Something touched my arm. It was Ronnie, reaching out for me. “It’s okay, sis,” he said. “It’s okay.”
“Thanks, Ronnie.” We clasped hands. His skin was warm and a little clammy from being tucked inside the sheet, but I didn’t mind. We held on to each other, and I gathered myself.
“You’re welcome, sis.”
“I wanted to ask you about something else,” I said.
I bent down to my purse and took out the photo. Ronnie and Mom and the two mystery children weren’t at Indiana Beach in the picture. I had no idea where they were standing, and I was counting on my brother to straighten it out. I handed the photo to him.
“Ronnie, who are these kids in the picture with you?” I asked.
He took the photo, and his brow creased. “You took this from my room,” he said.
“Yes, I did, Ronnie.”
“Why?”
“I’m trying to find some things out about Mom. I had to go in there.” He didn’t look mollified, but I pressed on. “So, who are these two little kids with you and Mom?”
“You know them,” he said.
“No, I don’t. I’ve never seen them before.”
“They’re our cousins. That’s what Mom said.”
“Cousins?” I leaned forward and looked at the photo again. We didn’t have any cousins. Dad was an only child. Paul had no children. We were it, the whole generation. “I don’t think that’s right.”
“Mom said.”
“I heard you. Do they live in Dover?”
Ronnie shrugged.
“What are their names?”
Ronnie thought for a minute, then pointed at the children one by one. “That’s Skylar. And that’s…” He scrunched his face in concentration. “Vanessa.”
“And their mom or dad? Did you meet them? Who are they?”
“The police think I hurt Mom,” Ronnie said.
“I know. They told me all about it.”
Ronnie didn’t say anything else. He lay there, still holding the photo. He stared up at the dingy gray drop ceiling.
“Ronnie, you didn’t hurt Mom, did you?”
He took his sweet time answering me. I let him have all the time he wanted. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. It disturbed me more than anything that I wasn’t sure what the answer would be.
Finally he said, “I got mad at her. Really mad.”
“You mean the time the police came? The fishing trip with Paul?”
It took me a moment to realize that Ronnie was shaking his head, ever so slightly. No, he was saying. Not that time.
Had there been another time?
“What happened, Ronnie?” I asked, keeping my voice low. I had no idea who might be lingering in the hallway outside his room.
“She didn’t want me to go to speech therapy,” he said.
“Again?”
“Yes.”
“When was this?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t remember.”
“Ronnie, this is important. Was this before the police came that time or after?”
“I’m tired, sis. Tired.”
“I know. Just answer that question.”
But he turned away. He tucked the photo against his chest and rolled over, turning his back to me.
“Ronnie? Are you going to answer me?”
Silence. He’d totally withdrawn. I asked one more question, but he didn’t answer that one either.
“Ronnie?” I said. “Who is Elizabeth Yarbrough?”
I wandered down the hallway and out to the parking lot, lost in my own thoughts. The sodium vapor lights were coming on, casting the lot in an artificial glow. I pulled my keys out and heard my name called.
“Elizabeth. Hey.”
I turned. It was Janie. She was wearing her scrubs under a lightweight jacket. She was carrying a canvas tote bag that looked like it was holding a brick.
“Hi,” I said.
Janie came over. “How’s Ronnie doing today?” she asked.
“He has moods. Sometimes he doesn’t like to talk.”
“I’ve noticed that,” Janie said. “He’s probably overwhelmed.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you heading out?” Janie asked. “Or home? I just got off, and if you want to get coffee or something…”
I looked at my car. Then I looked at the darkening sky. What waited for me in my apartment? Ungraded essays?
“If you’re busy…” Janie said.
“I think there’s a Starbucks across the street,” I said.
We settled with our drinks. The place was half full. Teenagers laughed at one table. An elderly man worked a crossword puzzle next to us. A family of four occupied another table. They seemed to be trying to set a world record for looking wholesome and happy.
Janie wore her hair piled on top of her head. I noticed that she used a number two pencil to hold it in place. She seemed the same as in high school—an open book. No secrets. No dodging or sugarcoating. She explained how she’d stayed in Dover after high school and attended Dalton for her nursing degree.
“It took me an extra year and a half,” she said.
“Were you paying your own way?” I asked.
“No. I had too much fun when I was a freshman,” she said. “I partied. I didn’t go to class. You know, the usual.”
“Sure.”
“I was a student nurse at a local general practitioner’s office. One of my professors came in and saw me there. The poor guy. He probably thought to himself, ‘How is this dummy who couldn’t come to class going to check my blood pressure?’ I couldn’t blame him for thinking that.”
“But you have your act together now,” I said.
“Well enough.” She sipped her drink. “You seem to be doing well. That’s no surprise. I always thought you’d be the type to study abroad or go to grad school. I figured you’d be living in New York or someplace like that.”
“Not yet.”
“Did you come back for your mom and Ronnie?” Janie asked.
“No, it just worked out that way. I got an assistantship here. It’s a good program. I’m going to move on after I get my master’s.” As I said the words, I realized that I wasn’t sure I believed them anymore. Could I move on? What about Ronnie? What about all of it?
“I saw your dad died too. In the obituary. I’m sorry. I remember he was sick when we were in high school.”
“The cancer came back when I was in college.”
“Shit,” Janie said. “Fuck cancer. You know?”
I had to laugh. It reminded me of the stupid things we used to say when we were seventeen. Fuck cancer. Yes. Fuck it.
“Are you married?” I asked.
She held up her left hand. No rings. “Most people we went to high school with are married. And have babies. I’m in no hurry for that.” She made a dismissive wave with her hand. “I have a boyfriend. We’ve been seeing each other for six months, but who knows? He’s nice. What about you?”
“Single,” I said. “Well, there’s a guy. It’s casual. Off and on. He’s nice. A good guy. Too good sometimes, you know?”
“A good boy?” she said.
“A loyal pup,” I said. “I’m lucky. He treats me well. But it’s hard with school and trying to focus on a career. And now my family.”
“You used to say you didn’t want to have kids.”
“I know,” I said. “I still feel that way.”
“You’ve got time to decide,” Janie said. “We can have kids when we’re in our thirties.”
“That sounds so old. Thirties.”
Janie laughed, and I did too.
I said, “I just looked at Ronnie when we were growing up, you know? My parents had him, and they were… I don’t know, trapped, I guess. I didn’t want to be trapped. By anyone. I wanted to have a career and get away from Dover.” Janie was listening intently. “Not that there’s anything wrong with staying here.”