“Yes. I’m going to grab a nightgown and brush my teeth.”
“You can use my toothbrush.”
“I’ll just use my finger.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be right back and then I’ll get in bed with you and we’ll shut the door and we can sing a song if you want. Or we can read Madeline. Or we can just go to sleep.”
“And the witch won’t come in. The ratio is two to one.”
“Right, the witch won’t come in. The ratio is too big for the witch to get in.”
Sheba and Jimmy’s room was tidy and organized. Dr. and Mrs. Cone hadn’t managed to empty it, but they had managed to stack all their stuff in boxes pushed against one wall. The bed was made with a bright pink batik bedspread. There were mismatched nightstands on either side. One held the books I’d seen Jimmy reading in the banquette in the morning: Play It as It Lays and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. The other had hand cream and face cream. On the ceiling, over the bed, hung another pink batik bedspread. I wondered if Mrs. Cone had done that, or if Sheba had.
I took a few steps into the bathroom and looked around. There was a giant claw-foot tub and a separate walk-in shower. The tile was Tiddlywinks-size pink and black circles, like what I imagined might be in a diner in the 1950s. On the pink marble vanity a framed mirror lay flat, like a tray. Two perfume bottles and many face creams sat on the mirror tray. I picked up Chanel No. 5. I’d heard of it, but had never seen an actual bottle. I sprayed it on my wrists and sniffed. It didn’t smell like Sheba. The other bottle was cut glass with a stopper in it. I lifted the stopper and sniffed. That sort of smelled like Sheba, but not quite. I dipped the stopper and dabbed each of my wrists where I had sprayed the Chanel No. 5. I lifted my wrist to my nose. Now I smelled like Sheba. I sniffed again. Breathing in Sheba’s scent made the world momentarily fall away.
I left my Sheba-scented bubble and hurried to the walk-in closet. The bar on one side of the closet held Jimmy’s clothes. The bar on the other held Sheba’s. Her clothes were arranged by type: dresses, tops, jumpsuits, nightgowns, and robes. Within each group they were arranged by color, lightest to darkest, left to right. I ran my hand along everything, feeling the variegated textures—satin, silk, leather, cotton.
When I got to the nightgowns and robes, I pulled them out one by one. Some were so sexy—with see-through lace bra tops and thigh-high slits—that I was embarrassed looking at them. My sex addiction roared, tingling through my body, and I hushed it down sternly.
Even the not-as-sexy nightgowns were beautiful. I worried I’d disappoint Sheba and pick the wrong one. And then my hand stopped on a white nightgown with lace straps and lace on the hem. The cotton was so soft, it felt like thick water running between my fingertips. I took off my shorts, T-shirt, and bra right there in the closet, and slipped the nightgown over my head. The breast panels were baggy on me, but other than that it fit me well. The cotton was so smooth against my skin, I wanted to roll around on the ground just to feel it more.
I folded my clothes and carried them out of Sheba and Jimmy’s room and then down the stairs to the second floor. The shouting had stopped, and the conversational voices of the four grown-ups floated up like sound clouds. Also, the smell of marijuana wafted up. I wondered if Dr. and Mrs. Cone were smoking too. Or was it just Sheba and Jimmy?
I walked into Izzy’s room and shut the door behind me. It took a second for my eyes to adjust and see that Izzy was still awake, her glowing eyes flashing on me.
“Everyone’s calm,” I said. “They worked it all out.”
“Okay. Can we sleep now?”
“Yeah.” I climbed into bed. Izzy’s sheets were clean and stiff. We had washed and starch-ironed them only two days ago.
“I love you, Mary Jane.” Izzy scooted in closer to me and pushed her head between my breast and my armpit. She breathed deeply and slowly, as if she were releasing something from far inside her body.
“I love you too,” I whispered.
7
When I woke in the morning, I was surprised that I had slept so solidly and easily. At school we went on camping trips every year and I always came home exhausted and ready to sleep for a week straight. And when I slept at the twins’ house, we stayed up late and then got up early. But in Izzy Cone’s bed I slept better than I did in my own house.
Izzy was still pressed up against me, her mouth gaping open like a fish’s. Her thick eyelashes looked wet and shiny and her red curls were plastered behind her head. I slipped out of the bed slowly, carefully, and dressed in my OP shorts, bra, T-shirt, and flip-flops.