Save herself and screw the rest.
“Give me a fucking break!” she shouts up to the fireworks that are no longer there. “What the fuck do I have to do to just be normal? What did I ever do to deserve this crap? Why?” She sobs. “Why?”
Also, not for the first time,
there is no answer.
5:35 p.m.
Janie picks herself up.
Wipes the dirt from her shorts.
Starts jogging home.
6:09 p.m.
She slips into the back door of Cabel’s house. Exhausted and empty.
He looks up from the kitchen where’s he’s fixing a sandwich and blinks at her.
“Hi,” she says. Stands there, her tear-stained cheeks streaked with summer road dust and sweat.
Cabel’s nose twitches. “Wow. You smell disgusting,” he says. “Come with me.”
And then he leads her to the bathroom. Turns on the shower. Kneels down to take off her shoes and socks as she sets her glasses on the counter and takes out her ponytail. Helps her out of her sodden clothes. And then he holds the curtain aside for her. “Go on,” he says. She steps in.
He watches her, admiring her curves. Reluctantly turns to go.
And then he stops.
Thinks Janie might need some extra pampering.
He slips off his T-shirt and shorts. Boxers, too. And joins her.
6:42 p.m.
“Hey, Cabe?” she says, drying her hair, feeling refreshed. Grinning. Putting all thoughts but one aside for the moment. “You wanna go get Jimmy a raincoat and we’ll take care of you?”
Cabel looks at her.
Turns his head and narrows his eyes.
“Who the hell is Jimmy?”
11:21 p.m.
In the cool dark basement, she whispers, “It’s not Ralph, is it?”
Cabel’s quiet for a moment, as if he’s thinking. “You mean like Forever Ralph? Uh, no.”
“You’ve read Forever?” Janie is incredulous.
“There wasn’t much to choose from on the hospital library cart, and Deenie was always checked out,” Cabel says sarcastically.
“Did you like it?”
Cabel laughs softly. “Um . . . well, it wasn’t the wisest thing to read for a fourteen-year-old guy with fresh skin grafts in the general area down there, if you know what I mean.”
Janie stifles a sympathetic laugh and buries her face in his T-shirt. Holds him close. Feels him breathing. After a few minutes, she says, “So what, then? Pete? Clyde?”
Cabel rolls over, pretending to sleep.
“It’s Fred, isn’t it.”
“Janie. Stop.”
“You named your thing Janie?” She giggles.
Cabel groans deeply. “Go to sleep.”
11:41 p.m.
She sleeps. It’s delicious.
For a while.
3:03 a.m.
He dreams.
They are in Cabel’s house, the two of them, snuggling up together on a couch, playing Halo, eating pizza. Having fun. There is a muffled noise in the background, someone calling out for help from the kitchen, but the two ignore it—they are too busy enjoying each other’s company.
The cries for help grow louder.
“Quiet!” Cabel yells. But the calls only grow more intense. He yells again, but nothing changes. Finally he goes into the kitchen. Janie is compelled to follow.
He yells out. “Just shut up about your stupid problems! I can’t take it anymore!”
There, lying in a white hospital bed in the middle of the kitchen, is a woman.
She’s contorted, crippled.
Blind and emaciated.
Hideous.
It’s old Janie.
The young Janie on the couch is gone.
Cabel turns to Janie in the dream. “Help me,” he says.
Janie stares. Gives a slight shake of her head, even though she is compelled to try to help him. “I can’t.”
“Please, Janie. Help me.”
She looks at him. Speechless. Shudders, and holds back the tears.
Whispers, “Maybe you should just say good-bye.”
Cabel stares at her. And then he turns to the old Janie.
Reaches out with two fingers.
Closes her eyelids.
Janie struggles and pulls out of the dream.
Frozen.
Panting.
The world closing in around her again. She struggles to move. To breathe.
When she is able, Janie stumbles on numb toes across Cabe’s basement floor and up the steps, out the door. Across the yards and to her tiny, stifling prison.
Lies on her side, counting her breaths, making herself feel each one, in and out. Staring at the wall.
Wondering how much longer she can hide it all.
SUNDAY
August 6, 2006, 10:10 a.m.
She stares at the wall.
And pulls herself out of bed to face another day.
Janie finds Dorothea in the kitchen, fixing her mid-morning cocktail. It’s the first time Janie’s seen her since they talked.
“Hey,” Janie says.
Janie’s mother grunts.
It’s like nothing happened.
“Any word on Henry?”
“No.”
“You doing okay?”
Janie’s mother pauses and gives Janie a bleary look. She fakes a smile. “Just fine.”
Janie tries again. “You know my cell phone number is here next to the calendar if you ever need me, right? And Cabel’s is here too. He’ll do anything for you, like, if I’m not around or something. You know that?”
“He’s that hippie guy?”
“Yeah, Ma.” Janie rolls her eyes. Cabel got his hair cut months ago.