Dee Dee carries two plastic cups into Gypsy’s room, one full of water, the other brimming with her daughter’s nightly cocktail of pills. Gypsy is already in bed, the covers pulled up to her armpits. She wears her frilly white hat with the tassels hanging down like outsize earrings.
“You’re too damn old to be sleeping in that thing,” Dee Dee complains.
“It keeps me warm.”
“It’s plenty warm in here.”
“Not like that. It keeps my brain warm. It keeps me from having nightmares.”
“It’s your meds that do that,” Dee Dee says. “Now sit up.”
Gypsy obeys. Dee Dee sets the cups on the night table, stands with her arms folded. Gypsy reaches for the pills, then stops.
“Mama?” she asks.
“Yes, Gypsy?”
“How long’s it gonna be this way?”
“What way is that?”
“You know what way. When am I ever gonna be better?”
Dee Dee’s tone softens.
“You already are better,” she says. “You just can’t see it yet.”
“I mean all the way better. Like other people.”
Dee Dee sits on the edge of the bed, rests her hand on the blanket over Gypsy’s stomach.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says. “Don’t you know this is what makes you so special? You got it harder than most folks, that’s true. But that’s where your strength comes from. That’s why you appreciate life so much more than other people.”
Gypsy strikes the headboard hard with her elbows.
“But I hate my life,” she says. “And I don’t wanna be special. I don’t want any of this shit.”
Dee Dee stands back up, glares down.
“I got news for you, little girl. The world don’t care what you want. No one chooses their life. You think I want any of this? You think if I’d known how things would be, I’d have brought you into this world? But you were born, and I ain’t never turned my back on you. Not for a heartbeat. So how about you show some goddamn gratitude? And another thing: swear like that again in front of me and I’ll take a belt to your scrawny ass. I’m your mother. Don’t you ever forget that. Now swallow those pills and give me a moment’s peace.”
Gypsy’s eyes are burning, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she places the pills one at a time under her tongue until her mouth is nearly full, then drains the cup of water. Satisfied, Dee Dee turns and walks out of the room, shutting the light on her way.
Alone, Gypsy rolls onto her side, spits the pills into the palm of her hand. She wraps them up in a Kleenex, tucks the Kleenex under her mattress.
She listens to make sure her mother isn’t lurking outside, then pulls back the covers, sits up, reaches over, and switches on her computer. She slides from her bed to her wheelchair, makes her way over to the dresser, opens the bottom drawer. The glow from the monitor gives her just enough light to see by. Smiling to herself, she digs out a calico dress, a hooped skirt, and a blue satin bonnet.
Little Bo Peep: her favorite costume. It bothers her that she doesn’t have the cane, but then she’ll be sitting anyway—at least most of the time. She takes off her hat, ties the bonnet in place, slips the dress and skirt on over her pajamas. When she’s done, she wheels herself back to the computer.
She giggles quietly as she switches over to a private window, then types in the Christian Couples URL. Nicholas’s avatar shows that he isn’t online. Gypsy sends him a quick message:
Need help finding my sheep!
She waits. No response. She reaches back to the bed, takes up a stuffed lamb with a black face and gray cotton fleece, and tucks it under her arm. Nicholas will like this touch, she thinks.
It’s getting dark! she writes. I’m scared!
As she types, she realizes that her heart is beating hard and her forehead is perspiring.
I really am scared, she thinks.
Of what? Not of Nicholas. He’s been so kind. He sends her emoji flowers and chocolates. He says he will take her to Australia. More than anyplace in the world, she wants to visit the Outback. She saw pictures in a National Geographic at the doctor’s office.
No, she’s afraid that he won’t show up. That she will sit there alone staring at the camera light on her computer until the sun comes up. She’s afraid of having no one to talk to but her mother and doctor and all the people who want to fix her. She’s afraid that Nicholas will want to fix her, too.
She types:
Helloooo?? Are you there???
But before she can hit Send, a green dot appears under Nicholas’s picture, and then the picture is gone, and it’s Nicholas himself smiling at her. He’s wearing an eye patch and a pirate’s hat, and there’s a plastic cockatoo perched on his shoulder.