Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere (18 page)

“Mama, we ain't leaving without you.” I looked her straight in the eyes, my words coming from my heart.

“I can't leave without your Daddy.” She took in a big breath. “And Georgie . . . and Mama Jean.” Her world caving in was the most horrible thing I've ever seen in my life. I didn't know how to make it better for her.

“But Mama.” I finally found my voice. “Please, Mama. I can't do this. I can't leave you.”

Sealy was crying loud down in the boat.

“Excuse me, ma'am,” Mr. Oscar said, clearing his throat. “I know it ain't none of my business, but—”

“Mama, I can't do this without you. I
need
you.” I was near a full-blown panic. Mama closed her eyes and shook her head back and forth.

I leaned up on her chest and wrapped my arms around her and Kheelin. I whispered, “Mama, Sealy and Khayla need you. I can't take care of them proper without you.
Please
, Mama.”

She opened her eyes and looked at me, her face wet with tears. As plain as Mama has ever said anything, she said, “I'm sorry, Armani, but I can't. I can't leave them.” She stood tall and sniffed. Her tears stopped flowing. “Now, you do what I say, and you get on that boat.”

“But Mama . . .”

“You can do this, Armani. I have faith in you. You're special, my darling. You're strong. I know the children will be fine with you.” She wrapped herself around me and squeezed for a quick, long second. I didn't want that hug to end. Not ever. When I looked up at her, she smiled sweet and said, “Your daddy's going to be so proud of you, Armani.”

I looked down at my sisters sitting in the boat. They were both crying, looking so pitiful and small. Somewhere deep inside, I knew I had to get on that stupid boat.

I never paid no attention to where my heart sits up inside my chest, but it wasn't ever gonna be a mystery to me again. The breaking of it was a feeling like a hundred thousand cinder blocks piled on top of me, making it so I couldn't breathe.

I kissed Kheelin and gave Mama a kiss on her cheek. I reached behind my neck and unhooked the locket that Memaw had gave me right before she died. I stayed fixed on Mama's watery eyes till I had the compass-locket sitting pretty around her neck. Then I made my way over to the edge of the roof in Memaw's clunky boots. I sat down all wobbly, almost falling headfirst into the smelly, murky water.

Mr. Oscar reached up and helped bring me aboard his dinky boat. He wiped his tears away. I was glad to see that his heart matched his smile. He told us to sit and stay still. I didn't take his advice. If I was leaving Mama and my baby brother on a roof, I was at least gonna stand, so I could watch her for as long as possible.

“Ma'am, I'll send word regardin' you and the baby. I'll try to come 'round an' check on ya if I can,” Mr. Oscar Dupree said, looking at Mama.

“Take care of them,” Mama blubbered, crying wide open.

“Yes, ma'am,” Mr. Oscar said. Then his foot pushed up against the side of our lopsided house, shoving us out into the rolling water.

“Mama!” Sealy wailed.

“Maaaamaaa!” Khayla hollered over and over. She reached her short, thick arms up and out, like Mama could stretch across water
and nab her right out of the boat. Sealy held tight to her the best she could, till Khayla took to kicking and squirming. Khayla plopped out of Sealy's arms and landed with a tiny thud back onto the bottom of the boat. She screamed. I looked down, knowing I should pick her up, but I couldn't move.

Mr. Oscar scooped Khayla up and went straight into a bouncy, singsongin', “Shhshh,
bébé
, shhshh.”

All I could do was stare at Mama holding tight to Memaw's compass-locket and Kheelin, wondering why God was taking away my family.

I had my eyes fixed on Mama still standing on the roof with Kheelin when Mr. Oscar Dupree's boat made a
clunk
sound. We'd run into something.

I turned just in time to see a big ol' tire, like the kind that goes on a school bus or eighteen-wheeler, bouncing off the front of Mr. Oscar's boat.

“Will ya look at that,” Mr. Oscar mumbled under his breath.

“Armani, look!” Sealy said, pointing at the sight.

The Boman kids . . . clinging for dear life up inside a tire boat.

All four of the kids stared at us. They didn't say hey or nothing. They just slowly drifted past us. They wore pajamas and were even filthier than usual. I tore my eyes away from them and stole a look at Sealy and Khayla.

Right then I knew the only difference between them Boman kids and us was the color of our skin. I couldn't help but wonder if their daddy was floating somewhere, or if their mama was standing stubborn on a roof.

The littlest Boman kid lifted his arm like it weighed a ton and tried to wave a tired wave. Tears fell from his droopy blue eyes, running
streaks right through the grime on his face. Sealy waved back all slow, and started a new flood of tears all her own before burying her face in the top of her book sack.

“You know them?” Mr. Oscar asked.

Without taking my eyes off the tire full of kids, I answered, “No, sir, not really. They just ride our bus.” I ain't sure why, but right then, maybe 'cause of the look in the oldest boy's eyes, I felt like maybe I
did
know them.

“Armani!” Mama hollered off in the distance, jumping up and down and waving one arm in the air.

“Sealy! Armani! Come back! Hurry!” Mama screamed. Something had Mama in hysterics.

“Go back!” I yelled at Mr. Oscar.

“We can't go back,” the man said. “I promised your mama I'd get you kids somewhere safe.”

Sealy stood up and the little boat tilted to one side. “Please, Mr. Oscar,” she said in that sweet way of hers.

Without another word, Mr. Oscar Dupree turned his boat around. He zigzagged around floating trees, knocked-down telephone poles, chunks of people's houses, and lots of things I couldn't or didn't wanna recognize—and we headed back to Mama.

Wheezing. Loud wheezing, a sound I never thought I'd be grateful to hear. It's on account of that terrible sound that Mama was forced to come to her senses.

No one had to talk her into getting in the boat. Mama all but jumped right off that roof when we came up alongside the house.

“What's going on with that boy?” Poor Mr. Oscar looked like he was about to kick all of us off his boat, just for being too much trouble.

Mama's voice was loud and strong. “He's having an asthma attack and the inhaler's empty. I have to get to a hospital.” I liked the sound of Mama being strong.

“I can't take ya to a hospital.” Mr. Oscar looked nervous and wore out like the rest of us. “I hear they got some Red Cross folks scattered about,” he said while steering the boat in the direction of safety.

“Yes! Take us there,” Mama said. “But, Mr. Dupree, please hurry.”

The man looked at Kheelin struggling to breathe in Mama's arms. He turned his dirty ball cap around backward and stood up tall and straight, poking his extra-round belly out. “Yes, ma'am,” he said, and nodded at Mama. He handed her an ice-cold water from his Styrofoam cooler. “Don't y'all worry. That young boy's gonna be fine once we get him cooled down.” The man was right, 'cause after Mama rubbed water bottles from the cooler along Kheelin's back and face, the wheezing all but stopped.

“Now y'all sit down and let's see how fast we can get ol' Nessie goin'.”

“Who's Nessie?” Sealy asked. She pulled out her stashed Hubig's pie, took the tiniest nibble, then slid it back into her book sack.

Mr. Oscar tapped his hand on the outside of the boat. “This here's Nessie, darlin'. She might not look like much, but she gets me up and down the bayou just fine.”

Sealy giggled. “That's funny. You named your boat Nessie.”

“Yup,” Mr. Oscar said. Then he looked down at my sister and gave her that smile of his that reminded me of Santa Claus. “Ol' Nessie outrunned four gators in one day, yeah she did.”

“Really?”
Sealy believed everything
.

While they went on talking, my eyes met Mama's. Neither one of us said anything. It was like we were talking to each other without words. Something had changed between us. I could feel it as much as I could feel the weight of Khayla putting my legs to sleep.

We drifted past the first dead body when the sun was bright and high in the sky. The body was floating upside down and bonked right into the side of the boat. Mama shoved Sealy and the twins' heads into her bosom, hiding their eyes from the sickening sight.

I couldn't stop staring.

“Close your eyes,” Mama said. But I couldn't. My eyes were wide open.

I tried to push the ugly thoughts away of Daddy or Georgie floating out there somewhere. I felt sick.

Nothing looked familiar. I knew we were in the Ninth Ward, where I'd been living my whole life. But I was lost.

We drifted along in Mr. Oscar Dupree's boat. I only counted three houses that weren't completely under the water, or outright destroyed, or sitting cockeyed crazy like our house was.

“Hey, over here!” a man standing on a roof yelled at us.

“That man's hollering at you, Mr. Oscar,” Sealy said.

“Umhum,” he mumbled. I seen him look up at the man without moving his head.

The man on the roof wasn't alone. There were about ten people up there with him—some of them were kids, like Sealy and the twins. A large, heavyset woman walked to the edge of the roof and threw something. The empty Coke can landed in the boat, barely missing the side of Kheelin's head resting in Mama's lap.

I jumped up, rocking the boat, and hollered, “Are you crazy? You almost hit my baby brother!”

“Crazy?” The round woman screamed and threw a string of cusswords down at us. “I'll show ya crazy if y'all don't get us off this hot roof!” When that woman started flapping her fat sausage-looking arms around, I knew right away who it was.

“Mrs. Louell! Hey, it's me, Armani Curtis!”

“I don't give a rat's behind who ya are. All's I'm sayin' is y'all best get that white man over here and get me an' mine off this roof!” With every word, that woman's voice got louder and squeakier.

Mr. Oscar never took his eyes off the water in front of the boat. He said real quiet, so Mrs. Louell and her family couldn't hear, “There's no room on this here boat. I'm sorry, darlin'.”

I stole a quick look over at Mama, and knew that Mr. Oscar was right. There wasn't no room, especially for the likes of Mrs. Louell. But I still felt terrible just leaving them there like that.

“Mrs. Louell, there ain't enough room. We'll send someone for you.” I had to turn around to shout at her 'cause we'd already drifted past their house.

That woman and half her family threw anything and everything they could get their hands on at us. Luckily, none of them was quarterback for the Saints.

From then on, it was mostly a quiet, bumpy, roundabout ride. I hung my head, trying to breathe in the fading lavender smells buried deep down in Khayla's hair. I had to do something to cover up the gassy, rotten smell coming off the nasty water.

Mama all but came up out of the boat when somewhere close by gunshots rang out and the sound of dogs barking blasted through the air.

Mr. Oscar Dupree kept saying under his breath, “We're almost there.” Never, one time, responding to the sights and sounds around us. I was beginning to wonder if there really was a place called “there.”

The air in my lungs stopped moving altogether when I seen the steeple of our church sticking up out of the water. And the Bibles. There were floating Bibles
everywhere
.

Sealy reached over the side of the boat and scooped one of the books out of the putrid water. It smacked with a wet
thunk
on the floor of the boat. None of us said nothing. But we all knew she'd done the right thing.