“Yes.”
“Chemo,” my mother said.
“I don’t know. They don’t tell me.”
“I’ll drive up and bring you an overnight bag with a nightgown and a toothbrush.”
“Dr. Cone gave me one of Mrs. Cone’s clean nightgowns. And he gave me a brand-new toothbrush and my own tube of toothpaste, too.” When my best friends slept over, my mother asked them to bring their own toothpaste, as she didn’t think it was sanitary for people to slide their brushes over the same spot on the tube.
“But what will you wear tomorrow?”
“I need to throw a load of wash in the laundry anyway.”
“Because of the vomit?”
“Yes.”
“Add just a couple of tablespoons of bleach to help sanitize everything.”
“Okay.”
“It won’t bleach your clothes if you use less than a quarter cup.”
“Okay.” I heard muffled yelling and covered the mouthpiece with my hand, shut my eyes, and prayed again. God must have heard, because my mother didn’t seem to.
“How was the chicken?”
“They loved it. They said it was the best meal they’d ever had.” Finally I could speak the truth.
“Very good, dear. I’m glad you succeeded with that.”
“Mom, I’ve got to go. I have to take care of Izzy.”
“I understand. I’ll see you tomorrow at the end of the day.”
“Okay. Good night, Mom.”
“Good night. And remember, just two tablespoons of bleach. And look closely at the labels on their clothes before you put anything in the dryer.”
“I will.”
“And you know to clean the lint filter before each dryer load, right?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Okay, Mary Jane. Good night.” My mother hung up before I could respond.
I pushed the quilt down and breathed in the cool, clean air. Then I rolled out of the bed and returned the phone to the nightstand.
I paused in the hallway. The voices were calmer now. Sheba and Jimmy weren’t yelling. And even Dr. Cone’s voice sounded less grumbly. I wanted to make sure that Dr. and Mrs. Cone were okay with me spending the night. And maybe I could borrow a nightgown from Mrs. Cone. I had laundered two of them earlier in the day.
Mrs. Cone’s voice floated for a second before Sheba started up again. I moved to the top of the stairs and slowly made my way down. My legs were watery and my heart felt like a Slinky flipping down an endless staircase inside my chest.
As I approached the living room, the four of them looked up at me. Sheba was on the couch. Her wig was off and her face was streaked with black mascara. Dr. Cone was sitting in the leather chair. He looked calm but still had that half-angry scowl. Jimmy sat on the floor, his head resting on the coffee table. And Mrs. Cone was beside Sheba on the couch. Her wig was still on. Surrounding them, on the floor, the table, the couch, everywhere I could see, were all the books from the shelves. Izzy and I had been discussing alphabetizing the bookshelves but hadn’t started yet. I had a moment of thinking that maybe this disshelving would make that task easier.
“Uh, Izzy wants me to stay with her tonight. She’s scared.”
“Excellent idea,” Dr. Cone said.
“May I borrow a nightgown?”
“Absolutely!” Mrs. Cone started to stand up, but Sheba took her hand and pulled her back down to the couch.
“Mary Jane,” Sheba said very seriously. “Go in my and Jimmy’s room, go in the closet, and find the prettiest nightgown you see. Whatever one you like, you can have. But you have to choose the prettiest one. Do you understand? It’s very important that you take the best nightgown there. Can you do that?”
“I think so.” I wanted to ask which one was the best, but I knew I was inserting myself, interrupting, and if I didn’t leave the room soon, an emotional explosion might happen right before me.
“Good. Only the best one.”
“Okay. Good night.” I turned to walk away.
“Good night, Mary Jane,” Sheba said.
“Good night, Mary Jane,” Mrs. Cone said.
“Good night, Mary Jane,” Dr. Cone said.
And then Jimmy shouted, “Mary Jane, you are a saint and I fucked up! I’m a stupid fucking shit—”
Before he could say more, Sheba was outyelling him. I rushed up the stairs, my heart thumping, and hurried into Izzy’s room.
Izzy sat up. “Did your mom say yes?” Her eyes were like night-lights, catching the glow from the streetlamp outside her window.