Confessions of a Teenage Leper Page 18

  She nodded, slow. “It was a long time ago now, but, I still miss him…”

  Lester reached out to touch her shoulder. She placed her hand on top of his and patted it.

  “I had ten brothers and sisters,” Grace said.

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I was the oldest girl. My brother, the one who died, was the only one older than me. He was one year older.”

  “Mine too,” I said.

  Grace nodded. “My mama died delivering the eleventh child, Cordelia, then after that it was up to me to look after everybody. Nine kids, a newborn, and my daddy too.”

  “Wow. That’s…”

  “It was a lot of work. I wanted to go to school, but I couldn’t. Had too many kids to look after!”

  Lester reached for another cookie and Grace slapped his hand away. Maybe she could see a little bit, I don’t know. Maybe she felt his hand move.

  “Oh, I did have some fun though. Had me a boyfriend. Sweet little thing.”

  Lester clucked his tongue and shook his head.

  “We’d go out dancing in New Orleans, go to the picture shows, and we had a marvelous time together. He was studying to be a doctor.”

  Lester whistled through his teeth.

  “So when I started getting the numbness in my hands, you know?”

  “Yep,” I said.

  “Well, I told him about it, my boyfriend. I showed him this little pink spot that I had on my foot. We’d been dating over a year by this time, so I thought I could trust him, you know.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “And he said to me, ‘I’m sure you’re fine, sugar-beet. I’m sure you’s just fine.’ So I put my socks back on and I thought that was that.”

  “Right.”

  “Next day, wouldn’t you know it, the Health Authority is knocking at my door. My boyfriend reported me to them. My own sweetheart turned me in.”

  “Good for nothing bum!” Lester said.

  Grace gave him a gentle smile. “So they told my daddy I have to go to Carville and does he want to take me or should they?”

  I took a drink of my tea, nodding pointlessly.

  “So, he borrowed our neighbor’s car and drove me up here hisself the next morning.”

  “That’s rough,” I said.

  “Oh, it was sad. I had to say goodbye to all them kids. I raised those kids. And I didn’t see any of them again. Not until my brother’s funeral five years later. They didn’t even write to tell me he had passed. Had to read about it in the paper. I saw it in the obituaries. He’d been killed in a car accident, and I said, that’s my brother. I’m going to pay my last respects. So I went through the hole in the fence, because we weren’t allowed out in those days, not even if our own kin had passed away. I found a ride back to New Orleans and went straight to the church. Well, I found out at my brother’s funeral that my family had told everyone I had died! Didn’t they get some surprise when I walked into the church in my Sunday best, alive and well!”

  We all laughed.

  “Even some of my little brothers and sisters who were too young to remember thought I was dead, because that was the story they’d been told. I said, no wonder I’ve never gotten any letters from any of my old friends or my aunties or cousins, they all think I’m dead!” She chuckled, shook her head, then sipped from her teacup. “That broke my heart, though. Broke it wide open.” She sighed deeply. “I paid my respects to my brother and I said goodbye to my family and came back to Carville. When I got back, everybody said, ‘How was your trip home?’ And I said, ‘This is my home now.’”

  “Mmhm,” Lester said.

  “And that was that. I never saw anyone from my family ever again.”

  “That’s so sad,” I said.

  “Yes, it is,” said Grace. “But no one ever promised there wouldn’t be sadness in this life.”

  Lester reached his hand across the table until it found Grace’s. They smiled at each other. Somehow, they each knew that the other one was smiling.

  “I’ve been very blessed though,” Grace said. “Even though I’ve had this disease, I’ve been very lucky. I’ve met all kinds of wonderful people. People that I would have never met if I didn’t get this disease.”

  “Like me!” Lester said.

  “That’s right, lemon-drop,” Grace said, turning her face toward him. “And Abby.” She smiled in my general direction.

  I sat with them a while longer. We all had another cookie and another cup of tea.

  “When they found out I had the gazeek,” Lester said, “my mama sent me away the very same day.”

  “The gazeek?”

  “It’s another name for the disease,” Grace said, nodding.

  “Oh,” I said. “Huh.”

  “I was ten years old,” Lester said, cradling his gibbled hands one inside the other. “Mama said, ‘I might not see you again, but I want you to know that you’re a good boy. You didn’t do nothing wrong. And I’ll always love you no matter what. Even if we’re not together anymore.’ She gave me a hug and a kiss, then the police put chains around my hands and feet and put me in the back of an old horse trailer and hauled me up here. That was it. I never did see Mama again. Or my daddy. Or any of my five brothers and sisters. My daddy owned a store, see? So if the town had found out I had the disease, the store would’ve gone bankrupt. My family would’ve starved.” He coughed, then cleared his throat. “I can see the sense in it now, but it sure did sting at the time. Wooowee!”

  “How long have you been here?” I said.

  “Eighty-one years this May,” Lester said.

  “Seventy-four years,” Grace said.

  “Holy sh—”

  “Mmhm. Some people do say this place is holy,” Lester said.

  “The nuns certainly used to think so,” said Grace.

  “I thought that getting this disease, the…gazeek?” I said.

  “Mmhm,” Lester said, grinning.

  “I thought that it was the worst thing that could ever happen to me,” I said. “But, it wasn’t.”

  Grace and Lester waited expectantly.

  “Dean disappearing was.”

  They nodded.

  “I don’t know where he is or if he’s even alive.” I began to cry. I couldn’t help it. “If I could just be certain that he was alive, then I feel like it would be okay. I wouldn’t even need to know where he is but…I don’t know.” I pressed my palms into my eyes. “I’m sorry, I…”

  “That’s alright, honey,” Grace said. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

  Lester pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me. I blew my nose into it, hard.

  What if Dean was dead? It would be my fault. I should’ve told someone about the webcam stuff. I should’ve known. But he couldn’t die. He couldn’t. He was my brother. Nobody knew me like Dean did. No one ever would.

  Grace reached for my hand and squeezed it, placing her other gnarled palm on top and patting my hand gently. “It’s a very hard life, Abby,” she said. “All we can do is get through it the best way we know how.”

  “Yeah,” I said, blowing my nose again.

  “You should go rest now, Abby. We’ve talked your ear off for long enough,” Lester said. “People lose ears all the time around here.”

  We laughed. I wiped my tears with the handkerchief and then held it out to give it back to Lester. He didn’t see it, of course. “Um, what should I do with this?”

  “Keep it,” he said. “Might bring you luck.” He grinned.

  “Okay. Um, thanks.” That was the first time I had ever used a handkerchief. Normally stuff like that grossed me out. But after you get a disease like leprosy, I guess your gross-tolerance significantly increases. I thanked them and walked back to my apartment. I took small steps and deep breaths, and even though I hurt all over, I felt a tiny bit better than I had before. I got into bed and lay awake thinking about Grace’s story. About how it would feel to be considered dead when you wer
e still alive. I decided I wouldn’t let that happen to Dean. No matter how long he was missing for, no matter how much time passed without hearing from him, until we had indisputable evidence, I would never consider him to be dead. I wouldn’t let other people talk about him that way either. For now, he was just…somewhere else. He had to be.

  The next day was Sunday. It had been a week since the last time I’d seen Dean. I slept through breakfast, got up, showered, then walked around in a daze, thinking dark thoughts. For years Dean had been doing this webcam shit. But no one had any idea. How had none of us known? And what else didn’t we know?

  I called his phone a couple of dozen times, just in case. Nothing. I felt weak and sick and awful but I tried to walk around as much as I could. I stared out toward the lake; the sunlight sparkled on the water. A beautiful boy with shaggy brown hair sat under a pecan tree, reading. My heart sped up as I walked toward him.

  My shadow fell over him, and he squinted up at me and grinned. “Hey, Tex.”

  “Hey, Okie.” I glanced down at his book. The cover was blue with an image of a bird on it. “What are you reading?”

  “Oh, it’s…well, you might have heard of it. Jonathan Livingston Seagull?”

  I shook my head. “What’s it about?”

  “It’s about a seagull.”

  I half-laughed.

  “He’s an outcast because he wants to fly…”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I don’t know. It’s about more than that, but it’s kind of hard to explain right now. I’m only partway through. It’s pretty cool so far. I think you’d like it.”

  “Sounds like it’s for the birds.”

  Scott laughed. “Yeah, maybe.” He smiled at me, his pale green eyes crinkling at the edges. “Any word on your brother?”

  “No, nothing.” I checked my phone. “Yep. Still nothing.”

  He patted the grass beside him for me to sit down. I sat next to him with my knees bent and rested my forehead on my knees. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now if that’s okay.”

  “Sure.” He rubbed my shoulder gently. I flinched and leaned away. He sighed.

  “I don’t get this,” I said.

  “Get what?”

  “This. What is this?” I gestured to his arm. My shoulder. The two of us.

  He shrugged. “I like you, Abby.”

  “But, I mean, why?”

  “Why?” he laughed.

  “Yeah. Why? Look at me; I’m hideous. I’m in a leprosy treatment center for fuck’s sake. What is there to like about that?”

  He stared out at the lake.

  I followed his gaze. “I used to be pretty,” I whispered. “But not anymore. Now I’m a monster.”

  “You’re not a monster.”

  “I feel like a monster. I feel so disgusting, Scott, I don’t even know how you can stand to look at me.” I buried my face in my arms.

  “Hey, hey…Come on now.”

  “I can’t,” I said, still hiding my face from him.

  “Listen,” he said. “What’s the most important thing you’ve ever done? The thing you’re the most proud of?”

  “I don’t know.” I rubbed my eyes against my forearms.

  “Come on, think about it.”

  “I’m not proud of anything I’ve done. I’ve led a vain and shallow existence.”

  “I don’t believe that,” he said.

  “Well, you should. It’s the truth.”

  “What’s the most important thing, then? The thing that if you hadn’t done it, the whole world would be different?”

  “I’m not…I don’t…”

  “C’mon, Abby.”

  I looked up at him. “I saved my brother’s life once.”

  “You see!”

  “He had alcohol poisoning. Stopped breathing. Heart stopped. Everything. I gave him CPR. I cracked a few of his ribs, but the paramedics said I saved his life.”

  “You see, that’s what I’m talking about.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That was you, Abby. It had nothing to do with the way you look or your hair or clothes or anything like that.”

  “My clothes? What’s wrong with my clothes?”

  “Nothing! Nothing’s wrong with your clothes, okay? Will you please just listen to me?”

  “Okay…”

  “When I say I like you, that’s the you I mean. The you that saved your brother. The you that comes from there. That place.” He tapped on his chest, over his heart.

  “Oh.”

  “Do you…? Do you like me?”

  I looked at him from the corner of my eye. Then buried my head in my arms again. “Yes! A lot!”

  He laughed. “Well, okay then. That’s settled.”

  “I just don’t know what the point is though. I mean, you’re leaving soon. We’ll probably never see each other again.”

  “I don’t see why we wouldn’t.”

  I looked up at him. “Really?”

  “There are roads that connect Texas and Oklahoma, aren’t there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, then, it won’t be that hard.”

  “But seriously though? Because I don’t want to say that we’re going to see each other again and then not actually do it. If we’re not going to, then I’d rather just say we’re not going to and be done with it.”

  “I, Scott Avery, will do everything in my power to see you, Abby…What’s your last name?”

  “Furlowe.”

  “I, Scott Avery, will do everything in my power to see you, Abby Furlowe, again after we leave this place known as Carville, Louisiana, located in the United States of America.”

  I giggled.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, nodding. “I’d like that.”

  “Good. Me too.” He smiled at me.

  I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t. Not when my face was all puffy and I had sores on my neck. When I was better, when the disease was gone and my face had cleared, then I would kiss him. And it would be great. Even though it might be a long time coming, I believed him when he said we would see each other again. I don’t know why, but I believed him.

  “What are you doing now?” Scott asked.

  I covered a big yawn. “I guess I should go back to my room and have a nap,” I said. “I’m supposed to try to get as much rest as possible.”

  “Okay. I’ll walk you back.” He stood up and extended his hand to help me up.

  When I reached to grab his hand he pulled it back and ran it through his hair. “Psych!” He laughed. “No, just kidding. Here.” He reached his hand down again. I grabbed for it and he reached around in his back pocket to check his phone. He laughed silently while he swiped the screen. “Okay, okay, for real this time.” He put his phone away and gave me his hand. I took it and stood up.

  “Jerk.” I punched him lightly on the shoulder. I laughed and so did he.

  We walked awhile without saying anything. The sun felt warm on the back of my neck.

  “It will be nice,” I said, looking up at him.

  “What will?”

  “Seeing you. Outside of here. It will be good.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “It will be.” He glanced at me, then reached for my hand. We held hands all the way back to my apartment. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later,” he said, not letting go of my hand.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Are you accepting hugs today?”

  I nodded and he hugged me as if I were made of glass and he was afraid to break me. “Have a good nap,” he said into my ear, still holding me against him.

  “Thanks.” I began to pull away but he didn’t let me go. After a moment he did.

  “Okay,” he said. “See you soon.”

  “Bye.”

  I climbed the stairs to my apartment, feeling his eyes on me. I glanced back and he still stood there, looking up at me. He gave me a goofy wave. Th
at kid is so weird, I thought. And yet…and yet…

  I went into my room and set my alarm for dinner. I undressed and got into bed. I lay awake for a while thinking about Scott. I wondered if I would love him. If I were falling in love with him. My stomach did a series of roller-coaster loops. Maybe. I wished that I had saved my virginity for someone I actually cared about. Someone who cared for me. For anyone other than Chad Bennett. I ran my hand along the edge of my panties. Maybe I could be one of those born-again virgins. Not the surgery, but just, like, reclaiming my virginity until someone worthy came along, or until I got married. Or at least until I turned eighteen. Whichever came first. I rolled over and laughed into my pillow. Right, Abby.

  Soon, I fell into a feverish sleep. I dreamt I could see all the way down inside myself. And I was not beautiful.

  After dinner that night, Jane came back to my room with a tub of rocky road ice cream she had pilfered from the staff kitchen. We sat on my bed eating it and flipping through old copies of Vanity Fair.

  “You would look so fly in this dress,” she said, showing me a photo of a black-and-yellow cut-out dress.

  “You think?” I said. “Those are our school colors.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t have to be those colors. Just the style I think would really suit your body type.”

  “Cool. Yeah. I like it. I don’t have anything like that.”

  She took the magazine back, looking pleased with herself.

  “Oh, hey, I forgot to tell you, you would look really great with purple hair.”

  She laughed. “What?”

  “Yeah, I had this dream. It was weird, I won’t bore you with the details, but you were in it, you had purple hair and it looked really good on you.”

  “Huh,” she said. She threw the magazine on the bed and got up to examine herself in the mirror. She touched her hair, her face, moved her head from side to side. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Totally,” I said.

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Jane said. “I saved you this.” She pulled a large gold coin out of her pocket and tossed it to me.

  I grabbed it out of the air. “What is it?”

  “It’s a Carville doubloon. They’re minted here and they throw them out at the Mardi Gras parade.” She pouted at me. “It’s really too bad you missed Mardi Gras, Abby. It’s only, like, the funnest night of the whole entire year.”