chapter 73

ZAVION

Papa was on the phone when Zavion woke up. His voice got louder and softer and then louder again. He must have been pacing back and forth in the hall. It took Zavion a moment to remember where he was.

Vermont. Jake’s house. Mount Mansfield.

And he had slept.

For the first time since the hurricane, he had really slept.

Zavion got out of bed. He opened the office door. Papa was making another trek down the hall.

“Skeet,” he was saying, “damn, you work fast.”

What was Papa talking about?

“No, are you kidding me? I’m there. Count me in.”

“Papa,” said Zavion.

“You said it! Hallelujah is right—” Papa kissed Zavion on the top of his head. “Morning, Zav,” he said.

“What are you talking about?”

Papa put his hand over the phone. “Skeet says hi. He’s running a business idea by me. A house painting company. A crew of artists helping to restore some houses at home.” He practically hopped back down the hall. “Brilliant idea, Skeet. Oh, my bones are aching to be back in New Orleans.”

Zavion tried to wrap his head around this new information. A job painting houses. In New Orleans. He walked into the kitchen. It was so warm and bright. He wanted to bake some bread. Maybe he would do that later. Annie sat at the table with a woman.

“Soy una madre,” said the woman.

“Soy una madre,” repeated Annie.

“Bien!” The woman put her hand on Annie’s arm. “I am a mother. You said it just right.”

Zavion walked outside just as Henry was running up the driveway. Henry sprinted to the house and slumped onto the porch, breathing hard.

In and out, up and down, went his breath.

Papa walked to the open window, the phone still in his hand. He yelled out, “Skeet says hi, Henry. Wants to know the name of an insect that can live for a few weeks with its head cut off. Nine letters.” He paused. “He says you’re the animal expert.” And then he was gone again.

A dog bounded up to them.

“Wow!” said Zavion. “What is that?” The dog’s nose reached for his hand. It felt cool and dry. The dog pushed his hand up and then kept walking so Zavion felt his head, his neck, and the length of his long body. Then he sat on Zavion’s foot, his tail making a slapping noise against Zavion’s jeans.

“Huh?” Henry seemed lost.

“Who is that?”

“Brae.”

“Your dog?”

“Uh-huh.”

Brae ran to chase a swallow that swooped low in front of them.

“Are you okay?” said Zavion.

Henry just shrugged his shoulders.

“I need to go up Mount Mansfield.”

“I know.” Henry seemed distracted.

“No, I need to go up now.”

“Isn’t Jake going to take you?”

“Please, Henry—” Zavion glanced back at the house. He knew he should wait for Jake, that it was the right thing to do, but he didn’t feel like he could wait for one more minute.

Henry stood up. “I can’t go,” he said.

“But you said you would take me. You said you wanted to.”

“I can’t.” Henry turned his back on Zavion. “Wayne died up there,” he whispered.

Zavion put his hand in his jeans pocket when he heard those words. He grabbed the marble. He wasn’t sure Henry had meant for him to hear what he’d said, so he was silent. He squeezed the marble tight.

He remembered Luna.

The sound of her bangles in his ear.

He remembered Mama.

You were you.

You are still you.

I love you all the same.

It was time for Zavion to make his own decision.

“I know you can’t take me, but can you show me the way?” he said. “I have to go up that mountain now.”

Henry was silent for a moment. Then he turned around. “I’ll take you to the place where the trail splits,” he said. “I’ll show you the way to go from there.”