“A few more rounds of chemo and he’s done for a while, I hope.”
“I am so sorry, Roxy. I should be checking on him at least once a week.”
“Ed’s tough. He’ll beat it, like he’s beat it twice before. In fact, he practically shoves me out the door every day. Imagine if the two of us were pecking on him all the time—he barely survived being around us every day of high school. He doesn’t even the let the boys do work around the house for him.”
I bit my lip. “I hate to ask you this, but do you think that Ed is well enough for you to go visit your brother in Little Rock?”
“Excuse me? You know I hate my brother’s wife.”
“I was hoping you’d like to go. And that you’d insist I come with you.”
Roxy tried to hide in the pity in her smile. “Honey, say the word and we’ll be out the door in two shakes. Tom stopped by and told me about the interview with ABC tomorrow. I know you don’t want to be here when they come. You need a break from all this. But I do think we should screw Little Rock, let’s go to Tunica—”
I shook my head. “No one would believe that. Certainly not the girls. They have to believe I’m going to Little Rock. And you have to go—for a week, that’s all. Then you can come back. We’ll schedule it that we arrive back at the same time.”
“You’ve lost me. I’m going to Little Rock… but you aren’t coming with me?”
“I’m not done. I need you to rent a car for me. I don’t want to use my debit card for Tom to see. Of course, I’ll pay you back immediately. I also hope you can drive me to the Enterprise over on Charlotte Avenue. And then when we both get back, you can pick me up there. It will look like we’ve been together the entire time.”
“Where are you actually going?”
“I need to go somewhere alone. And the girls would be too worried if they knew.”
“If you’re going to have me lie, which I only do under the most important of occasions—such as telling Ruth Boster last week that the bleach is really hiding the hair on her upper lip—then the tradeoff is that I’m going with you. I don’t know where you’re going or why, but I will be going. I lie, I travel. Comprende?”
I slowly opened the door to the room Brian had shared with William. Two twin beds were tucked into the corners, one with Spider-Man sheets and the other with Batman. The red sheets with webs had remained untouched since summer.
As he did each day, Brian sat in a chair facing a bay window overlooking his backyard. The books that Stephanie, the tutor, had read aloud, trying to get him to respond, were stacked near his ankles. I gave Stephanie two more weeks, tops.
“Brian bear, it’s Nanna.”
He continued to stare, motionless. Even his blinking seemed mechanical.
“Honey, Nanna has to take a trip. I really wish you would talk to me before I leave.”
A strand of hair drifted across his eye. When he made no effort to remove it, I gently brushed it back. I’ve never just come out and asked him. I have to do it.
“Brian. Brian, honey, did William… disappear into lights? Lights from the sky?”
When Brian failed to respond, I closed my eyes. I might as well have been talking to a statue. I looked out the window at the trees beyond.
Not wanting to look again at his vacant face, I leaned down and kissed his cheek, and started to walk out, when I stopped at the door.
I tasted his tear on my lips.
West Side Story took us from Tennessee to Paducah, Kentucky. Camelot blared as we blew through Southern Illinois. After a dramatic accompaniment to “If Ever I Would Leave You,” Roxy frowned at the construction off Interstate 57 onto Route 13. “Glad we got to avoid that mess. I suppose you’ll tell me when I actually need to get off the interstate?”
I nodded.
“Thinking about the girls?”
“Kate—and Tom, for that matter—seemed relieved I was leaving. They’re both practical thinkers and know the TV shoot will go easier without me acting like an old guard dog. Stella was suspicious; she knows it’s not like me to leave in a crisis. Anne looked so panicked when I told her I was going with you to Little Rock. I know she won’t take part in the interview, but I feel like I’m abandoning her. It was like seeing her again at six years old, after I took her to the first day of kindergarten. I promised to call her twice a day, and I told her I would only be about five or six hours away, which really isn’t that untrue.”
“Ah-ha! At last, a clue. So we’re going five hours away, then. Took us three and a half to get here, so…”
“You know we’re going to Champaign, Roxy. You’ve known since I first told you I had to go to Illinois.”
“Well, I guessed it, but I thought maybe you needed to go to Chicago. Or maybe Springfield. I still don’t understand why, though.”
I closed my eyes and leaned back. Roxy took a swig of her Diet Pepsi and pointed to the console. “If you’re still going to be evasive you’re going to have to listen to Evita. And not that Madonna crap, I’m talking Patti LuPone.”
After Evita came Phantom of the Opera, and then Chicago. Roxy was about to launch into “All that Jazz” when she spied a Cracker Barrel and announced her bladder was full.
After lunch, as Roxy puttered around the souvenir shop, I sat in the booth and stared out at the leafless trees. We were nearing Mattoon now, which meant I was close to breaking the vow I’d made to myself all those years ago, whispering to the baby inside me, promising to never return to this desolate part of the world. It was spring then, and I felt with every mile the world was getting greener. I was escaping, I had my baby girl with me, and Tom could join us once he graduated. If I had had to walk home to Tennessee, I would have. More likely, I would have run.
“OK, I’ve overloaded myself with crap, including those peg puzzles no one can ever figure out but that still get passed on to grandchildren,” Roxy announced as she returned to the table. “I bought one for each of your brood, they were on sale. Of course, my sons are depriving me of grandchildren, only giving me tattooed girlfriends. I’ve paid. Thelma, it’s time to tell Louise what exactly we’re doing.”
I slid out from the booth and swept Roxy’s hand. “Not yet.”
When we at last arrived in Champaign, I repeatedly blinked; a bad habit that surfaced when I was surprised at something. Logic suggested that a college town I hadn’t seen in forty years would of course look very different. But I had seen towns in Tennessee sit unaltered for longer than that.
As Roxy gassed up her pickup truck, I marveled at the sprawl of neighborhoods and gas stations, feeling a surprising twinge of fondness for the brick buildings. It was what I remembered the most about Champaign: the red brick, as if the founders of the university and the town knew that if the people were to survive the blistering winds and mounds of snow of winter, wooden structures weren’t going to cut it. The buildings on campus were brick, the restaurants were brick, even many of the new gas stations were brick.
“OK, sister, where to now?” Roxy tapped on the window.
I gave the directions, relying mostly on Google Maps on my iPhone, which was one of only two apps I had mastered. I had no choice but to conquer texting or else Stella would have driven me insane, and Tom insisted I understand the map app in case I got lost in Atlanta or Savannah. Though the streets surrounding the university had multiplied and the campus expanded, I was able to rest the phone on my thigh as we entered the school and give directions by memory. When I directed Roxy into the parking lot of the mostly plain (brick) building, my throat started to tighten.