Ebby
Ebby
E bby hears her mother’s car. She recognizes the distinctive hum of the hybrid auto as it slows to a stop at Mr. and Mrs. P’s house. Ebby and her dad head out the front door with Mr. and Mrs. P following close behind. Her mother is approaching with a basket full of blackberries. With a cool air, she turns her cheek for Ed to kiss it, but does not linger. Then there are exclamations and hugs. Mrs. P and her mom reach for each other the way a person might reach for a lifesaver in a stormy sea. They are each other’s proof of survival.
Ebby, suddenly, feels very tired. Her mind takes her back, to where it always goes. To the study of her first home. Mrs. P is there, checking Baz’s pulse and breath. Then she is speaking into the phone with the 911 woman. She puts the receiver back on the floor, pulls off the cotton jacket she is wearing, balls it up, and pushes it against the wound high on Baz’s chest.
“Ebby,” she says, “can you hold this in place? Yes? Keep it there, even when I move around.”
Mrs. P pinches Baz’s nostrils shut, puffs two breaths into his mouth then shifts her hands to his rib cage, near his stomach. She puts one hand over the other, links her fingers together, and starts to push at his chest. Then another two breaths. Then back. She mumbles to herself as she presses down. One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three one thousand. Mrs. P keeps doing this, over and over again, until the paramedics arrive.
But Mrs. P knows already, doesn’t she? Just as Ebby knows. Baz has already left them. Later, her mom will say that Baz has gone to heaven. And Ebby will wonder, if God was the one who made heaven, then why couldn’t he just send Baz back to them?
Ebby blinks, and she is back in the present, sitting in the Pittses’ living room. The smells of coffee and pie drift in from the kitchen. She watches as her father reaches for her mother’s hand. Her mother lets him take it but doesn’t look his way. Her mom is still pissed. But Ebby feels herself exhale. There is something about looking at those two together, even with the tension between them, that makes her feel grounded.
Will it ever be that way for me? Ebby wonders. Will she ever be so far into a relationship, one that works, that it will be able to bear up under the pressures that life can bring? Later, when she is alone with both of her parents, she will tell them how sometimes she feels guilty for wanting to be happy, even though Baz is gone.
But she does.
Want to be happy.
She does.
After Ebby and her parents say goodbye to their old neighbors, she says, “Dad, do you want to ride back in Mom’s car? I could drive yours.” Her father’s face brightens at the suggestion, but her mother cuts in.
“That’s all right,” her mom says. “I’m all right on my own. You two go ahead.”
Oh, dear, Ebby thinks. Oh, dear.