Eleanor set about teaching Mother the basics of life. That’s what she said: the basics of life. Apparently I already knew the basics of life because she insisted I not do things like laundry, so Mother could be a mother. One time I found Mother out back in the sun, pinning my socks to the clothesline. I sat on the steps and watched her. A gentle breeze swirled her summer dress and I realized that a part of me wanted so badly to let her take care of me. But my heart couldn’t let go.
One day, as the three of us rocked on the porch, Eleanor Rose said, “We need to see about getting Ruby Clyde in school.”
“School!” I cried. Bunny rocked his head up at my distress, then lolled back onto the floorboards.
“Yes, Ruby Clyde. We have schools here. Just down the road toward Johnson City.”
I hadn’t thought of that. And I do, so hard, try to think of everything.
“But it’s still summer. I feel like school just let out.” School hadn’t actually let out for me. It was about to let out when they dragged me out of bed and across the country in the middle of the night.
“They start up the last week of August,” she said.
“It’s not August,” I said.
“Yes it is,” she said.
“I don’t wanna,” I revolted. “What would I do with Bunny while I’m at school?” At that Bunny rolled up on his haunches and waited for the answer.
“I don’t care.” Eleanor Rose resisted his charms. She turned to Mother and said, “Barbara, as a mother, do you want to step in here?”
Mother had never had a hand in my schooling before, but she looked at me and said, “Eleanor is right. I should have thought of it myself. You need to go to school.”
“But I need to help around here,” I begged.
Mother rocked back and forth, twice, then said, “You want to help. You can go to school.”
Aunt Eleanor smiled as big a smile as I have ever seen from her. It almost burst out of the little square nun hat. She said, “Registration is next week. We’ll need to get Ruby Clyde’s health records. Are her shots up-to-date?”
Mother wouldn’t have known that. Grandmother always took me to the doctor.
“Certainly you had her vaccinated. Barbara? Tell me you’ve had this child vaccinated.” Then she turned to me and asked if I had been in public school.
I had.
“Good, then she has had all of her shots. We just need to get the records. Who was your doctor?”
But I knew Mother wouldn’t know that. I hardly remembered the place Grandmother had taken me.
“The school nurse back home is my friend. She helped me after Grandmother died. I bet she has all my information.” But it felt weird to say back home. It had long since quit feeling like home.
Eleanor turned to Mother and instructed her to locate the number of the school nurse and call to request my records. “If you need help, let me know. But I think you can do it yourself.”
“When you talk to the nurse,” I said, “would you tell her I said hi and that I’m okay and ask her to tell my friend Bunny that I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye?”
“Of course,” Mother said, then she rocked rocked rocked, and cleared her throat. “Ruby Clyde, I need to say something.”
“Okay.” I waited.
“I am sorry, deeply sorry for everything. I should never have let this happen to you.”
“Okay,” I said, a little embarrassed by her feelings and also for mine. But still, I was glad she said it.