Lakewood - Megan Giddings Page 0,22

ice cubes.

“I’ll get the silverware,” Lena offered. In the kitchen, taped to the front of the refrigerator was a Don’t Forget list with Lena’s new address and a description of the job she’d be working. When her mother’s back was turned, Lena scribbled on the sides: I love you. Call me anytime. Make all bill collectors contact me. I can come home. I love you. Don’t paint the whole house without talking to me. She drew hearts around all the things that looked harsh, hoped it softened them. On the refrigerator Lena taped a note to Miss Shaunté with all the essentials and a small bonus check.

When Lena returned with the silverware, Deziree patted her hands and arms as if she were going away for years. She kept repeating the name Lakewood. At first, she said the word as if it was an unknown or an unexpected ingredient. Snails? Are you sure? Snails? Lakewood.

“It’s fine, Mom, everything’s on the fridge.”

“Lakewood, Lakewood, Lakewood, Lakewood, Lakewood, Lakewood,” Deziree said, clawing at her own face, her voice getting higher with each iteration.

Lena grabbed her hands, held them firmly but gently. “Let’s eat.”

“I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Halfway through the meal, Deziree spat out a piece of steak. It landed on the table, narrowly missing Lena’s arm. Deziree stood up.

“Mom?”

“The spirit loves raw potatoes.” Her eyes were focused on the wall behind Lena. Deziree waved her hands as if a cloud of mites was swarming around her head.

The refrigerator hummed. Lena wasn’t sure whether to keep eating, wait for it to pass, or to do what her grandmother would sometimes do: describe exactly what was happening and try to ground the moment’s details. We’re just having a nice dinner, Deziree. The steak is medium-rare. The sparkling wine is very dry. It’s 7:38 at night. Your sweet potatoes are incredible with the chili sauce you made. Our life is about to change, but we’ll both be great.

Deziree sat down in her seat quickly.

“Mom?”

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Mom.”

“Will you please just accept this lie, so we can have a nice dinner?” Deziree’s voice came out clear.

Lena nodded.

They ate quietly for a few moments. Deziree’s hand shook a little as she cut her meat. Lena wondered if it would ever be possible to be relaxed while her mother struggled, to live fully in the idea that her mother would ask her for help when she wanted or needed it. There was a difference between helping someone you loved for their sake versus helping them because it made you feel good. But it was hard to be measured and thoughtful in the moment.

Her mother put her knife and fork down. “I understand that you have to do this. But you have to promise me you’ll go back to school when everything is settled.”

Lena nodded. “I swear, if it means I’m one of those ninety-year-olds that they put on the news.”

Deziree smiled, but her eyes were sad.

“My great-great-grandson Demetrius only got a B minus on the final. This old bag of bones”—Lena pointed at her chest—“A plus.”

If she were in a better mood, Deziree would have joined in. Asked about the grandkid’s name. Did her own old-woman voice. Or maybe pretended to be the teacher on the news talking about how it was great to see that learning could happen at any age. Instead, she pushed around the sweet potatoes on her plate for a few moments. Then she excused herself and said she probably was going to sleep until morning.

Lena scrubbed the stove, washed the dishes. Going to her bedroom, she went through her phone. There was a photo message from Kelly: a calico cat with its tongue sticking out as if it was trying to catch a snowflake. She sent back a picture of the desk wedged into her bedroom. The room was the size of a generous walk-in closet. Enough room for a twin bed, a very small desk, and a skinny wardrobe one of the men at her grandma’s church had custom-made for her. Any hint of mess was overwhelming in the space.

Then she called Tanya. Talked her ear off about how it might only take a year or two to make everything back in order and get them safe again. The word “safe” surprised Lena as it left her mouth. She had meant to say “steady.” Tanya was obviously thinking about something else, since she kept saying variations of “That sounds cool.” And though Tanya was home, Lena pictured her sitting at the desk in their dorm