Something was ending. Even if it had been awful, my life was ending, and it felt like this wasn’t my life anymore. It was someone else’s. And I had decided that I’d just live inside it, see if anyone noticed, and maybe it would become mine. Maybe I would love it.
I’m just trying to say that I got something that I’d wished for. But I knew it wasn’t a happy ending, no matter what Madison thought, no matter how much she convinced herself that everything would work out fine. It was just an ending. And downstairs, there was a new beginning. And they were waiting for me. But I sat there in that attic, where I had never once been happy in my entire life. I sat there and I held on to this moment, before the new beginning started. I wondered how long I could stay in this moment. I wondered how many times in my life I’d come back to this room, to this exact moment in time. I wondered what I would feel, looking back on it.
I got out of bed. I put on some shorts, a ratty T-shirt with a Dominique Wilkins caricature silk-screened on it, the colors faded. I put on my basketball shoes, which I loved and had thought I might never see again. And under the bed, still there, was a basketball, the grip nearly worn off of it. There was a shitty court a few blocks away, weeds and no lines and not even a net on the hoop. But I wanted them to try, to get used to a life that could be all of ours.
Downstairs, Bessie and Roland were sitting on the sofa. Carl was building a house of cards for them, but it kept falling down. My mom was nowhere to be found, of course. I imagined she was already on her way to Tunica to gamble with the money Carl had given her.
“So you talked to her?” Carl asked, standing at attention.
“Yes,” I replied. I didn’t want to draw this out. I handed the phone to Carl. I gave him a hug, which I could tell he either did not like or did not expect. Either way, I just kind of hung on him for a second. “We were a pretty good team,” Carl said, looking sheepish.
I nodded. “Say bye to Carl, kiddos,” I said. And he was gone, out the door. I wondered if I’d ever see him again.
“What’s happening?” Bessie asked.
“Do you want to stay with me?” I asked them. “For good?”
“Yes,” they said without hesitation.
“You don’t have to,” I told them.
“Yes,” they said again. They were vibrating.
“It won’t be like at the estate,” I said. “It will not be fun all the time.”
“It wasn’t fun all the time there,” Roland said. “It was awful sometimes.”
“Well, then it’ll be like that now, too.”
They just nodded. They weren’t smiling, exactly. They had a kind of dazed look on their faces.
“Do you want us?” Bessie suddenly asked.
“What?” I replied. My heart stopped.
“Do you want us?” Bessie asked.
I wanted to say yes immediately, but it was unnerving, the way she was looking at me. I felt like she knew what was in my heart, even if I didn’t. And she wasn’t blinking.
“Yes,” I finally said. “I want both of you. I want to take care of you.”
And she didn’t smile. She didn’t say a word. She just stared at me. I could see her skin starting to get red, blotchy. I could feel the heat coming off her. I knew that if she caught on fire, I would pull her close to me. I would let it come.
But she didn’t catch on fire. Her skin paled; she took a breath.
“You do want us,” she finally said. “Yes, you do.”
“Let’s get out of this house,” I told them, holding up the basketball. We stood in the doorway, the whole world opening up before us. God, there was so much of it. We walked out of that house, and I led them toward whatever came next. I handed the ball to Bessie, and she bounced it on the sidewalk, that steady thump like a heartbeat.
Bessie had believed me. She knew that I wanted them, that I would always take care of them. And so I decided to believe her. I decided that this was the truth. It was this little fire. And I would hold on to it. And it would keep me warm. And it would never, ever go out.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to the following:
Julie Barer and everyone at the Book Group, especially Nicole Cunningham.
Zack Wagman, an amazing editor, and everyone at Ecco.
The University of the South and the English Department, with special gratitude to Wyatt Prunty.
The Corporation of Yaddo and the Hermitage at St. Mary’s for the time and space to write.
My family: Kelly and Debbie Wilson; Kristen, Wes, and Kellan Huffman; Mary Couch; Meredith, Warren, Laura, Morgan, and Philip James; and the Wilson, Fuselier, and Baltz families.