He stepped into the open doorway.
She lay on her bed in a soft spill of light that poured through the curtained window. She was still fully dressed, in the same clothes, with the afghan thrown over her. The cat was curled up on the bed between her right arm and her side. Mrs. G was petting her absentmindedly with her left hand. She seemed to be staring out the window, as if fascinated by something specific. But of course that was impossible.
“You never changed into your nightgown.”
“No,” she said. Simply. Quietly.
“Have you gotten up at all since I last saw you? Can you get up if you need to?”
“I got up once to use the toilet.”
“Have you eaten?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I’ll make you something before I go to school.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Raymond. I’m not sure I can stomach much.”
“I’ll make you cambric tea and toast. Can you eat that?”
“I might be able to eat cinnamon-sugar toast. My mother used to make it for me with my cambric tea when I was unhappy. You just sprinkle a little sugar on top of the melted butter, and then some cinnamon from the spice rack.”
“Okay,” Raymond said. “I’ll be right back.”
He brought it to her on a polished wooden tray from her pantry, and she sat up with some effort to allow him to place the tray on her lap.
She took one bite of the toast and sighed. Not in a bad way, he thought.
“This was very good of you,” she said. “And the way you have made it is just exactly correct.”
Raymond glanced at the clock radio beside her bed. He would be late for school, even if he left now. But he was going nowhere until he was sure she was okay on her own.
“Anything else you need before I go?” he asked, sitting lightly on the edge of her bed.
“You can make this world into a place where no one would ever shoot Luis, because they would never have their gun already drawn. Or better yet because they weren’t carrying a gun at all. Because why would they shoot? He was only walking on the street with them, and if they had never met him, what cause would they have to judge? Why would they perceive a threat from a man only walking along? If you could make the world into such a place, that would be very helpful to me. Well. Forget me. It would have been helpful to Luis. It would be helpful to everyone.”
He sat in silence for a moment, feeling stung. He watched her take another bite of her toast.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Yes. I do know. And I hope that was not the wrong way to make my point. All I am saying is that people need a world that no one seems to be able to create. And since it can’t be fixed, I think only time will help. I think I need a great deal of time for this thing that has happened to move through me. But the fact that you want to help means more to me than I can say. It means the world, Raymond. That and the idea of those children, his children, coming to meet me and know me. They and you might be the only things holding me down to the earth right now. Oh, and this little cat. She has been such a comfort to me, sitting on my lap and purring. And I’d like you to stop to think which of these things I would have if you had not befriended me. Think about it, Raymond. Everything that is holding me down on the planet right now is something you brought into my life. And speaking of right now . . . aren’t you going to be late for school?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Getting toward late.”
But he didn’t move.
“Go,” she said. “What do you think will change while you are gone? Nothing will change. I will be right here.”
Reluctantly—very reluctantly—he left her and ran all the way to school.
He stopped in on the way home, hoping to see that she had moved while he was away.
She had not moved.
She was sitting up on the bed, the cat on her lap. Dressed in the same clothes. Staring in the same direction.
“Have you eaten?” That was the first thing he asked her.
She answered with only a sigh.
“If I make you something, will you eat it?”
“I don’t really feel very much like eating,” she said, turning her head vaguely in his direction. “I did get up and feed the cat, though. That’s the lovely thing about having an animal. You might not want to get up for your own sake, but you will bring yourself to do it for them. But I didn’t feel hungry.”
Raymond sat on the very edge of her bed.
“But that wasn’t really the question, though. Not so much if you felt hungry or felt like eating. I was asking if you would eat. If I fixed something and brought it in here, if you would at least try to get some of it down the way you did this morning. Because people need food to live. And the food doesn’t care if you really wanted it or not. It nourishes you either way.”
They sat in silence for a minute or two.
Then she said, “I feel like I’m letting you down, Raymond. Like I’m holding you back from the way you deserve to live.”
For some reason it made his face tingle. Almost a fear response. Or maybe embarrassment.
“I’m not sure why you would say that.”
“You want me to be okay. To get up and feel better. And go on.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And you want me to make the world a place where nobody would shoot Luis, because their gun would still be in their purse when they found out he was only trying to return their wallet. But I’m not taking it on that I can’t do that for you. I’m not seeing that as any personal failure on my part.”
“Good point, my friend. Good point.”
Another silent minute or two.
“Maybe a scrambled egg,” she said.
“Coming right up.”
“I feel bad having you wait on me hand and foot like this.”
“Don’t,” he said. “It’s no trouble.”
“What did I do to deserve such a good friend as you, Raymond?”