“We can take the quilt with us, honey.” Sandy stuck her hand out, getting ready to do something stupid. Only Kellen and me got to touch Wavy. And she could hit hard. Boy, I didn’t want to see that.
“Don’t touch her,” I said.
“Wha?” Sandy was kinda stoned so she was being silly.
Wavy stood up and Sandy started to fold her quilt.
“No,” Wavy said. When Sandy didn’t stop, Wavy said it loud: “NO.”
“You don’t want to take your quilt?”
“It’s not her quilt,” I said. Grandma, who I didn’t remember, made the quilt for Wavy, but I knew the rule. Nothing belongs to you. I knew the rule, but I didn’t like it. My stuff was mine, like the pocketknife Uncle Sean gave me. If somebody tried to take it, I’d sock them.
Sandy put the quilt back on the bed and took the other stuff to the car.
First thing, when we got down the hill, I showed Wavy the puppies in the garage. It was okay for animals to touch her. She petted them and let them crawl on her lap.
I wanted to light firecrackers, but it was getting hot outside, so I said, “Let’s go watch TV.” That was something else we didn’t have at the farmhouse. Wavy had her little TV with rabbit ears, but Sandy’s trailer had satellite.
Only when we went inside, Daddy and Kellen and Butch were there.
“Hey, come here, kiddo,” Daddy said. Then he saw Wavy.
He yelled, “Sandy! Sandy!” until she came. She musta been in the shower, because she had a towel on her head.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” Sometimes I thought Daddy couldn’t see Wavy, but he pointed at her.
“But you said you wanted the kids to move down here. You—”
“I said, ‘The kid.’ Donal. Not her.”
“You—what do you want me to do?” Sandy said.
“Get her out of here. Take her back up to the farmhouse.”
“I’ll take her,” Kellen said.
After Wavy left, I didn’t want it to be fun living at Daddy’s. It wasn’t fair if I had fun and she didn’t. But there were puppies, and then Daddy bought me a motorbike and taught me how to ride it. Anyways, Wavy didn’t really want to live there, and I still got to see her. Sometimes she came with Kellen, and sometimes she snuck in to see me. Some mornings, before anybody else woke up, I went across the meadow to the farmhouse. That was the best.
13
KELLEN
Plenty of times I’d wanted to beat the crap out of Liam, but never as bad as I did when he told Wavy to get out. Her whole face went blank, and stayed that way until we walked out to the front drive. She scowled when she saw the Willys.
“The bike’s at the shop,” I said. “I got tired of it being dinged up. We’ll have to ride in the truck for a while.”
Wavy shuffled her feet, but she let me take her hand and help her up into the truck.
“You know, this is Old Man Cutcheon’s truck. Good truck. Plus, it’s the same age as his son. He thinks that’s good luck. He sold this to me a couple years ago, when his grandkid was born, and bought himself that new Ford. He’s still proud of this Willys, though. Says it’s never broke down on him.”
She knew all about the truck; I was only trying to fill up the quiet.
“You wouldn’t want to live down at the trailers anyway. It’s noisy and they smoke. Makes the place stink. You wouldn’t like that.”
When I turned to go up the road to the farmhouse, she said, “No.”
I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to go up there. Val laid up in bed, with a nurse there—some stranger. I turned around and drove the route we took around the lake on the bike, but it wasn’t the same in the truck. I was sorry I’d sold the Barracuda, even though I made good money on it. Piss poor timing on my part. Once we reached the Powell city limits, there were only two options: my house or the shop.
“Is there somewhere you want to go, Wavy?”
After a second, she pointed at me.
“Yeah, we can go to my house.”
“Live with you,” she said.
“You can’t live with me.”
She pretty much had been while Val was in the hospital. That had to end now.
I didn’t know what else to say, so I drove to my place and pulled into the carport. Wavy sagged back in her seat, staring out the windshield at the faded asbestos siding on the garage. She looked so small and tired, like my ma before she died.
“It’s not me, Wavy. Other people wouldn’t like you living with me, since I’m not your family. Maybe you could go live with your aunt. They’re your family.”
It made a kinda sense, but that was about the last thing I wanted. Tulsa was a long drive, and the way her aunt looked at me, it wasn’t like I’d be able to visit Wavy there. But maybe things would be better for her without me. Maybe she could have a regular life with good people.
“Well, what if we…” I racked my brain trying figure out something. There was the spare bedroom. I could put the weight bench out in the garage. Get a bed in there. Except it didn’t fix the real problem. Her living with me.
“Get married,” she said. Had she heard what Liam said at the hospital? Man, I hoped she didn’t believe that crap about me messing around with Val.
“If who got married?” I said.
She pointed at me and, in that slow way she had, brought her finger back to her chest.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Not because I thought it was funny, but because I was shocked. She looked right through me, like I wasn’t there. She wasn’t joking, and I wished I could take it back.