Mary Jane, Jessica Blau [diy ebook reader TXT] 📗

When the song was over, everyone clapped. Jimmy set the guitar against the wall and then sat down. “I just feel so grateful.I’m grateful for you, Richard.”

“I feel grateful for Mary Jane’s voice.” Sheba put her hand on my leg and said, “If I weren’t me, I’d be jealous of you.”

I smiled and worked through the puzzle of that compliment. Did Sheba mean she was so content with herself that the only way for her to be jealous of another person would be if she already were another person? Maybe being famous like Sheba gave you so many advantages that you knew there was no point in wishing you were someone else. I spent a lot of time wondering what it would be like to be someone else. At school, I watched the cool girls with tube-curled hair and Bonnie Bell glossed lips and thought it would be thrilling to be one of them, clumped together in the dining hall, laughing and tossing their hair around. But now that I knew Sheba, those girls seemed as human and normal as . . . well, as me.

Dr. Cone was talking. I tuned in just as he said, “Jimmy, you need to tell everyone what happened.”

“What happened?” Sheba’s voice was sharp.

“Wait. Richard, what happened?” Now Mrs. Cone’s voice was sharp too.

“Can we eat first?” Jimmy said. “We skipped lunch today.”

“Didn’t you have Screaming Yellow Zonkers?” Izzy asked.

Jimmy took a chicken breast and placed it on his plate. “No Zonkers today. Today was BONKERS, so we had no ZONKERS!”

Everyone was serving themselves, but suddenly nothing felt right. Dr. Cone seemed angry, Jimmy was overly cheerful to makeup for it, and Sheba and Mrs. Cone both looked tentative and concerned. Izzy climbed off my lap and went to her seat acrossthe table, beside her mother.

I tried to separate from whatever was going on. I reminded myself that it probably had nothing to do with me. Instead of watchingthe adults, I focused on Izzy. First, I cut a breast in two and put half on Izzy’s plate and half on mine. Then I put a spoonfulof rice on her plate, on top of which I placed three string beans. We had negotiated the eating of the beans while preparingthem. Dr. and Mrs. Cone never seemed to pay attention to what Izzy did or didn’t eat, but I wanted her to be as healthy aspossible, so I made it a point to get something green inside her body every day.

There was tense, sporadic chatter once everyone started eating. It seemed to take a lot of effort to not talk about whatever Dr. Cone had been referencing earlier. And then there was a second of silence in which Dr. Cone made a long hum, like he was holding a note. I looked up at him. He was chewing the chicken and humming and moving his head as if it were the most spectacular thing he’d ever eaten. Jimmy took a bite and started humming too, but in a more exaggerated way so that we knew it was intentional. Then Sheba and Mrs. Cone took bites, and they, too, did moaning hums—chewing, humming, smiling. Izzy picked up her half breast with her hands and bit into it and she started humming, imitating the mmm, mmm, mmm sounds from the adults. I hadn’t even tasted the chicken yet, but the group stared at me for a reaction, smiling, humming.

“Is it really that good?” I asked, and they all broke apart laughing. It was like a bubble had popped and released somethingthat created relief, lightness. Dr. Cone no longer appeared angry; Mrs. Cone no longer appeared worried; Sheba appeared tohave forgotten there was something to worry about.

“Dang, Mary Jane,” Jimmy said. “It is that motherfuckin’ good.”

“Holy moly, Mary Jane.” Dr. Cone took another bite.

“Incredible,” Sheba said.

“Incredible!” Dr. Cone repeated.

Mrs. Cone nodded in agreement, her mouth full.

Izzy and I were serving the angel food cake with strawberries and whipped cream when Sheba said, “So what happened today?Why was it so rough?”

Dr. Cone wiped his lips, put his napkin on his lap, and looked at Jimmy.

“You make this cake?” Jimmy asked Izzy.

“Beanie did,” Izzy said. “She brought it over today.”

“Beanie Jones?” Mrs. Cone’s brow knit into folds. She suddenly looked ten years older. “Is she that new woman who moved indown the street?”

“Yes,” I said. “She dropped it off. I tried to keep her out of the house, but she barged right in.”

“Beanie?” Jimmy said. “We met Beanie.”

“Oh yeah, Beanie,” Sheba said.

“When did you meet Beanie?” Dr. Cone looked unhappy again.

“We were dropping Mary Jane off one night and Beanie popped her head in the window. Nosy little thing,” Jimmy said. “But prettyas a picture.”

“Hush!” Sheba said. “Stop looking!”

“She’s not as pretty as you,” I whispered to Sheba, but I didn’t think she heard me.

“Christ, I hope she doesn’t start spreading the word,” Dr. Cone said. “It’s hard enough as it is.”

“Exactly what happened today?” Sheba asked.

Jimmy had a huge hunk of cake in his mouth. He spoke around it. “I relapsed.”

“What do you mean you relapsed?” Sheba turned in her chair so she was facing Jimmy.

“I used.”

“What do you mean you used? How did you use?”

“I got some junk.”

“WHAT THE FUCK, JIMMY!” Sheba slapped Jimmy’s upper arm with the back of her hand. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” She slapped him again.Harder.

I knew I should pick up Izzy and take her upstairs for her bath, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk away from this scene.Also, I was just as angry as Sheba. It felt like Jimmy had betrayed me by relapsing.

Mrs. Cone pushed her half-eaten cake away, and watched Jimmy and Sheba.

“Don has a friend who has a friend who has a friend.” Jimmy shrugged.

Dr. Cone said, “He met someone in the back alley when we were taking a break, got a bag of heroin, and snorted it.”

“Didn’t have a needle,” Jimmy said.

“What the fuck, Jimmy?!” Sheba’s eyes were flooded, though no tears fell. “I thought we