Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere (29 page)

“Are you feeling better, Sissy?” Sealy asked.

Khayla nodded, then grabbed me with both hands and hugged my head.

We stood there taking up space around the crib, filling the curtained room with the smell of Miss Priscilla's gum. Mr. High Pockets closed his eyes and pulled in a long breath through his nose. He smiled and opened his twinkly happy eyes. It was impossible not to smile with him.

The hum got louder—more familiar—causing an uneasy feeling to come over me. The look on Sealy's face let me know she heard it too.

Khayla was fidgeting so much it took everything I had to keep from dropping her. The girl wouldn't leave my lip alone. It must've been the smell of my gum that had her wanting to pull my mouth right off my face. I took hold of her little hand as careful as I could, on account of the tubing and all, and moved it away from my face at least ten times. But, as sure as muscadine grapes turn purple in August, that girl reached right on up and had at it some more with my sore lip, stretching it out like she was gonna pull it right up over my head.

“Stop it, Khayla!” My lip was gonna be as fat as a truck tire if she didn't leave it alone.

The humming stopped.

“Do you want me to take her?” Matthew asked.

“No. I just want her to stop pullin' on my dang lip.” The girl was getting on my last nerve with all her aggravating pulling and not listening. I could tell she was feeling better.

The curtain moved behind me. Someone on the other side was trying to open it. Khayla reached over my shoulder and slapped at the sheet-curtain.

The curtain slid across the metal bar till it got stuck and came to a stop. The person on the other side yanked and tugged, but the curtain wasn't budging.

I turned to set Khayla back down in her crib when my baby sister grabbed a fist full of that curtain-wall and pulled hard. The whole stupid thing came tumbling down! The curtain fell like a suffocating parachute over the top of me.

I heard Sealy gasp.

A loud
clink
rang out when the metal curtain rod hit the floor.

I swung my arm, trying to get the germ-filled ugly sheet-curtain off me before I smothered to death.

“Somebody get this nasty thing off me!” I was sweating and headed to a panic.

Then Matthew's white hands came up and under, grabbing hold of the curtain, and with one big whoosh the thing floated up and off my head. I reached up to smooth my hair when I seen her.

“What the . . .”

I stopped breathing.

I couldn't move. I couldn't believe my eyes. Standing there, with her face smeared in tears and her hands folded up by her heart, was Mama.

The caved-in look of Mama's face all but did me in. I crumbled into a ball of mush hugging my knees so fast, I ain't even sure how I got there. Mama slid to the floor and gathered me into her. Sealy squeezed herself up in, and we sat like that for a good long while—rocking and swaying back and forth. Miss Priscilla helped Khayla out of the crib so she could get into that big sobbing, mother-daughter happy pile too. I ain't no doctor, but I swear Khayla looked better just from seeing Mama's face and getting washed in her kisses.

To be in Mama's arms again just felt
right
. It was like Christmas and my birthday all at once. I ain't sure how she held us all at the same time like that, but she did. We could've stayed like that—like we was one person instead of four—for the rest of time, and it would've been fine by me.

“I knew you would find us, Mama! I just knew it,” Sealy said from up inside our mama-hug.

It wasn't till right then that I realized I'd been thinking I might not never see my mama again.

I looked up from under all of Mama's lovin'. Miss Priscilla was beaming from ear to ear with tears streaming down her face. Matthew
went to Martha and put his arm around her shoulders. She reached up and patted the top of his hand. Matthew's eyes filled with happiness and he nodded at me. The feeling coming from him drifted across that itty-bitty space and found my heart. A mix of laughs and cries filled the air.

Mama stood up on wobbly legs with Khayla clinging to her. She grabbed hold of the matching metal crib holding Kheelin. I helped Mama steady herself while she adjusted to the sight of finding her lost children.

“Khayla. What's happened to Khayla?” Mama's words were as shaky as her legs.

“She's sick, Mama,” I said.

Sealy flew into a long story about how Khayla had the runs and wasn't eating right. I didn't mind her doing the explaining. How was I supposed to tell Mama that it was on account of me and my stupid clumsy feet that her sweet baby girl was sick from sucking in putrid water—water I dumped her into?

Mama put Khayla into Kheelin's bed. The two of them slipped into twin-talk and giggles. I leaned over the rail, kissed my baby brother on his cheek, and untangled the twisted oxygen tube from around his ankle. I warned them both not to be yanking on each other's tubes.

“Well, for goodness' sakes. Will y'all look at that?” Miss Priscilla said, soaking up the sight of my twin brother and sister lovin' on each other. “I don't think I've ever seen a sweeter sight in all my days.” She pulled an old wad of tissue from her pocket and found a spot on it to wipe under her nose.

For the first time, Mama took in the sight of the freckled man rocking away with the lopsided grin.

“This is our friend, Mama,” I said. “His name is Mr. High Pockets.”

He stood up fast, almost knocking over the wooden chair. He swooped his arm, inviting Mama to please take his comfortable seat.

“He has nice eyes, doesn't he, Mama?” Sealy giggled.

Mama and Mr. High Pockets nodded at each other. Mama barely got out a “Hello” before Sealy took off rambling again. The girl was wide-open.

It was easy to see that Mama and Miss Priscilla had a secret understanding and a liking for one another. The two of them close together like that made me realize how much Mama could use some of Miss Priscilla's mothering. A tear for Memaw rolled down my cheek—a wish that she was there sharing in our celebration of finding each other.

Khayla and Kheelin were lost in being with each other, and Sealy was talking a mile a minute, not even pausing between words to take a breath. “A soldier girl named Stella made us get on a bus. She knows Uncle T-Bone from the Army, and then—”

The little wanna-be room was as noisy as the French Quarter in February, and I was more happy right then than I'd been since the day I made ten.

I looked over and seen Matthew slowly inching his way out of the room with his family out in front of him.

“Wait!” I said.

They stopped. Matthew turned and looked at me. “It's cool. I'm happy y'all found your mama, but we best be gettin' back to the cots.”

“Mama, this is my friend, Matthew,” I said, never taking my eyes off him. I took hold of the stubborn boy's hand and pulled him over by Mama.

“It's nice meetin' you, Mrs. Curtis,” Matthew said. “This here's my sister, Martha, and my brothers Lukey and little John.” Mama looked past the boy and straight into Miss Priscilla.

“No family . . . ,” the woman whispered to Mama.

Watermelon red filled Matthew's cheeks.

Mama held out her arms and Matthew stepped closer to her. She pulled him in and squeezed him good and tight, planting a long kiss into the top of his thick blond head. She let him loose, and he wiped a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand.

Mama studied him, sad and happy showing up at the same time on her pretty face. “You remind me of my Georgie.” She looked over at the other three Boman kids with sad love pouring from her eyes. Martha wandered over and let Mama hug her too. Lukey and little John stayed smushed up against Miss Priscilla.

“Look, Mama! Remember this?” Sealy broke the awkward quiet spell that had laid itself down over the room. Her book sack fell to the floor when she pulled out the swelled-up Bible that she'd fished out of the floodwaters.

“I've been reading to Mr. High Pockets every day. Now we can take turns reading to him like we did for Memaw, right, Mama?” Sealy scooched up onto Mama's lap the best she could—being too big for laps and all.

“When Memaw sat with her Bible, she said she could draw strength from knowing the word of God was resting in her lap. Remember,
Mama?” Sealy took a big breath. I don't think the girl was in control of her own mouth right then.

“Well,” I mumbled, “I never heard Memaw say nothin' about God sittin' in her lap.”

“Not God, silly. The
word
of God. She said it a lot.”

“She sure did,” Mama said in a far-off voice. “I'm not sure what your Memaw enjoyed more—sitting on that old porch swing with you, Armani, or listening to you read, Sealy.” Mama sniffed.

A blanket of quiet fell over us.

“I like to read to Lukey and Little John,” Martha piped up.

“Shhh . . . not now,” Miss Priscilla said, and patted the side of the girl's leg.

It turned out to be the kind of morning that would've made Memaw linger in the kitchen till way past breakfast time. When I closed my eyes, I could almost smell Mama's pies baking in the oven and warm chicory brewing in the coffeepot. We spent most of the day lovin' on Mama, and Mama lovin' on us—
all
of us. It was clear as the blue in Matthew's eyes that Mama had already made space up in her heart for the Boman kids. I sat cross-legged on the floor, watching my mama spread her goodness to every single soul in that cramped dinky room.

Miss Priscilla surprised us all when she came gliding in sometime after noon with a huge bag full of cheeseburgers and fries from McDonald's. I ain't lyin' when I say it was the best burger I've ever had in my whole life. Miss Priscilla even brought shakes for Mr. High Pockets and the twins.

There we were—the eleven of us—gathered wherever we could squeeze in around the beds, eating juicy burgers and gulping down Cokes on ice. The room was filled with “Mmms” and “Thank yous,” but I couldn't help but feel the empty space from Daddy and Georgie not being there growing bigger by the minute as the day wore on.

Sealy and Martha sat together on the floor up against Mama's legs. The two of them chomped on fries, happy-bobbing their knobby knees and heads. Not one time did Mama say a word about all the smacking going on or the talking with mouths full.

Matthew and his brothers ate in a huddle watching Mr. High Pockets put on a magic show. The man kept making loud slurping sounds even long after it was obvious his shake was gone.

I might've been the only one who noticed Miss Priscilla grinning from here to Mississippi. Then, like she couldn't hold it no more, she blurted out, “It's all settled, y'all!”

“What is, Miss P.?” Matthew asked, handing the quarter back to Mr. High Pockets. The boy had been trying forever to figure out how to get that shiny coin to fall out of his nostril. I ain't trying to be hurtful, but you couldn't pay me a million dollars to touch that nasty quarter, especially if I was eating at the same time.

“Okay, y'all, listen up. Here's what we're gonna do.” She looked at each one of us, but her eyes settled on me. “We're gonna shift the furniture around in here so y'all can stay with your mama tonight. That is, of course, if y'all
want
to.” She winked.

“And the Boman children?” Mama asked. “I know we can squeeze everyone in.”

We all stared at Miss Priscilla.

“Y'all are so silly sometimes, I swear.” She smacked a time or two. “When I said ‘y'all,' I meant
all
of y'all. It's gonna be a tight squeeze, but if the twins don't mind sharin'—and it sure don't seem they do—we'll get rid of this other crib and bring in a roll-away. Y'all can decide who sleeps where.”

Mama let out a big sigh and whispered, “Thank you, Jesus.”

Matthew swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and I real quick looked somewhere else, pretending I didn't see him do it.

“Now,” Miss Priscilla said, “First thing in the mornin'—I mean
early
, y'all, most likely even before the first breakfast call—they're gonna move Khayla and Kheelin to the Pediatric Unit over at Baton Rouge General. It's a good hospital with fine doctors.”

“But how?” Mama asked.

“All the arrangements have been made, Mrs. Curtis. Your babies are gonna get the care they need. You have my word on it.”

Mama closed her eyes tight and the tears came streaming down.

“Well, now look what you've gone and done,” Miss Priscilla said in a shaky voice. She cleared her throat and reached into her pocket, pulling out a tissue. “Now you've got me cryin' and my face is gonna run right off. Trust me now, y'all don't wanna see me without my face on.”

Mama's smile shined through her tears. “Miss Priscilla, you're a beautiful person, with or without your face on.”

“And now I see why your children are so special.”

Lukey was stretching out the bottom of Matthew's T-shirt, making it clear that he needed to use the bathroom.

“The hospital's settin' up a private room for y'all, Mrs. Curtis.”

“Please, call me Katherine.”

Miss Priscilla took a long breath and looked at Mama with the look of someone fixin' to ask for a favor. “Katherine, would you be willin' to take temporary guardianship of the Boman children?”

Mama didn't take but half a second to say, “Oh, yes, whatever I can do to help.”

Matthew looked at Mama like he was laying eyes on an angel.

Miss Priscilla snuck a peek over at Mr. High Pockets, who had his eyes closed. She lowered her voice to where I could barely hear her. “The hospital's agreed to make an exception and bring in a bed for Mr. High Pockets, since it appears he's adopted y'all. But that's up to you, Katherine.”