“What do you think we should say?” Nia asks quietly, sittin’ down beside me on the steps.
I shrug. The only thing I ain’t told Nia bout yet is Momma being at the treatment facility. “Have you talked to Momma since we been here?”
Nia shakes her head no. Looks like if Momma did call Nia on her birthday, Nia ain’t talk to her.
“Why not?”
This time, Nia shrugs. “I guess it was weird to talk to her since I ain’t wanna tell her bout what happened with Daddy. I was so mad at him, and it made her mad at me, I think.” I reach over and pat Nia’s knee to say, I understand. “And even if it wasn’t for that, I was mad at Momma, too. For leaving, you know?”
I nod. “Yeah, I was mad, too. But then, when I talked to her, I started feeling kinda different.”
“Different? Why?”
“Well, Momma ain’t been sounding like herself since we been here. I started thinking maybe something else was wrong with her, besides just being sad bout Daddy dying.”
“I don’t know, KB, I think Momma just sad—”
“There’s more,” I interrupt.
Nia laughs. “Of course there is. What else you got?”
“Well, one time I heard Granddaddy and Charlie talking,” I start quickly, “and I think they was talking bout Momma.”
“Mm-hmm,” Nia says, with a face like she trying not to laugh.
“I know, I know, I’m s’posed to stay outta grown folks’ conversation. But this was important!” I ignore Nia’s laughter and shaking head. “They was saying something bout Momma being in some kind of treatment. So, I asked Granddaddy bout it—”
“Wait, you talked to Granddaddy about this and not me?”
I lower my head and whisper, “Yeah.” Then louder: “I’m sorry, Nia, it was before we started talking again! I thought you would just say it was stupid and tell me to leave you alone.”
Nia wraps her arm around my shoulders and pulls me in close to her. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Keep going.” We smile at each other, quick, before I speak again.
“Granddaddy talked to me bout it, and told me that Momma needed some extra help right now, cause she been so sad. It’s more than just sad, though. He said Momma been depressed.”
I wait for Nia’s reaction cause I ain’t sure if she knows what it means. But the scared and shocked look on her face lets me know that she understands exactly. Probably even more than I do.
“Okay,” Nia eventually says, “I think we need a new plan.”
I stand up, quick. “Why? You don’t like my plan?”
“Shh!” Nia whispers, pulling me back down to the steps. “I do like your plan! It’s just . . . what if the best thing for us right now is staying, instead of trying to leave?”
I sit there for a while, thinking bout what Nia said. “But,” I stammer, “you don’t wanna be back with Momma again?”
Nia shakes her head. “Of course I do. But what if we ain’t have to leave?” Nia leans in closer. “What if instead of tryna get back home to Momma, we try to get Momma to come and live here with us, with Granddaddy?”
As soon as the words are out her mouth, a giant grin spreads cross my face. “Does that mean you like the new plan?” Nia asks, and I nod enthusiastically.
“I love the new plan,” I say, realizing for the first time how much I ain’t wanna leave Granddaddy. Maybe he started out like Marilla Cuthbert, but turns out, he was a Matthew all along. And the truth is, Marilla loved Anne, too. Some people just got a funny way of showing it.
“Okay,” Nia says, popping up, “I think we should start the plan tonight!”
“What we gon’ do?” I ask, standing up beside Nia. She starts to walk down the porch steps, and I follow.
“When we go to dinner,” Nia says, leaning up against my tree, “we should get Granddaddy talking about what happened with him and Momma. I bet if we can get him talking about it, he might realize that he’s been silly all these years for not talking to Momma.”
“But what if it’s Momma who ain’t been doin’ the talking?” I ask, thinking bout Granddaddy’s sad eyes when he told me bout the big fight.
“Even better!” Nia reaches down and picks up a tiny caterpillar from the base of the tree. “If Granddaddy is ready to talk, then all we gotta do is get Momma here.” Nia lets the caterpillar crawl over the back of her hand, then her palm.
“And how we gon’ do that?” I ask, once I get tired of watching.
“The same way we get Momma to do anything,” Nia says in a sneaky voice. “We just gotta make her think we need her; then, I bet she gon’ be here.”
“Okay,” I reply quietly.
“What, you don’t think it’s gon’ work?” Nia asks, hands on her hips.
I nod, even though I ain’t so sure. But it’s worth a try, especially if it’s gon’ make Nia happy, and maybe even make Momma and Granddaddy happy again, too. “But I think it’s one thing we gotta do first.”
“What’s that?” Nia asks.
I step away from the tree and dust dirt off the back of my shorts. “We gotta call Momma.”
Nia’s face wrinkles. “Why?” She crosses over to the post at the edge of the porch and leans against it, taking a bit of her hair between her fingers.
“Why you say it like that?” I ask. “You don’t wanna talk to Momma?”
“I mean, I do. Kinda.” Nia starts to chew her hair, which she only does when she’s nervous bout something. “It’s just . . . been awhile, you know?”
“I know!” I exclaim, jumping up excitedly. “That’s why we definitely gotta call! You ain’t talked to Momma all summer. I bet she gon’ be so happy to hear from you.”
“Okay,” Nia says, but her voice trails off like she ain’t convinced.
“Plus,” I continue, “it’s gon’ be the perfect way for us to get goin’ on the plan. Once we get Momma on the same page as us, it’s gon’ be easy to get Granddaddy on board!” I move closer to Nia, brushing my shoulder against hers. “Come on, Nia, don’t you miss Momma at all?”
“You know I miss Momma,” Nia says, pushing me away. “It’s just complicated.”
“It is complicated,” I say, scooting back close to Nia, this time forcing my arm around her shoulders. “And that’s exactly why we gotta talk. How else we gon’ get through it?”
“Okay, okay.” Nia sighs. “Let’s call Momma.”
I try to hide my giant smile as Nia opens the door and heads inside.
“There’s just one thing,” I say, once we get to the kitchen.
Nia turns to look at me and rolls her eyes. “What?”
Now that I got the old Nia back, I can’t help but laugh at her rolling her eyes and pretending to be mad. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I squeal. “It’s just that I ain’t sure if Granddaddy wanted me to tell you bout the treatment facility. So let me be the one to ask him to call.”