“Junior Bledsoe!” I said. “What in the wide world are you doing here?”
Junior looked a little confused. The first words out of his mouth were, “Ann Fay, I thought you was learning to walk. What are you doing in that thing?”
He wanted to know what I was doing. I wanted to know what he was doing. We just stared at each other and waited for who knows what to come along and make sense of this whole thing.
Then I heard Gavin’s voice. “Thanks for the game, Ann Fay.” And off he rolled.
“Who was that?” asked Junior.
“Oh, just somebody,” I said. “He lives here too. Like all these people.” I tried to sound as offhand about it as I could. So Junior wouldn’t think that me playing table tennis with a boy meant something.
But he seemed more concerned about me being in a wheelchair than who I was with. “Are you getting better or not?” he asked.
I realized he was worried. “Stop fretting,” I said. “This isn’t my chair. I just borrowed it. Wanna see me walk?” Then I showed him how I could walk a short way without canes. At the end I grabbed on to Junior and he steadied me.
“Ann Fay! That’s good. Really good! You’re actually walking.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I reckon I am.” I sat back down in the wheelchair to catch my breath. “So why did you come, Junior? Is everything okay at home?”
“Can we sit someplace?”
“Well, sure.” I wheeled my chair toward the fountain between Georgia Hall and the colonnade. There was an iron bench under a tree and we went there. I didn’t want to be in the wheelchair anymore, so I moved to the bench beside Junior.
He looked around. “This place is dandy. Do you really live here?”
I pointed to Kress Hall. “That’s my dormitory there. I have a roommate and we have our own bathroom. Just for the two of us. What do you think of that?”
“I think you probably won’t say it’s finer in North Carolina. That’s what I think. I hope you’re not getting too big for your britches.”
“Is that what you came here to talk about? How’s everything back home?”
“Peggy Sue is the same as always. And my momma too.”
“And my family?”
“The girls are growing like kudzu.”
Junior had come to Georgia for a reason, but now he was circling the block a few times before he got around to telling me what it was. I grabbed his shirtsleeve. “And Momma? Daddy?”
Junior shuffled his feet a little. And then he pulled his pocketknife out, opened it up, and started cleaning his fingernails. “Your daddy’s still working.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
He didn’t say anything more, just folded his knife and put it away. He sat there staring at his brown shoes. He reached down and wiped some dirt off the tips. And for some reason I knew it was too early to feel relieved.
“Junior, you didn’t drive all the way down here to tell me my daddy is working.”
“Well, Ann Fay, something just don’t seem right.”
“What do you mean? Like what?”
Junior looked around the quad. “Don’t you want to show me around this place?” He pointed toward the pool. “What’s that fancy building down there?”
I twisted his sleeve. “Just tell me what you come here for.”
“Well, okay then.” Suddenly the words came out of Junior in a big rush. “Your momma and daddy wasn’t at church last Sunday and we didn’t hear nothing out of them all week. So this morning before church I went by your house to check on them. I’m sure your momma wouldn’t have shown her face if I hadn’t seen her in the yard before she could get back inside.”
“Why on earth wouldn’t my momma want to see you, Junior?”
“I don’t think she wanted me to see her.”
“But why?”
“On account of—on account of—Ann Fay, she had a black eye. It looked like it’s been there for a while, which is probably why they didn’t make it to church on Sunday.”
“A black eye? What happened?”
Junior looked at me then. “What do you think happened?” he said. Like he knew the answer but was giving me a quiz to see if I could come up with it. The only reason I could think of for anyone to have a black eye was if someone else hit him. Or her.
And then all of a sudden I realized what Junior was saying. Or not saying.
“Junior Bledsoe, what are you trying to say?” I balled up my fist and socked him in the arm. “Don’t you even think it!”
Junior pulled away from me, but I socked him again.
“My daddy is not that kind of person! He would never hit my momma! Do you hear me, Junior Bledsoe?”
I pounded on his arm until he turned and grabbed my fist and held it away from him. That just made me madder.
I tried to twist out of his grip, but he wouldn’t let me go. I could feel myself starting to cry. “My daddy is a good man. He would not hit anybody, Junior, and you know it. My momma fell or something. My daddy is a good man!” Right then I hated Junior Bledsoe.
“Well, Ann Fay,” he said, “the way I see it, you’re a good person too, but you’re beating on me. It don’t change who you are. It’s just how you feel that’s making you hit me.”
That sure stopped me cold. I didn’t hit Junior again or try to get loose from him. I just sat there with the smell of pine trees and wisteria in the air and knew that the beauty of Warm Springs was slipping away. It was a fairy tale after all.
On the outside of this campus, up the road from this enchanted forest, was a real world of dirt and tears. And now it was pushing in on me.
Junior held me while I cried. “Your momma has been talking to mine. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, Ann Fay.”
My mind just couldn’t take it in. I kept seeing my daddy coming into the kitchen and taking Momma into his arms—right when she was in the middle of baking pies. Or they’d be on the front porch and she’d be fixing to sit in her favorite rocking chair, but he’d pull her onto his lap instead.
I almost started arguing with Junior all over again. But then, for some reason, the sighing of the pine trees reminded me of my momma. So I didn’t. I just grabbed on to my little wooden Comfort and listened.
“I didn’t want to tell you. But I knew you’d never forgive me if I let it go on.”
Junior was right, of course—he had to tell me. But what could I do about it? Especially from down here in Warm Springs. Then it hit me. Junior hadn’t come to tell me. He had come to get me.
I could’ve hit him again. But I didn’t. “No!” I said. “I can’t leave here. You can’t make me go, Junior.”
He didn’t argue with me. He just squeezed my hand and waited. I sat there on that cold bench and all of a sudden I started shivering. The Georgia sun had disappeared off to the west someplace. And the breeze felt chilly.
I wanted in the worst way to slide into the warm water down at the pool. To think about some tiny muscles that I didn’t know I had before I got to Warm Springs. To count while I exercised. To focus on getting strong so I could face the real world again.
I wasn’t strong enough yet. I had only learned to take a few baby steps. And now I was supposed to jump up and run home? I just didn’t think I could do it. I sat there for a long time and stared at the water shooting up from the fountain.
After a while people started coming out of Georgia Hall—rolling past us with their wheelchairs, calling out to each other about who was going to play bridge that night, laughing over one thing or another. Across the yard I heard Olivia calling to Gavin, “I’ll let you know when I find out.” I figured they were talking about me, wondering who Junior was and why was I crying.
That’s when I realized I couldn’t send Junior home and go back to playing rook and table tennis with my friends. Warm Springs was a shiny bubble that had already been popped.
“I have to talk to Mr. Botts,” I said. I reached for the wheelchair and got myself into it. Junior started pushing me and I let him. The only thing I did was point the way to Mr. Botts’s office. But it was Sunday, so of course he wasn’t in. I had to find someone who could get a message to him.
It wasn’t long until he was right there in front of me. His wheelchair was so close our toes were almost touching. I didn’t even think about introducing him to Junior.
“I have to leave,” I said.
Mr. Botts leaned forward and looked into my face. “What’s going on?”
But I couldn’t tell him the truth. It was too hard for me to believe it, and I wasn’t going to go telling stories about something I hadn’t seen with my own two eyes.
“My momma needs me,” was all I could say.
“You should get some sleep before making any decisions,” said Mr. Botts. “Things will look different in the morning.”
“I wouldn’t be able to sleep,” I said. “If we leave now, we can be there by morning.”
“You want to leave right now?”
Of course I didn’t. Sometimes I thought I never wanted to leave. I felt safe at Warm Springs. Like being at a second home. But then again, how could such a big fine place be my home?
But I didn’t tell Mr. Botts what I was thinking. I just said, “I have to go pack.”
Mr. Botts shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ann Fay, I can’t let you go tonight.” He turned to Junior. “My name is Fred Botts,” he said.
Junior shook his hand, but he didn’t even tell Mr. Botts his name.
“And you are—?”
“Junior Bledsoe. I’m Ann Fay’s neighbor.”
Mr. Botts looked at me like he wanted some proof. “Junior’s the one who watched after us during the war,” I said. “If you can’t trust him, you can’t trust nobody.”
Mr. Botts nodded slowly, but I could see he wasn’t taking my word for it, and not Junior’s either. “Did Ann Fay’s parents send a letter requesting her release?”
“No, sir,” said Junior. “The situation at home just doesn’t allow for it.”
I tried to help him explain. “My momma wouldn’t want to disturb my treatment here.” I stopped there and took a breath. I didn’t want to say the next part, but I had to because I could see how things must look suspicious with Junior just showing up and me wanting to run off with him. “My daddy is hurting her. So he’s not going to write the letter.” I started crying then.
“I’m so sorry,” said Mr. Botts. But I couldn’t tell if he actually believed me. “I know you’re upset, but we can’t fix one thing by breaking another. We’ve got to go through proper procedures to release you.” He looked at Junior. “You’re saying Ann Fay’s parents don’t know that you’ve come for her?”
Junior’s nose started twitching. This was getting to be more complicated than either one of us had imagined.
Mr. Botts tapped the arm of his wheelchair as he spoke. “We can see Dr. Bennett about this in the morning. Perhaps he will sign a release. But first I will need to speak with one of Ann Fay’s parents on the telephone.”
I just can’t tell you the agitation that was building inside of me while I listened to Mr. Botts talking about procedures. As if doing things in the proper order was the only thing that mattered!
Junior spoke up. “Sir, Ann Fay’s family doesn’t have a telephone. There would be no way to reach her mother.”
Mr. Botts squinted. I could see this news did not make him feel any better about letting Junior Bledsoe drive off with me in his car. “There must be a neighbor with a telephone,” Mr. Botts finally said. “Your family, perhaps. Could I speak with your parents?”
“Junior’s daddy is dead,” I said. “And his momma doesn’t have a phone. We always use the Hinkle sisters’ phone, but they don’t know anything about my family’s problems. Please believe me, Mr. Bot—”
“Yes, they do,” Junior said, interrupting.
“What?” I said.
“The Hinkle sisters know. Your momma talks to my momma, and she talks to Miss Dinah and Miss Pauline.” Junior’s voice went soft, like he realized how bad it sounded. Like the whole neighborhood was gossiping about my family.
I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and I didn’t think I could stand the humiliation of it. “Oh!” I practically shouted. “So I’m the last one in the wide world to find out? Is that what you’re saying? Well, thanks a lot for leaving me in the dark, Junior Bledsoe! Like I don’t have nothing to do with it. How could you?”
“There, there,” said Mr. Botts. “Try to remain calm. I can call the Hinkle sisters in the morning. You understand, however, that I will need more information about them, such as their relationship to the family. And I would feel much better about this if we could get your doctor to verify your story.”
Doctor? Did he mean Dr. Gaul from the polio clinic? Or Dr. Johnson, our family doctor? I couldn’t stand the thought of either one of them getting in on my family’s shame.
“Sir,” said Junior, “we can call the Hinkle sisters right now if you want. They can confirm my story. But the doctors don’t know nothing about this. Mrs. Honeycutt is much too proud to go telling—”
Mr. Botts cut him off. “Young man, I can see how sincere you are. And I want to help. But while Ann Fay is at the foundation, we are her legal guardians. So I suggest we sleep on this. I’ll make arrangements for you to stay in a guest cottage tonight and we’ll take care of it in the morning.”
Mr. Botts began to turn his wheelchair. “Ann Fay, you may begin packing if you like. Mrs. Trotter is off duty right now but I’m sure she’ll be happy to help. I will ask her to meet you in your room. Junior, would you come with me, please?”
And the next thing I knew, Junior was following Mr. Botts into his office. I heard Junior saying, “Sir, I’m very concerned about Ann Fay. And her whole family.”
Then I heard Mr. Botts asking him to shut the door. And just like that, I was left out in the cold.