, sure he could hear every swallow. And when I felt his hand on my shoulder, I flinched.
“Come on, Tillie. It’s time.”
I kept my eyes closed, my heart wild and thumping.
“Please don’t be difficult now,” Dad said and started to pull me away from her.
“Bear,” Momma whispered into my ear with dark and powerful breath. “My little Bear.” Her arm stayed limp around me.
I grabbed hold of the mattress, kicking my legs and arching backward when he tried to lift me, but his grip was strong. He carried me, thrashing, down the hallway past my silent brother and out the front door. Anne’s white hatchback, stained by the red dust, was waiting at the end of our walkway with the engine running and the passenger door open. Dad wrestled me in beside his secretary.
“I won’t go!” I screamed.
He tried to buckle me in, but I flailed around so much he couldn’t get close. I didn’t realize he’d shut the door until I tried to launch myself back out of the car and hit my head against the window. But it was when he held his hand up to say good-bye that the panic started. My teeth chattered and my legs began to tremble as if I was only then awake enough to understand what was happening.
“Tillie, you have to settle down,” Anne said, as if I could.
“I want my mother!” I yelled, but my voice sounded far away, drowned out by the sound of blood pumping in my ears. I felt the thud of my suitcase landing in the trunk, and lunged for the handle. She slapped my hand away, and we began to drive.
Sobbing and dazed, I turned around in my seat and stared out the back window at the house I’d never see again. It got smaller and smaller, and then Momma rushed across the lawn in yesterday’s clothes, waving her arms desperately over her head.
“Let me out!” I shrieked. I couldn’t catch my breath.
Anne kept her eyes on the road, accelerating as Momma called my name again and again before she fell to her knees in the grass.
4
Teacups and Violins
I OPENED MY EYES TO see flat, beige land speeding by, and sat up suddenly, feeling the seatbelt across my lap.
“Awake already?” Anne asked.
Seeing her behind the steering wheel, I remembered that I was in her car, remembered how she slapped my hand when I tried to run back to Momma.
“You were out so quickly. I thought you might sleep the whole way.”
Everything ached—my back and neck from leaning away from her, my head and throat from screaming. My feet, which didn’t touch the floor, felt tingly from hanging still for so long.
“I’m
All of the muscles from my throat down to my stomach tightened as I waited there, staring at the serving tray with the fold-down legs. My eyes followed the tray’s gold edge back and forth until it became two blurry lines. Then, very slowly, Momma’s arm, blue white and freckled, rose from the covers and she closed her fingers around my hands and warmed them. “I don’t deserve you, Bear,” she said.
As she wrapped her arm around me tight, I started to cry. It came in waves and it came with no sound. Nothing, not my father or even my long-gone mother who used to twirl in circles and smell of gardenia lotion, could have comforted me more. I wanted to fall asleep there. Her arm was heavy, but until it hurt, I wasn’t going to move.
There was a moment of peace, a slippery sense of calm in which I believed that Dad’s secretary would leave and our family would load the U-Haul and drive away together. I wanted to believe in this, though I heard Dad calling for me. I could hear him in the hallway, and I braced myself for the sound of his hand on the doorknob. There it was.
The door opened and he entered the room. His shadow approached the bed, and I quickly closed my eyes, believing he would not want to wake me. I tried my best not to move, sure he could hear every swallow. And when I felt his hand on my shoulder, I flinched.
“Come on, Tillie. It’s time.”
I kept my eyes closed, my heart wild and thumping.
“Please don’t be difficult now,” Dad said and started to pull me away from her.
“Bear,” Momma whispered into my ear with dark and powerful breath. “My little Bear.” Her arm stayed limp around me.
I grabbed hold of the mattress, kicking my legs and arching backward when he tried to lift me, but his grip was strong. He carried me, thrashing, down the hallway past my silent brother and out the front door. Anne’s white hatchback, stained by the red dust, was waiting at the end of our walkway with the engine running and the passenger door open. Dad wrestled me in beside his secretary.
“I won’t go!” I screamed.
He tried to buckle me in, but I flailed around so much he couldn’t get close. I didn’t realize he’d shut the door until I tried to launch myself back out of the car and hit my head against the window. But it was when he held his hand up to say good-bye that the panic started. My teeth chattered and my legs began to tremble as if I was only then awake enough to understand what was happening.
“Tillie, you have to settle down,” Anne said, as if I could.
“I want my mother!” I yelled, but my voice sounded far away, drowned out by the sound of blood pumping in my ears. I felt the thud of my suitcase landing in the trunk, and lunged for the handle. She slapped my hand away, and we began to drive.
Sobbing and dazed, I turned around in my seat and stared out the back window at the house I’d never see again. It got smaller and smaller, and then Momma rushed across the lawn in yesterday’s clothes, waving her arms desperately over her head.
“Let me out!” I shrieked. I couldn’t catch my breath.
Anne kept her eyes on the road, accelerating as Momma called my name again and again before she fell to her knees in the grass.
4
Teacups and Violins
I OPENED MY EYES TO see flat, beige land speeding by, and sat up suddenly, feeling the seatbelt across my lap.
“Awake already?” Anne asked.
Seeing her behind the steering wheel, I remembered that I was in her car, remembered how she slapped my hand when I tried to run back to Momma.
“You were out so quickly. I thought you might sleep the whole way.”
Everything ached—my back and neck from leaning away from her, my head and throat from screaming. My feet, which didn’t touch the floor, felt tingly from hanging still for so long.
“I’m
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