Driving out to the farmhouse, we didn’t talk about what to do. I parked the truck in the drive and we walked down into the meadow. The quilt was right where we left it, no worse for having spent the day out in the hayfield. The two cans of beer were warm, but I cracked one and drank it.
Wavy said all the stars, but we didn’t make a game of it. After she fell asleep, I was still awake, listening to the quiet, thinking about what we’d have to do in the morning. While Wavy swept and mopped, I figured I’d haul the things Val had destroyed out to the trash barrel and burn them. I kept thinking about that, picturing what needed to be done, because that was as far as I could think. After we cleaned up the house, I didn’t know what we’d do next.
12
DONAL
August 1982
I didn’t remember Mama and me having our wreck, but I remembered Mama and Uncle Sean fighting. Just like she does with Daddy. Screaming and hitting and breaking stuff.
“I hate you!” Mama kept saying.
“Where is it? Where the fuck is it?” Uncle Sean yelled. He went stomping all around the house, tearing things up, even worse than Mama does when she’s mad.
After he left, Mama said, “I’ll show him.”
I was hiding under the bed, but she came and dragged me out and said, “Put your fucking shoes on. We’re leaving.”
Then I guess we went for a ride and had our wreck, but I didn’t remember that.
I got a cool cast on my arm and everybody signed it. For a while it was just Wavy and Kellen and me at the farmhouse, and I liked that. Wavy was happier, and when Kellen and me made jokes at dinner, she laughed out loud. I wanted us all to sleep together, but Kellen was too big, so he slept in Wavy’s bed and she slept with me. Mostly.
Then Mama got to leave the hospital, and Daddy said, “I want you to come live with me.”
I thought that would be cool because there were motorcycles and puppies and firecrackers down at the trailers. Maybe I could get a bike, too.
Plus Wavy made me eat good-for-me stuff. Oatmeal and green beans. At Daddy’s house, Sandy let me eat Pop-Tarts and frozen pizzas.
Also, Mama scared me. She was different people. “Wait,” Wavy said. Her rule was Don’t talk to Mama until she talks to you. Wait until you know which Mama she’s going to be. If Mama said, “Oh God, I’m so alone,” it was okay for me to hug her.
If Mama said, “Worthless motherfucker. I’ll show him,” you better watch out. Even Kellen didn’t like to come in the house when she was like that, and he was lots bigger than Daddy.
Before Mama came home from the hospital, Sandy helped me pack my stuff. We packed Wavy’s clothes, too, while she sat on the bed, touching her quilt.
“We can take the quilt with us, honey.” Sandy stuck her hand out, getting ready to do something stupid. Only Kellen and me got to touch Wavy. And she could hit hard. Boy, I didn’t want to see that.
“Don’t touch her,” I said.
“Wha?” Sandy was kinda stoned so she was being silly.
Wavy stood up and Sandy started to fold her quilt.
“No,” Wavy said. When Sandy didn’t stop, Wavy said it loud: “NO.”
“You don’t want to take your quilt?”
“It’s not her quilt,” I said. Grandma, who I didn’t remember, made the quilt for Wavy, but I knew the rule. Nothing belongs to you. I knew the rule, but I didn’t like it. My stuff was mine, like the pocketknife Uncle Sean gave me. If somebody tried to take it, I’d sock them.
Sandy put the quilt back on the bed and took the other stuff to the car.
First thing, when we got down the hill, I showed Wavy the puppies in the garage. It was okay for animals to touch her. She petted them and let them crawl on her lap.
I wanted to light firecrackers, but it was getting hot outside, so I said, “Let’s go watch TV.” That was something else we didn’t have at the farmhouse. Wavy had her little TV with rabbit ears, but Sandy’s trailer had satellite.
Only when we went inside, Daddy and Kellen and Butch were there.
“Hey, come here, kiddo,” Daddy said. Then he saw Wavy.
He yelled, “Sandy! Sandy!” until she came. She musta been in the shower, because she had a towel on her head.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” Sometimes I thought Daddy couldn’t see Wavy, but he pointed at her.
“But you said you wanted the kids to move down here. You—”
“I said, ‘The kid.’ Donal. Not her.”
“You—what do you want me to do?” Sandy said.
“Get her out of here. Take her back up to the farmhouse.”
“I’ll take her,” Kellen said.
After Wavy left, I didn’t want it to be fun living at Daddy’s. It wasn’t fair if I had fun and she didn’t. But there were puppies, and then Daddy bought me a motorbike and taught me how to ride it. Anyways, Wavy didn’t really want to live there, and I still got to see her. Sometimes she came with Kellen, and sometimes she snuck in to see me. Some mornings, before anybody else woke up, I went across the meadow to the farmhouse. That was the best.
13
KELLEN