Loving Life

Chapter 25: Ervin

You would imagine it takes two days to make the jams, and maybe a day or two for the pies. It's been five days since our last conversation, and Mattie still won't answer my text messages or phone calls. I'm half tempted to ask Brenda if she would mind if I went over and checked on her. Eventually, I gather the courage and do.

            "Okay," she says warily, "but then if you want to have that garage sale you're talking about before school starts, you best be getting your butt moving." I nod my thanks and rush off to Gloria's creaky old car. I make a mental note to actually buy a car sometime soon.

            The drive is shorter than I thought it'd be. Within twenty minutes, Mattie's house rises into the sky like a skyscraper. For some reason, it makes me shrink like it really is a skyscraper, even though it's only two stories tall.

            But there's something else in her yard that makes my heart skip a beat and maybe the reason I shrink away:

            FOR SALE. LIST PRICE: $350,000. IF INTERESTED, CALL THE NUMBER BELOW.

            What? No! I'm the closest to Mattie I've ever been before. And now she's dropping the bomb on me by moving? Through my anger, a small light shines. Maybe she's moving closer—like on Gloria's street—or somewhere else in Langston. But no matter how big that hope is, my anger envelopes it. I storm up to the door, nearly breaking it I knock so hard.

            Dianne sighs when she sees it's me. Why would she be relieved, I wonder?

            "Hey, Ervin. Whaddya need? You couldn't have driven that half hour just to say hi to me or Mattie."

            "Yeah. Speaking about her, you guys done baking your pies and jams?" I ask.

            "Yes. Mattie asked if we could bake you a pie, right? Peach?"

            "Sounds right."

            "Follow me. I'll get it for you, sweetie. Want a slice now? I can give you some ice cream made from our own cows. Come inside. You must be exhausted. Have some lemonade. It's freshly squeezed from our fruit trees now that there's enough ripe to make a batch."

            "You make almost everything from scratch. Enjoy it?"

            Her voice takes on a far-away tone. "Yeah." I keep wondering what's wrong. There's her voice, and then there's this completely different feeling inside, different from last time--even so, that was outside. What is it? Ahh...this is going to kill me.

            Dianne grabs two glasses, sets them on the table, and fetches the pitcher from the fridge. When she is sitting across from me, I ask, "Where's Mattie? Resting?" We laugh. I've heard Dianne laugh bigger, longer. Depressed, that's it. It may not be the exact word, but close enough.

            "I wish. I guess in a way she is, only I can't tell for sure since she's had her door locked for two days and only comes down at night to grab food when we aren't watching."

            "Why?" I wrap my fingers around the cool glass. Water runs down its sides as does sweat down my spine.

            Dianne sighs, making the depression worse. "Two days ago, the IRS stopped by and decided to sell my house because I've owed so much for so long."

            What? My eyes widen. She seemed financially fit and responsible. Well, not as wealthy as I was, but middle class. If only I knew how much she owed, I would help ease the pain. I know that would be rude.

            "I'm sorry. Is there any way I can help?" I start to dig out my wallet stuffed with over one thousand dollars in one-hundreds. Dianne waves it away, but I know she tilts her head to eye it greedily. I have enough money that I think I can handle a thousand dollar loss.