In my room, long after I was settled under the covers, I thought about Buddy and his kiss, and each time my stomach folded over on itself like I was putting beaten egg white into a batter.
“I should have kissed him, straight up,” I said to my darkened room. My eyes grew heavy.
A breeze, light as a breath, moved the curtains. Pushed them away from the window like someone wanted to sneak in.
It had been a good day.
A long day.
A tiring day.
With Aunt Odie starting and almost ending it.
My aunt.
Who took care of us.
Then when me and Momma moved in with JimDaddy, Aunt Odie bought the first house that went up for sale on the street and moved there.
My aunt close.
Too sleepy to open my eyes.
Her auntie Doris no longer a Messenger.
Sounds from down the hall.
In Indiana where maybe no one believed in the dead helping you out.
And JimDaddy melancholy all the time. I didn’t know that till right now. And Baby Lucy. And my daddy died when I was just two and Momma and me with Aunt Odie till Momma met up again with my stepfather on a dating website and there was a light in the room. Bouncing, fluttering like Tinker Bell. Pausing at the closet. Moving close to where I lay in bed. Right by my face.
Then.
Sleep.
And
that
low
cry
sad enough to peel paint off the walls.