I turned and went home.
But the flame still burned, quietly.
For now.
CHAPTER 45
“What are you doing?”
Junie spun away from my bed, where she’d had her arm stuffed up to her shoulder between my mattress and the box spring. She hid her hand behind her back. Junie never came in my room, not without me in it. But then I remembered she went in Dad’s office.
Maybe she sneaked everywhere.
“Show me,” I demanded, the cool of the tunnels having firmed up my sedated edges.
She produced her fist, eyes lowered. She opened her hand to reveal a brown glass bottle with a yellow label. “I had a headache,” she said defensively.
The ground shivered beneath me, and I grabbed the doorjamb for support. The Anacin bottle held the pills I’d stolen from Mrs. Hansen. If she’d taken them . . .
“Give me those.”
She walked them over meekly. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t find any aspirin in the medicine cabinet.”
“So you looked under my mattress?”
She appeared pained. “I looked everywhere. My head hurts. I ate too much ice cream at Libby’s.”
“When’d they drop you off?” I asked, leading her down the hall and into the bathroom.
“About ten minutes ago. Dad’s in his office. He told me not to bother him, so I came up here. You were gone.”
“So you looked under my mattress,” I repeated. I opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed the bottle of Bayer chewables, and handed it to her. I wanted her to admit that she’d been searching for my diary, but she just took the aspirin bottle, tapped two into her palm, and ate them without saying anything.
My mouth watered like it did every time I thought of that flavor, orange and sour. Maybe that’s how Anacin tasted, and that’s why Ed chewed it. Maybe it wasn’t really bitter, and Dad had lied about that, too. Suddenly, I wanted my mom so bad it was like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t care what shape she was in, that other than a blip here and there, it had been years since she’d mothered me. I needed her.
“I think I’m going to the hospital,” I said. “To visit Mom. You want to come with?”
“You don’t look so good,” Junie said, digging some aspirin out of her back teeth. “You sure?”
“I’m sure,” I said.
I hurried to my room to grab my hospital-approved slippers. Junie followed.
“I don’t want to go,” she said.
“You don’t have to, but I don’t want you here alone.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t.” I couldn’t tell her that I no longer trusted Dad. “I’ll walk you back to Libby’s.”
“They’re going to Duluth. They won’t be home.”
“Fine. I’m dropping you off at Claude’s.”
She stomped away, which gave me a chance to move my diary, Maureen’s journal, and the manila envelope containing the photos to a spot she’d never find: under a loose floorboard beneath my end table. I’d have stored them there in the first place if it weren’t so hard to get to. I tossed in the Anacin bottle, too. I’d flush the pills when I got home.
Claude met us on his front porch. It was awkward, seeing him for the first time since he’d confessed he’d seen the Polaroid of me, but I didn’t have a choice. I pushed Junie toward him.
“Can I talk to you?” he asked, stepping away from the porch as Junie stepped onto it.
I was surprised he wanted to. “What about?” I asked crossly. “You want to yell at me about something else that’s none of your beeswax?”
“Junie, Mom’s making chicken and mashed potatoes,” he called over his shoulder, “if you want to go in and help.”
She disappeared through the screen door, and he pulled a small pink box from the front pocket of his button-down shirt.
I felt a ridiculous urge to run. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing at it.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He smelled clean as a cucumber, like he’d just taken a shower. His dark hair curled at his collar, still wet. “I’m sorry that I was so weird at work, and then mean at church. I’m sorry Maureen is gone and now—” He looked up the street, his mouth working. “Now Brenda is, too.”
I nodded. It was unnerving how Pantown held the shape of me, the outline of who I was. As long as I stayed in the neighborhood, I was whole. I always assumed I’d be nothing, no one, if I ever left it. Was that just another one of Pantown’s lies?