The Perfect Place (21 page)

“Is that right?” Auntie says softly. “Where's he at?”

I recite the address in the same flat voice.

“So he's still in North Carolina, then,” Auntie says. “Guess you'd better call your mama and tell her.”

“Right now?” I ask.

Auntie nods. She takes the phone off the hook and holds it out to me.

I climb to my feet and take it from her. She waits until I dial Mom's number before she walks away. Jane said happiness doesn't come easy, and she's right.

Mom answers the phone. “I still can't find him,” she says, before I even say hello. Her voice breaks. “I even drove all the way back to Delaware last night. No trace of him. What are we going to do now?”

We could stay here in Black Lake,
I say in my mind.

Mom sucks in her breath, and I realize that she's crying. “He can't just leave us like this. We need him. I need him.”

Guilt fills up every inch of me. Jane said happiness is about making sacrifices. “I know where Dad is.”

Mom sniffles. “What? How?”

I tell her all about my phone call to Mr. Brown and about the letter and the return address.

“Christ, I can't believe Mr. Brown gave you any information at all, with his evil self. What did the letter say?”

“‘I'm sorry. I love you all.'”

Mom's silent for a long time. “The important thing is that we know where he is.”

“And what are going to do when he's standing in front of us?” I ask.

“We're gonna make him come back. Then we lay down the law. Tell him he can't ever do this again. We'll find a new place to live, a permanent place, and—”

And what if it doesn't work? What if he runs away again or we have to keep moving from place to place?

“I don't understand why you don't sound happy about this,” Mom says suddenly. “You told us all to keep having hope, and we did, and now we found him.”

I shake my questions from my head. We found Dad. Together we're going to go get him and bring him back and then we will be an aggregate again.

“I am happy,” I say, forcing my voice up an octave.

“Good. I'll be there tomorrow afternoon. Do me a favor and put your sister on the phone.”

I call Tiffany from the front of the store, where she's interrogating Auntie about why she doesn't sell sour-punch straws. Tiffany delivers the excitement Mom is looking for. She screams and shrieks and carries on when Mom tells her how soon she'll be here to get us, and when she hangs up the phone, she runs back out to the front of the store. I follow slowly and watch as Tiffany climbs into the stool beside Auntie and engulfs her in a hug.

“We're going to the perfect place,” she says.

“I hope so,” Auntie says.

“Are you gonna miss us?” Tiffany asks her, resting her head on Auntie's shoulder.

“You mean your cryin' and your sister's talkin' back? Not one bit. Like I told you, I ain't one for company.”

Auntie nudges Tiffany off of her and goes around the counter to straighten the racks of candy. Tiffany comes over to where I'm standing in the entrance to the stockroom and slips her arm around my waist.

“I think I'll miss Auntie,” she says. “Even if she won't miss us.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Tiffany returns to her stool and proceeds to spin around and around on it like a maniac. I go back into the stockroom and sit down on the floor, pretending I can see the future like Jane. But what I see is in the past: eating Hershey's Kisses with Auntie, walking home from Camp Jesus Saves with Terrance.

“You all right, girl?”

I open my eyes at the sound of Auntie's voice.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” She points to a middle shelf across from me. “Out of Kit Kats,” she mutters, not meeting my eyes.

When she leaves and I'm alone in the stockroom again, I get up and start scrubbing shelves. I scrub until my shoulders are sore, trying to erase the idea of staying in Black Lake. That's not what the future holds.

T
HE
doorbell rings the next morning. Terrance is standing on the other side of the screen door, nervously rocking his weight from foot to foot.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

We stand there, looking at everything but each other, until he says, “Can I come in?”

“It's ‘May I,' and yes.”

Terrance's face breaks into a smile as he steps inside. “You haven't changed a bit.” He joins me in Auntie's living room, where he stops and looks at her furnishings. “So,” he says, his eyes on her antique clock, “I haven't seen you around camp lately. Did Ms. Eunetta suspend you?”

“No. I'm just not going back.”

“That's too bad,” Terrance says. He starts walking around and ends up in the kitchen. I'm right behind him. He jumps, as though he's startled to see Auntie in her own house, putting the orange juice back in the fridge. “Good morning, Ms. Washington.”

“Mornin', Terrance,” Auntie replies, not turning around. “You eat?”

“Yes. I had three Pop-Tarts before I left my grandmother's house.”

Terrance still has the crumbs on his shirt and in the corner of his mouth to prove it. Auntie turns to where Tiffany is plopped at the kitchen table and says, “Come on outside with me. I want to show you something in the back.”

“All you have in the back is dead people,” Tiffany whines.

“Girl, just come on,” Auntie snaps.

Tiffany hops to her feet, and the two of them hurry out the back door, leaving me alone with Terrance. He goes over to the kitchen window and peeks outside.

“You know, I heard you guys caught the thief.”

“You heard right.”

“Serves Byron right. Seriously, how many girlfriends does one guy need?”

“At least three, apparently.”

I tell Terrance all about our trip to Jaguar's house yesterday, and how she's going to have to clean the shelves at Grace's Goodies on account of her wrecking Auntie's store.

“Dang,” Terrance says. “Cleaning those shelves is rough.”

“Yeah, I kind of feel bad for her,” I say.

“Really?”

“No. I was just being facetious.” Terrance stares at me blankly. “It means I was joking.”

“You're gonna have to write that word down for me too.”

“Sure.”

“Cool. I should get going. I just stopped by to see if you were coming back to camp,” Terrance says. He heads for the front door, then stops suddenly, his hand hovering above the door handle. “Do you want to hang out after church tomorrow?”

“Um . . .”

“As, like, associates.”

I won't be here tomorrow. “What about today? Right now?”

Terrance's eyes go wide. “O-kay, I guess. If it's all right with Ms. Washington.”

I go out back to ask her. She and Tiffany are looking up at something in the tree above Auntie's parents' graves.

“It's not a nest,” Tiffany is saying.

“It is, girl. Use your eyes,” Auntie replies impatiently.

I clear my throat to get Auntie's attention. When I have it, I ask if it would be all right if I hung out with Terrance for a while.

“I reckon so. We'll just be hangin' around here, waitin' on your mama.”

Ever since Mom called last night, I've been checking for signs that Auntie cares about us leaving, that she'll miss us even a tiny bit. I don't see anything. But then her face doesn't ever change much.

Terrance is waiting for me at the edge of Auntie's lawn.

“Do you mind if we go for a walk?” I ask him. “A short one.”

“Okay. Cool. Where do you want to go?”

I reach into my pocket and finger the last of the emergency money Mom gave me. The sun is butter-yellow and scorching. “All over.” I think of Auntie. “I've got
thangs
to do.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

We stop at Jane's first. The restaurant is a mess of plastic tables and chairs and gauzy curtains. She is wiping down the counter when we enter. “Well, well, what brings you here today, little miss?” she says, straightening. She eyes Terrance. “And you are . . . ?”

“Terrance Gall. I moved here a few months ago from Mississippi.”

“I see. You plan on being some kind of scientist one day, huh?”

“I do.” Terrance shuffles from foot to foot. “Was that a prediction?”

“You'd better hope not, 'cause predictions cost five dollars. Speaking of which . . .” Jane's eyes find me. Her lids are coated in purple and gold eye shadow. I pull the money out of my pocket before she can blink. She stuffs it in her ample cleavage, where it disappears completely. Terrance stares, mesmerized.

“Well, thanks for telling me my future,” I say.

“You're welcome.” We turn to go. “Tell me, girl, did you find that happiness yet?”

I think about staying up and eating Hershey's Kisses with Auntie, about her demanding that Jaguar clean the shelves at Grace's Goodies, about sharing words with Terrance. But what I'm feeling is guilt. Thinking about being together with Dad again should be making me happy, but it's not.

“No. Not yet,” I say.

“Well, it's coming soon, girl, so don't stop waiting on it.”

The door chimes as we leave.

“Where to next?” Terrance asks.

“What about the lake?”

“It's more of a reservoir, but okay.”

As we walk, Terrance fills me in on what I've missed at camp. Jaguar and Pamela haven't bothered him too much lately. In fact, he's not sure the two of them are even speaking to each other these days.

We come to the woods and slip through the opening in the trees. “What happened?” I ask.

“Who knows? Girls are weird. No offense.”

“None taken.”

We walk silently through the woods, and it's just as peaceful and beautiful as I remember, and the lake just as gross. We stand on the shore and watch the waves push the algae around until I catch sight of a figure a little farther along, tossing stones in the water.

“Is that . . . ?”

“Pamela,” Terrance confirms.

We exchange a look. “Let's pretend we didn't see her,” Terrance says.

But Pamela has seen us, and she starts over. She stops a ways away, a plastic bag dangling from her hand. I'm sure by now she's heard all about Jaguar getting into trouble, and maybe she wants to have words about it.

“What do you want?” I call out.

“Just wanted to—” Pamela hesitates. “Y'all skipping stones again?”

“No, just looking at the water.” I pause, choosing my next words carefully. “Why? You feel like skipping some?”

Pamela takes a step forward and then another until she's standing an arm's length away. She shrugs. “I wouldn't mind, except I don't know how.” She glances at Terrance. “Can you show me?”

“Um,” Terrance says.

“Yes, he can.” I give him a nudge. “Show. Her.”

Terrance goes in search of stones for Pamela to skip. She and I stand in silence as he does, sneaking looks at each other every now and again.

When it's time for Terrance to begin his lesson, he stands as far away from Pamela as he can. She hardly seems to notice, or maybe she doesn't care. She puts down her plastic bag and picks up on stone-skipping after just a few tries.

“Okay, so I get two wishes?” she asks after a pretty successful skip.

Terrance and I nod. Pamela shuts her eyes tight. I notice that she's not wearing her glittery eye shadow or tinted lip-gloss today. She opens her eyes and kicks at the ground, rustling her bag in the process.

“Cookies. For my mama. She's not doing too well.”

I remember the frail woman at church wrapped up in blankets and scarves.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Terrance says.

Pamela nods her thanks. “You know, you two don't suck,” she says.

“Um, thanks, I guess,” I reply.

Pamela takes a stone from the pile at her feet. “I didn't mean it like that. It's just—I guess what I'm trying to say is, my bad. I let Jag get in my head all the time.” Pamela tosses the stone from hand to hand. “She's messing up my karma, real talk.”

Pamela falls silent again as she goes back to skipping stones. She works her way through her pile and then bends down to pick up her bag. I wonder how many of her wishes had to do with helping her mom feel better.

“I'll see you guys,” she says. She turns to go, and then stops. “And I hope whatever y'all are wishing for comes true,” she adds, and hurries off without looking back.

“I told you girls are weird,” Terrance says, staring after Pamela. He shakes his head. “Hey, look what I found.”

He thrusts his hand in his pocket and whips it out fast, pulling out squares of paper in the process. They drift lazily downward before the breeze catches them and sweeps them away. I recognize my own handwriting at once, words I've given Terrance. He manages to snatch up
melancholy
(
a prolonged and gloomy state of mind—think Ms. Washington
) and I grab
acquiescence
(
agreeing in silence; giving in without a fight, like a sucker
), but it is too late for the rest. They've already glided out into the water.

“Dang it!” Terrance watches the papers float away. “Will you write them down for me again tomorrow?”

Tomorrow I won't be here.

“Sure.”

“Thanks. Here.” Terrance hands me what he meant to pull out of his pocket in the first place, a stone. It's grayish-black and oblong. “I found it while I was getting stones for Pamela. Look at the contours and the aerodynamics. It'll skip four times at least, for sure. Try it.”

I take the stone from Terrance. It is still warm from his hand. Wishes well up inside me.

I wish I could stay here.

I wish that when we find Dad, we stay in the same place forever.