Tuesday, February 17, 2015
Itasca, Minnesota
When Cecily looked up from where her name was printed on the plastic bracelet around her thin wrist—hers? this old, liver-spotted thing?—and saw Liz and Molly standing there, brows knit, eyes pinched, she felt sorry for them more than for herself. Waking up in this steel bed, to this view of the ice-rimmed river and flat gray sky, felt like a bit of an adventure—a break in the routine, so to speak. Though that might have been the painkillers talking.
“I don’t want you girls to worry,” she said, even as she wondered what time it was. The sky gave no indication. Was it even still the same day? “I’ll be right as rain before you know it.”
Then, Liz announced that Cecily was going to have to go straight from the hospital to The Pines—the rehab center on the edge of town—on Monday. “Dr. Olson’s staff has already made the arrangements.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m going home.”
“You can’t go home, Mom. You won’t be able to walk on your own, let alone climb up and down stairs. You’re going to need rest, and lots of physical therapy.”
The painkillers made Cecily want to laugh. Or cry. “Then Molly and Caden can move in and help me.” Why had she been so stubborn on that point? Wanting independence for Molly, yes—but mostly for herself. If she hadn’t been so stubborn, maybe this stupid accident wouldn’t have happened—
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” Molly said, “but you’re going to need real nurses’ care. At least for a while.”
If Molly said it, then it was true. Molly would’ve done anything for her, Cecily knew.
So much for a grand adventure. She let her eyes drift closed, a dream cascade down.
It was three days later when the man came back for Cecily, during breakfast time. She had no warning at all. Mrs. H. just came into the dining room with a small yellow sweater and Cecily’s little suitcase in hand—how did Cecily even recognize it? It had been in storage for so long—and said it was time to go.
Cecily felt the words like a kick to the stomach. She’d been trying so hard to be good! Hadn’t God noticed?
She was through trying now. She shoved her bowl away, the last precious bites of Cream of Wheat. “No,” she said.
Mrs. H. tapped her toe. A hush fell over the dining room, as seventy orphans realized what was happening.
“Cecily,” said Mrs. H.
Cecily folded her arms, pushed out her lip. “No. I won’t go.”
Dolores and Flip were watching with wide eyes, half-open mouths. Though everyone knew who was going to win.
Mrs. H. came and grabbed Cecily’s elbow, pulling her up to stand. She wrestled Cecily’s arms into the yellow sweater, which Cecily knew wasn’t hers, had never been. She wanted to cry out, but didn’t. She wouldn’t give Mrs. H. the satisfaction.
So, she just hadn’t been good enough to suit God. (You have only yourself to blame, Mrs. H. always said, when doling out any punishment.)
Mrs. H. brushed her hands together, then grabbed Cecily’s arm again, hard enough to hurt. “Dolores, Frank,” she said, “you may come say goodbye to Cecily at the door.”
Cecily tried to yank her arm free, but couldn’t. Dolores started to cry. Mrs. H. began marching Cecily toward the exit, and Dolores and Flip scampered up to follow. Cecily could feel their presence behind her, though there was a rushing in her ears and she wanted to scream. She bit her lip and didn’t. The sweater smelled funny, like it had been at the back of some closet for a long, long time.
Near the front door in the high-ceilinged foyer stood the man in the gleaming black topcoat. He was holding his derby hat, turning it round and round in his hands. He smiled when he saw them. “Ah, good!” he said.
Mrs. H. yanked Cecily to a stop before him. “She’s a bit sad about leaving her friends, I’m afraid. We don’t discourage them from getting attached to one another, though perhaps we should.”
Cecily found her voice. “Mrs. H., this isn’t fair! You can’t make me go! My mother’s coming back for me, and I promised I wouldn’t leave Dolores an’ Flip!”
The man laughed like she was a puppy who couldn’t walk straight yet, and Mrs. H. shook her head. “Cecily, this is for the best. You’ll see. Now, say your goodbyes.”
Cecily scrunched her eyes closed. What choice did she have? She could yell and scream for hours, and Mrs. H. wouldn’t budge. Cecily knew this from experience.
The man was handing Mrs. H. an envelope, telling her she’d find the whole amount inside, and Mrs. H. was looking in it, counting.
She’s selling me. The realization fell on Cecily like a sack of flour, with a dull thud.
Then, she wondered how much she was worth.
Enough that Mrs. H. definitely wasn’t going to change her mind, seemed like, from the way she was giving the man the biggest smile Cecily had ever seen on Mrs. H.’s face in going on three years now.
All right, then, Cecily thought.
She turned to face Dolores and Flip. Even Flip had tears in his eyes, and Dolores was biting her pinkie nail. Cecily pulled them into a close huddle. She could smell the Cream of Wheat on their breaths, feel the heat of their tears steaming off their skin.
“I’ll come back for you,” she whispered. “I’ll find some way.”
Dolores lowered her hand and sniffed, but her voice was firm: “No. You won’t.”
Flip gave Dolores a slow blink.
“I will, too!” Cecily objected.
Dolores shook her head. “No. Somethin’ big’s gonna happen to you. I don’t know what. But you’re not comin’ back here. Not ever.”
Cecily wanted to shout every curse word she knew straight into Dolores’s face, and tell her once and for all that she did not know everything! How dare she accuse Cecily of being faithless? Of not sticking to her promises?
Flip straightened, wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “To heck with ya, then!” he said, with an angry frown, and Cecily flinched—then saw by the tremor in his lip that he was only trying to be brave.
“Time to go, Cecily,” said Mrs. H. “You have a train to catch.”
Cecily exchanged electric glances with her friends. A train?
“Goddamn!” Flip said.
All right. She had to be brave, too. Around the world in eighty days. Starting with a train!
She grabbed Flip’s hand, then Dolores’s, too. “I’m not gonna forget you two, I swear it. If my mother comes, tell her I never gave up. Tell her I said she should take you both home, and then I’ll find you, I’ll find all of you, I swear I will!”
“Sure, it’s all gonna come up roses,” Flip said, but he was blinking back tears again, and Dolores was full-on crying without making a sound. Mrs. H. took Cecily by the shoulders and yanked her backward, pulling her hands from her friends’, then turned her around to face the man in the topcoat, who was holding Cecily’s suitcase. He opened the door to the outside world, and Mrs. H. gave her a little shove.
And she was gone.