Girls Like Us (9 page)

I’m going to do it! I’m going to find a feed store and I’m going to walk to it and buy dry corns. I don’t care what Quincy got to say.

I had me a bad dream last night. Inside my head, Robert jabbing his finger at me. I be seeing the look in his eyes and Jen saying, “He’s trouble, he’s trouble, he’s trouble.” I hope I’m just havin’ crazy bad dreams like Biddy and didn’t go get the second sight all of a sudden.

I woke up tired after all my dreaming. I had me a long hot shower and went to Lizabeth’s. I drank extra-strong coffee whilst I made us omelets and toast.

Biddy bustle in just about the time Lizabeth show up. Lizabeth look a bit peckish. I wondered what kind of dreams she had. Biddy was nervous and rattling the silverware until Lizabeth and me both got a case of the jumps. All three of us did a lot of egg poking, and more food got scooted around than ate.

“Biddy, dear, could you please not tap your spoon like that? I have a touch of headache,” Lizabeth say.

Biddy drop her spoon with a clatter. “Sorry, Miss Lizzy.”

Lizabeth didn’t hear her. She was stirring and staring into her tea.

“Miss Lizzy?”

Lizabeth jerked like she been woke up. “Yes?”

“Can you show me where to find a feed store? And tell me how to walk there?”

Lizabeth stare at Biddy with worry and sad all mixed up in her face. “Yes. Let’s go do that now. I’m not hungry.” She turnt to me. “Everything is wonderful, Quincy. I’m having a bit of a bad day.”

Woo, don’t I know how that feel.

Those two went off in another room. I left the dishes for Biddy. That was part of the deal. My feet walked slow toward the Brown Cow. Seem like now that Robert was gone, I’d feel better, but I was feeling like a fairy story and the children heading into the dark woods.

Miss Lizzy drew a map. She made arrows on the street where I turn. She told me the directions like it was a story so I could remember. “Walk until you see a building that looks like a little cottage and then turn toward it, then go until you see a stop sign and turn the other direction.” She gave me money and said it was a “vance” on my salary. I helped Miss Lizzy back to her bed. She asked me to make her herb tea and to turn on the radio real soft.

“You know, Biddy, I was raised to be a southern belle. That means that I always use good manners.”

I look at Miss Lizzy. “Why, you got the best manners I ever see. You always dress up nice. Your clothes never got wrinkles — and you don’t slurp soup.”

Miss Lizzy give a little smile, but she still look sad. “Good manners can mean keeping out of others’ personal business. But it also means helping right wrongs.”

Miss Lizzy didn’t seem to be talking to me. But there wasn’t nobody else in the room. “I think of my youngest son often. My boy that died. I’ve often wondered what kind of man he would have been. How I wish I could see him just once more.” She sighed and looked back at me. “Why don’t you go get your corn now, Biddy. I need to rest and be alone with my thoughts.”

Miss Lizzy had a child that died?

That was worse than having a child being took away.

I worried because Miss Lizzy didn’t feel good. But she didn’t want me to stay.

I went to our apartment. I studied my map. I got down the stairs partways. I kind of freezed up. I always go across the yard to the big house. Now I would be out on the street with peoples besides Miss Lizzy or Quincy. Boys, maybe.

I tore upstairs. Got my coat and buttoned it up. I could go now.

I got to the Brown Cow and, sure ’nuff, there was a ole beat-up car in the parking lot and Robert sitting in the front seat. He hung his arm out the window, and he had a knife. He tap the side of the door with the blade and watch me walk up to the doors. He didn’t say nothing, the man in the driver’s seat didn’t say nothing, but when I pull open the door to the Brown Cow, somebody tap the horn. I jump about a mile and turn around. Robert jab the knife out at me, then make like he slice it sideways. Nothing change in his face. He just kept staring with his eyes all tight and full of mean. Then they tore out the parking lot with the tires squealing.

I went straight to the bathroom and threw up my little bit of breakfast.

I studied Miss Lizzy’s map. I walked with my head down except when I had to see a turn. If I didn’t look at nobody, they couldn’t look at me. I got to the feed store. Nothing bad happened.

There was a man at the counter. I hung back at the door, scaredy. But he wasn’t no boy. He had white hair. I wasn’t scaredy of mens as much as boys. I had to do this for Mama Duck. I took myself up to the counter.

I asked the counter man if ducks eat dry corns. He smiled at me. But not mean or dirty. He say that ducks like corns plenty. I asked for a little sack. Enough to feed a Mama Duck. He made a chuckle, but it was nice. He went off a ways. He came back toting a paper bag.

I pushed my money across the counter. “Is this enough money?”

He looked how peoples do when they figure I’m “challenged.”

But he didn’t make no fun. He smiled and said, “That’s one lucky Mama Duck.” He took my money. Rung it up on his cash register. Handed me money back. I turned to leave.

“You be sure to come back and tell me about the baby ducks, you hear?”

I didn’t know what to do. I waited, scaredy to hear something mean or bad. But he lifted his hand and made a little wave for me.

I grabbed hold the door. I took me a deep breath and give a fast wave. I got out of there. I was OK to keep my head up all the way home.

We been here a week when Ms. D. come by. She sit on our couch and axt how we been. Biddy up and tell Ms. D. ’bout how I’m cooking for Lizabeth first pop out the box. If I could have got my hands ’round her fat neck, I’d have choked her. Ms. D. don’t be needing to know our bidness.

Ms. Delamino came by to visit our first weekend. She was real nice. I bragged on Quincy’s cooking. I swear, instead of pleased, Quincy got all sulled up. I told Ms. Delamino about Mama Duck. She asked to see. She thought it was fine that we had a Mama Duck in our garden. Ms. Delamino said she wanted to talk to Quincy alone. I stayed outside to sing to Mama Duck.

Ms. D. come back in without Biddy and sit down. She smile. I figure she gonna tell me I shouldn’t be doing Biddy’s cooking for her or some such.

“Well,” she say, looking pleased as punch. “This is working out just fine.”

I give her my “Huh?” look.

“Quincy, we didn’t put you and Biddy together just because you happened to graduate at the same time.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“We spend a lot of time deciding what two people have strengths and weakness that kind of, well, fit with each other.”

Ms. D. must see in my face I didn’t know what she was talking about.

“How is this arrangement working out for you? If you are doing the cooking for Biddy, what does she do for you in return?”

Ms. D. sat for a while. She wait and didn’t say no more. Shoot-a-goose!

“She clean our apartment.”

Ms. D. nod. “So, you are learning to cooperate?”

I give her a look.

Ms. D. smile this time. “Get along. Share the work.”

“I guess so. But she still Biddy and I still Quincy.”

“Quincy,” Ms. D. say, “you and Biddy won’t find it as easy as most people to live on your own. You’ll have to help each other.”