I hold my breath, trying to keep the tears in. I have to hold it so long that I see spots in my eyes. Letting myself take in a breath, I shut my eyes tight, so the tears won’t come anymore, because I know what’s next. Daddy hates a crier. Mama, too. He says nothing more to me the rest of the way home. My hands finally stop shaking about ten minutes before we pull in. Mama’s asleep, and daddy warns me if I wake her, that I’ll be punished. I shake my head, but I don’t dare say a word, and I head to my room, to bed.
When I awake in the morning, mama’s up, and looking every bit as sick as daddy said she was. “Mama, can I make y’all some chicken soup?”
“Please. But don’t make it all lumpy like the last time.” She says grumpily, and I know that it’s the sick talking. Daddy’s gone in to work, since Saturdays are very important for a used car salesman. I’ll be careful to steer clear of him when he gets home, as he’ll be rightfully grouchy, too, getting to bed so late on account of me.
“I’m going in town to the mall, mama. You want anything?”
“Get me more ginger ale. My wallet’s in my purse.” She whines.
I take my time at the mall, looking in my favorite stores, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. My face brightens. “Missus Wellman?” I say, recognizing my favorite teacher in the whole world. Ms. Wellman taught me in third and fifth grade. I’ve seen her here and there over the years, but I’ve always been with mama or daddy whenever I’ve run into her, so I was never allowed to talk to her.
“Ava!” she gushes, giving me a big hug. “How are you, dear?”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
She’s taller than me, like most, with thin golden graying hair, perfect white teeth that hold her perfect smile, and beautiful, enviable skin. I’ve always admired her for her beauty, both inside and out. “I’m doing well. What brings you here? I heard you were accepted at Houston?”
“Yes, that’s right. I’m just home for the weekend.”
“And how are your folks?”
My face falls slightly. “Well, mama’s sick with the flu right now, and daddy’s working today.”
“Well, I hope she feels better, dear.” Ms. Wellman says.
“Thanks. Are you still teaching?”
A grin spreads across her face. “Yes, of course.” She tells me that she’s still at my old elementary school. Then she looks around. “Are you free for lunch? My treat?”
“I’d love to, but I have to get back to mama. She wants me to bring her home some ginger ale.” My eyes are swollen from crying myself to sleep last night, and since mama and daddy don’t like me wearing makeup, I’m wearing sunglasses to cover it up. But it’s this moment that an eyelash flies into my eye, and I have to remove the glasses to get it out.
“You okay, Ava?” Ms. Wellman asks, resting her arm over my shoulder.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I lie. Aside from the innocent eyelash, inside I’m falling apart. I decide that the jig is up, so I tuck the glasses on my crown, knowing that I look like hell.
“Are you sure?”
“I just…I had a bad night. It’s nothing.” Another lie.
“How about we sit down for a tea…it won’t be five minutes, Ava.” Her comforting voice is like a song to me. Part of me recorded it to memory as a child, so that every time mama or daddy made me cry, I’d remember her voice, and it helped a lot. Hearing it again, that specific tone, fills a small void in my chest that’s been there for as long as I can remember.
“Sure. Just for a minute though, or mama will get upset, and I’d hate to upset her when she’s sick.”
We walk over to the coffee shop just across the hall. I’ve been out for almost an hour, but it’s not so much the time that I’ve been away, as the company. Mama and daddy don’t like it much when I go out alone, especially when I meet up with people they don’t like. Neither of my folks ever liked Ms. Wellman. I never really understood why, as most of the meetings that they had were without me, but they told me not to heed her all the same.
After we get our teas, we sit down. She’s the first to speak. “Now you tell me how come you’re at home with your folks, when you could be off having fun with kids your own age, huh?”
I shrug. “Mama and daddy want me to come home on weekends is all.”
“Every weekend?” she probes gently.
“Uh huh. Daddy wasn’t supposed to come get me on account of mama being sick, but he came anyway.” I don’t realize it, but I’m speaking like I’m explaining how my dog died.
She gets a look on her face and changes the subject. “So, aren’t you the lucky one, huh? Getting to go to Houston? Your mama and daddy must miss you something awful.”
“Yeah. I really wanted to go, and they made me promise I’d come home every weekend, and that’s why I’m there.”
“Did you meet anyone special, darlin’?” she asks, her eyes flashing with excitement for me.
