I gazed at the sign language book and then I sat up, took a deep breath to help swallow back the tears, and opened the cover.
May would never hear the sound of my voice, but right now I thought I was as small and as vulnerable as she was. It seemed she would be the only one in this house who would understand how deep my well of tears went.
I sat at the vanity mirror and practiced the hand movements until my eyelids drooped. It had, after all, been one of the longest days of my life, second only to the day Daddy died. After I put on my own nightgown, I realized it was too sheer for me to walk around in, so I put on Laura's terrycloth robe and went to the bathroom.
When I came out, Cary was waiting to go in. He had the strangest expression on his face, a pleasant look of surprise.
"Is May asleep?" I asked.
"I put out her light and say good night first," he replied.
"I learned how to sign good night. Can I try?" "Don't keep her up," he said, returning to the bathroom.
I went down the hall to May's room and looked in. She was in bed, reading a young adult novel. I had to move up to the bed for her to see me. She lowered the book and smiled. Then I signed good night.
Her face beamed and she signed back. Then she held out her arms. I embraced her and kissed her cheek, signed good night again, and left her room. Cary glanced at me and as we passed in the corridor I said, "Good night."
"Good night," he mumbled, sounding as if I had forced him to say it.
It brought a smile to my face.
I returned 1.a my room, closed the door, and slipped under the comforter. The windows were still open, but I didn't mind the breeze. It was a
comfortable bed, the sort I could snuggle in.
I gazed at Papa George's pocket watch, running my fingers over its outside. Then I opened it carefully and touched the blade of grass I had taken from Daddy's grave. The watch tinkled its tune. It gave me comfort.
I didn't want to think of anything sad. I didn't want to remember Mommy driving off. I didn't want to hear Uncle Jacob's harsh words, yet they rang in my ears. "The sins of the father weigh on the shoulders of his sons and daughters?" What sins?
Outside the window, the sound of the ocean's waves stroking the shore resembled a lullaby. In the darkness of the room, I wondered about Laura falling asleep to the same rhythmic ocean song. I wondered about her hopes and dreams, and her fears, too.
Then suddenly, I couldn't help crying for my mother. I closed Papa George's watch and put it back on the night table.
I took a deep breath and then I signed good night to myself. I closed my eyes and hoped for the magic of sleep.
7
"Grandpa" Cary
.
Sunlight filtered through the wall of morning
fog. First it trickled, then it poured through my bedroom windows: lifting darkness and sleep from my eyes. I blinked and stared at my new surroundings, feeling still embroiled in an-elaborate dream. This entire journey, Mommy's leaving me in the home of my estranged relatives, my waking in my dead cousin's room, had to be part of some nightmare I had suffered after Daddy's death. Surely, if I blink again, I thought, I will be back in Sewell. Any moment I might wake up, get dressed, have breakfast, see Mama Arlene and Papa George, and then be on my way to school. I'll just close my eyes, take a deep breath, make a wish, and when I open them again, all will be as it was.
But the door of the room opened before I could make my wish. Aunt Sara stood there, her lips formed in an 0, her eyes wide. Her palms rested on her chest. Then she blinked rapidly and smiled down at me.
"Good morning, dear," she said. "I'm sorry if I frightened you, but when I opened the door and looked in and saw you there in Laura's bed. . . just for a moment it was as if Laura hadn't . . Laura was still here. Did you sleep well? But of course you did," she said, answering her own question. "Laura's bed is so comfortable, isn't it?"
I rose on my elbows and then sat against the headboard and ground the traces of sleep from my eyes. "What time is it?"
"Oh, it's early. We rise early. Jacob wanted me to wake you with everyone else, but I told him you had such a trying day yesterday you needed a little extra sleep. Cary and your uncle Jacob have been up for more than an hour preparing the boat. I've already made them and Roy breakfast."
"Roy?"
"Jacob's assistant."
"Oh. Then May is up, too?"