Loving Life

Chapter 7: Mattie

Her car reeks of French fries forgotten between the seats. The smell of decaffeinated coffee dominates the front. Fast-food bags and other random items litter the floor. I have to scrunch my nose the entire way. Nonetheless, when we pull up to a large white farmhouse, I am already dizzied by the smell.

Inside is not much better; the same fumes guide me into the house. The first room is a small kitchen. A bigger man with a fuzzy beard sits at the little round table, drinking a beer. His eyes are bloodshot, and follow me around. Mental note.

"Put that away, Frank. Remember how I've been telling you about a girl named Mattie? No one can care for her right now, so I decided to adopt her." I falter in my steps. The word 'adopt' makes my stomach churn.

Dianne gives me a tour of the house. On the first floor are a small kitchen, boxy living room, and a small greenhouse off of the living room. The second floor has two bedrooms and one bathroom. Our last stop is the smallest bedroom with outdated furniture.

"This used to be my sister's bedroom." Dianne spreads her arms wide to indicate the entire room, her face somber.

I pick up on the words 'used to be'. Before I can stop myself, I ask, "What happened?"

She turns toward me and folds her arms. In a small smile, she explains, "She had a hard time picking herself up after becoming sober a few years ago. And then she had this episode where she thought she was too much of a money drain for us. We had a lengthy argument before it ended with her packing her few possessions and slamming the door in our faces. Never heard of her since." Usually, I never think much about my family's wealth. Until now, hearing about everyone else's' poverty, what a struggle life was. I always thought life was supposed to be happy, healthy, and full of love, and maybe it is. As for now, I have proved life is not as I thought.

Dianne apologizes for a lack of clothes. She also says to take a nice long bath--long enough for her to wash the clothes I arrived in the hospital with. Tomorrow we will head into town and buy things she said.

The tub is from the 1960s at least. The faucet is leaky and rusty. At first I was worried my water would get cold before my clothes were washed and dried properly. I am sure that they will be cold when I step out it is taking this long to fill.

By the time I am finally soaking in the warm, bubbly bath water, Dianne kindly knocks on my door and says, "If you get done within a good forty five minutes, you'll have warm clothes!" I thank her for the update. After this news, I am gratified I can actually soak.

I started to drift off to sleep it felt that good. Dianne wakes me by tapping against the door again, this time saying my clothes were nice and warm. I empty the tub and dry myself, tightly wrapping the towel around my body. I peek outside to make sure Frank was not waiting to come and molest me. No one. I bend down and yank the warm material in with me.

Dianne is out in the kitchen making dinner. Frank still sits at the table with a beer in hand. His eyes skim up and down my skinny body. Feeling my cheeks warm, I wrap my arms around myself, clearing my throat.

"Did that feel nice?" Dianne asks over her shoulder.

"Yeah. Um, need any help?"

She smiles. "I just finished. You can bring over the pots." Tugging at my sleeves, I grip the ends and pick up the casserole dish. It looks like a bunch of noodles drowning in cheesy water.

Dianne squeezes into the corner chair by Frank who continues to stare me down. My gaze fixed to the table like it is the most amazing thing in the world, I hand Dianne my plate and she spoons the soupy mixture onto it. Only do I look up to mutter my thanks that her eyes are also is skimming over my slim body disapprovingly. For a second I think she is going to put another helping on when I am not sure I can eat all of what is on my plate at the moment. My nerves of eating in front of others send my body vibrating. I start cracking my knuckles to tell myself to stop it.

When Dianne has her share, she speaks up and politely asks, "Do you mind if we do a quick prayer?" I shake my head no.

Dianne joins hands with Frank, her free hand open, palm upwards. They bow their heads and Dianne starts muttering something about thanking God for this meal and other things.

I don't mind it. My parents were Catholic, and we went to mass whenever my grandmother came over or we visited her on a Sunday which rarely happened because none of us liked to sit for an hour, sing high pitched songs, and listen to speeches we never understood. Without realizing it, I fold my hands in my lap and bow my head. When they are done, I also look up and we start eating.

Oh. My. God. I have never had anything so good. Although it may be a soup instead of a casserole like it is supposed to be, the state of it not mattering anymore. Suddenly I know I will be eating more servings than the two I started with. Maybe then they will think you're eating too much. Maybe they're poor and this is their only meal for the week. If I ate another portion, I may starve them.

Dianne notices me wrestling with myself. "Are you okay dear? You can have some more. I made a pie for dessert." I smile and force myself to not take another serving along with the pie offered later.

I tuck myself in while Dianne and Frank prepare for bed. Five minutes later, Dianne steps in in a flowery nightgown. Her curly hair cascades down to her shoulder blades, framing her soft face. She perches on the edge of my creaky bed and turns on the 1980s lamp.

"How was today?"

"Good," I lie. And God knows if I will survive.

I close my eyes. However long it takes, nightmares unfold: tornado sirens squealing. I jump out of bed, race to find my parents, but they are nowhere in sight. The tornado rips into my house. That's where I wake up, screaming both in my dream and in real life. Dianne rushes in. She wraps me in her arms, pressing my face into her cherry-scented hair. When I am calmed down, she leaves me to fall asleep although I can't.

"So what do you think of her?" Dianne asks Frank in the room next door. I had managed to find sleep, but not unconscious. Dianne's voice wakes me, and I lay there, listening and holding my breath.

"You wanna know my honest opinion?" Pause. "She's a damn slut. When you go to Oklahoma City tomorrow, make sure she gets real shorts."

"Yes."

"And you wanna know somethin' else?"

"Please."

"Some guy might pick her up wearing those slutty clothes and her damn-skinny body and get her pregnant." I stop breathing for sure. This doesn't sound like the Frank I met who drank a beer all night, who scoured my body for more skin. "I saw what she was thinking about me, too. We've got a lot of fixin' to do, Dianne."

"Yes, we do. But I know she'll change. I promise."

Frank sighs. "I know don't know."

I bite my lip to keep from crying. I kept myself healthy when kids my age began putting on the pounds. Isn't that enough? Hard work pays off in the end, and I worked hard not to add onto my weight.