Page 84 of The Big Easy & Other Lies
“It’simportant?” Her acidic tone made me flinch. I hadn’t heard it in nearly a month. Ever since her hospital stay, she’d toned down her hatefulness and contented herself with grunting at me when forced to, or sometimes arguing with me about items I brought her to approve for sale, but she’d laid off the name-calling. Sometimes when I brought her food or medicine, she even said thank you.
“Majorly important.”
“I bet you still have time for Miss Annie and your paychecks there.”
“Actually, no. I requested the next two weeks off.”
Surprise crossed her face. “What kind of project is so important you have to break promises and quit work? Is this more of that fashion nonsense you been fooling with? And stop towering over me.”
I shoved several empty bags of microwave popcorn to the floor and perched on the ottoman. “I have a really good shot at getting into design school and maybe even winning a scholarship, but somebody screwed my plans all up. I need to spend every spare second for the next two weeks working on my project or it won’t happen.”
Delphine glared at me through watery eyes. “Tell me this,” she growled. “Would you be doing all this eBay nonsense if you weren’t getting the fabric in trade?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not. I don’t know how else we would find the money for your medicine.”
She coughed, a wet hideous sound. I wanted to cringe, but I sat, impassive. When the wheezing passed, she wiped the white flecks from the corners of her mouth with a crumpled tissue. “Why do you help?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I made a promise to Mama. I never knew Mawmaw or Pawpaw Landry, but Mama always told me that they said that when we make promises, we keep them. It’d be like killing a piece of her memory if I didn’t.”
She seemed to process that, coughing again into her tissue. “What was the promise?”
The question startled me. “You know about it.”
“No, I don’t. You never said anything about a promise.”
“I promised her I would take care of you,” I said slowly, trying to remember when I had told her this before.
Her watery eyes reddened. “You were eight. Isabelle made you promise that?”
“She did.” I remembered sitting on the floor in the downstairs bedroom. I had hauled in a bunch of my Barbies and was making them evening gowns out of paper towels and twist ties when my mom patted the bed beside her and beckoned me to snuggle in. And then she had told me about how Delphine was a very sad lady because so many of the people she loved went to heaven and sometimes there was too much sadness so she yelled a lot to let the sadness out. Then she had told me all the ways I could help take care of Delphine. She told me I could give Delphine smiles and hugs and draw pictures and sing songs like I did for my mom.
I made that promise before I knew that Delphine wanted none of that from me. Eventually I found my own way to keep it; I stayed in the house, and I said nothing to anyone about the craziness inside of it. I made sure she got her food and medicine. I had still failed my mom, but I didn’t know what else I could do.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Delphine asked.
I frowned. “I thought I had. I thought...”
“What?” she demanded when I trailed off.
“I promised that, too. That I wouldn’t tell you,” I said, remembering. Taking care of Delphine had become such a habit that I had forgotten about the last part of the promise. It had been a few days later, and I’d brought my mom some soup even though I knew she wouldn’t eat it. When I set it on her bed tray, she smiled. “You are such a good caretaker, the very best,chère.This is good practice for taking care of your auntie. You remember your promise?” I had nodded, distracted as I watched her stir the soup but seeing none of it make it to her mouth. “Delphine is a proud lady, Cam. She won’t want the help. Better to do it and not tell her what you’re up to. It’ll be our secret, yes?” I had nodded again, still worried about her not eating.
“Isabellewoulddo that,” Delphine said. Her expression surprised me; softness touched the hard lines around her mouth. “She worried about me too much.”
Too much? A quick glance around the house would prove that my mom had been right to worry.
“Why did you agree to keep me?” I asked. The question tore out of me before I could snatch it back.
“You’re kin. I know you hate me, but I’m the only kin you got left. No one else was going to do it. Definitely not anyone in Drake Simoneaux’s worthless family.”
“You hated me first, Delphine,” I said, tired despite it barely being breakfast time. “I want to show you something. I’ll be right back.” I hurried up to my room. The fleeting softness in her face might signal the only chance I would ever have to get answers. I huggedTale of Tear Girlto my chest, wondering if I was doing the right thing.
“What is this?” Delphine asked, when I handed it to her a moment later.
“My mom made it for me. I’d like to know what you think.”
