Part 9 (2/2)
She throws her hands in the air. ”Whatever it is you kids are always so busy doing. Come talk to her, will you?” she asks, sucking her lips inside her mouth like Theresa does.
I follow Mrs. Mattaman to her apartment. On the way, I see Jimmy down at the dock, tracking our progress. When he sees that I see him, his head ducks down as if he wasn't watching. Here I am, stepping on his toes again. But what am I supposed to do? This was Mrs. Mattaman's idea, not mine.
Why is it people always ask me to do these things anyway?
Theresa is completely under the white nubby bedcover. Not even a toe is sticking out-it's just one big Theresa-size lump planted in the middle of her bed.
”Hey Theresa . . . c'mon, stick your head out, I gotta talk to you,” I say.
”Theresa isn't here,” she whispers.
”Well, hmmm,” I say, ”this is definitely Theresa's room. I wonder where Theresa went?”
The lump is silent.
Out in the living room, Mrs. Mattaman switches the station on the radio. It makes a patchwork of high-pitched squeaks until she settles on Jack Benny.
I try again. ”Look, I heard Annie wants to put together some more gangster cards. She really needs your help. n.o.body knows how many bullet holes to put in Bonnie and Clyde except you.”
Still nothing. Not even a change in the wrinkle pattern over her little self.
I look around her room. What am I going to do here? If Mrs. Mattaman can't figure this out, then how am I supposed to?
Where is Theresa's strange stuff on Alcatraz book? I wonder. Maybe there's something in that. Once she was sure Baby Face Nelson was hiding in the canteen pickle barrel. Another time she thought she'd found Al Capone's pinky ring, but it was a clasp that fell off of Bea Trixle's purse.
On her bedside table is a pad of paper. Maybe I'll write her a note and send it under the covers. I flip through looking for a blank sheet. ”Dear Theresa,” I begin on a page with a faint impression of a checkerboard. I know what this was from. Theresa drew a checkerboard so that she could play b.u.t.ton checkers with Natalie.
Theresa understands Natalie better than any other little kid ever has. She's able to figure out how to play with her too.
”I'm going to visit Natalie tomorrow,” I blurt out.
Just as my lips form these words, a plan begins to take shape in my mind. I could go to San Francisco to visit Natalie and then make certain I got on the 2:00 boat, the ferry Mae will be taking. Theresa could come with me. Seven-year-old little girls can get away with things that almost-thirteen-year-old boys cannot. Theresa could just hand Mae the roses . . . couldn't she?
”I need help.” My voice comes out in an urgent rush. ”Will you come?”
The Theresa lump moves a smidgen. The covers rearrange around her middle.
”I have to talk to Mr. Purdy, the headmaster. You could play b.u.t.ton checkers with Natalie. That way you can keep her busy while I talk.”
”Bring a magazine,” Theresa whispers.
”Sure, but once she presses her face on each page, she's done with the magazine. My talk with Mr. Purdy's gonna run much longer than that.”
”Bring an index. You don't need me.”
”I can't read to her and talk to Mr. Purdy at the same time.”
”She's there without me all the time,” Theresa growls.
”Yeah, but not when I'm there. If I spend my time talking to Purdy, she's not gonna like that.”
Silence again, but there's a different feel to this silence, like maybe Theresa is thinking about this.
I tap the flat part of the bedspread near what I think is Theresa's leg. ”Natalie is going to expect you to be there. What am I going to tell her?”
This elicits a big complicated sigh from the white bedcover. ”Tell her I'm stupid. Tell her I'm the stupidest person in the whole world and she's lucky I'm not there.”
”Theresa, you're not stupid. You made a mistake. I make mistakes all the time. I made at least 150 mistakes in the last hour. Wait no, 151.”
Theresa's voice is so quiet I almost don't hear it. ”He almost died.”
”Yeah and you did the right thing. You let Jimmy and me know he was in trouble, and we got him to Doc Ollie and Doc Ollie got the penny out. And now he's fine.”
More silence.
”I wished Rocky would go away.” She can hardly get these words out.
”Yeah, okay,” I whisper back. ”But that doesn't mean you don't love him. Do you know how many times I've wished Natalie would go away?” As soon as I say this my armpits begin to sweat and my hives burn. I don't mean this. I don't.
”Really?” Theresa whispers, her voice yearning.
My hand steadies myself on the bed. I can't lie to Theresa, but I sure as heck don't want to talk about this. ”Sometimes I feel that way,” I admit.
The covers are moving, like she is nodding.
”But Natalie's not going to understand any of this. All she'll know is you aren't there.”
”I'm a jinx,” Theresa says.
”No, you're not.”
”Am so. That's what Piper said.”
”Since when do you listen to her?”
”Since never,” she concedes.
”Exactly. Piper is full of c.r.a.p. You of all people know that.”
The covers move again in a nodding motion. ”Why do you like her then?” Theresa whispers.
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