hated that old neighbor lady of ours, but last time I said so, Mother swatted me on the backside and told me not to be saucy. I continued to play with my thimble and my doll and our pot of fruit and I didn’t begin listening to Old Babba until she became too loud to dismiss and ignore.
“You’ll bring nothing but trouble to this place, Carolina,” she said. “You and that girl of yours.”
I wonder what kind of trouble Old Babba was afraid of my mother causing. And me? What could a child of not even five cause to happen? Was she just a meddlesome busybody, leaving venomous words in her path, not caring who she insulted and accused? Why did my mother put up with her?
My whirling thoughts are brought to a sudden halt when I hear the screech of tires outside my window. I see the familiar lights of the Blue Beast as they turn into our driveway; they shine right into my window and onto my bedroom wall. I wonder what the screeching was all about and since I’m not sleeping anyway, I leave my bedroom and tiptoe down the stairs. Israel is taking off his jacket when I reach him and I give him a quizzical glance.
“What was the noise out there?”
“I don’t know,” he rubs his five o’clock shadow. “Thought I saw something. Too big to be Gladys’ cat, must have been a stray dog or something. I was afraid I was going to hit it so I ended up hitting the curb instead. How was the rest of the party? Joe have fun?”
“Mmhmm.”
“You look exhausted,” Israel stares at me, concerned. “Are you not sleeping?”
I shake my head. “I feel like a zombie. I’m sure I’ll fall asleep eventually. I’ll probably not get up until noon tomorrow.”
“Well, get some rest.” He heads towards his bedroom. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” I sigh.
And head back to my respective bedroom as well. And walk to my window to peer out through the sheets of rain still falling. Everything is dark except for one dim street light near Gladys’ house. It illuminates her side yard and her sweet little fencing. It illuminates a shape that is surely what Israel almost hit with his car; the shape of a slim woman wearing a soaked red dress, her hair ghostly white in the light and plastered to her head, dripping down her back and her beautiful face, her feet bare and standing in a pool of water, as she stares up at me in my window.
Chapter Sixteen
Once when I was about twelve I came upon a deer and her little baby, drinking from a pond. I was up in a tree at the time and I had a perfect view of them. They didn’t know I was up there and I sat there for the longest time, just watching them and admiring the way their red dappled fur shone in the sun. I so desperately wanted to get closer to them but I was torn: if I left my perch in the tree I would have to take my eyes off of them and if I took my eyes off of them, there would be no guarantee that once I could look again they would still be there.
Now was like that time, but in the place of sunlight and deer I am staring breathlessly at shadows and Rose. She doesn’t move and neither do I for what seems like the longest time. I don’t think I am breathing. Finally I lift my hand and press it against the glass where the condensation has proven I am indeed alive and breathing. The second I move, Rose winces as though slapped. I see her feet step backward, out of that pool of dim light that bathes the sidewalk. She nearly disappears in that step, but not quite and with my heart in my throat I can no longer wait motionless. I whirl away from my window and thunder down the stairs. My house is quiet and dark and because I don’t bother flipping a light switch, I nearly trip on an end table as I round the corner at the bottom of the stairs. My toes throb from the collision but I don’t stop, ripping open the front door and stepping onto my porch. I have to stop my feet for a moment, willing my eyes to adjust to the dark and to focus on the streetlight and what lies beyond it. I cannot make out