By the time we got to Curtis Street it was completely dark. Ken's vehicle wasn't in the driveway. Hands on the glass, I peered into the garage door window and could only see Nancie's car inside.
"Nancie said something about Ken not being home all day," my mom said, making her way to the front walkway. "Who knows, maybe he talked to Nancie at some point and made up his mind he wasn't coming home right away."
The lights in the living room and back bedroom were on, the television was too, reflecting repeated off the top of the casement window frames. We rang the doorbell and quickly got an answer from the dogs.
"Shutup!" a shrill voice echoed from behind the door.
A second later a shadow took up space in the tall decorative window beside the door.
"Oh, what are you guys doing here?" Nancie slurred as she opened the door.
My mom moved passed her and made her way up the steps, "We want to know what's going on."
"Why'd bring Jonathan?" I think she said, looking down at her own outfit. She was wearing lose fitting sweatpants and a stained white tee shirt hanging off one shoulder. "Don't him to see me like this."
"Don't worry about it," I smiled at her. The situation was more awkward than I thought it would be. Her hair was down and stood up in spots like spider webs bending in a light breeze. Her eyelids drooped and opened half way when she attempted to blink, revealing her beady, bloodshot eyes.
Nancie looked up to me with veneration, quickly blinking and nodding her head. Her lips quivered but remained silent. Unsure how to react, I turned and made my way up the steps.
"My god, Nancie," my mom said, with the same shocked tone she would give to show her disappointment when she discovered I ran through mud with my new shoes or broke a fifty dollar wine glass because it had to be used as part of a Lego tower.
Nancie came up the steps without shutting the door, "Jonathan, you're so handsome. Just loo at you." She continued her stare.
What could I say to her? What could I do? Did my mom want me to say something? She was more of an adult than I was, she knew Nancie far longer than I did. I wasn't even that comfortable around my godmother, especially after her midnight phone calls, definitely not now.
For the next twenty minutes my mom and I (mostly my mom) attempted to talk with Nancie--all to no avail. After a short while it was clear we were getting nowhere. Not only could she not comprehend our pleas to find out why she was depressed and threatening suicide, she stopped attempting to talk with us and got easily caught up with imaginary friends (it seemed) and mumbled conversations with herself.
My mom sighed and whispered to me, "Let's go, she's too far gone. She just wanted attention."
She told Nancie goodbye and went down the steps to the front door. I stayed behind and took another look at my godmother, mouth open, lightly moaning. I touched her arms and hugged her, "Maybe you should try and lay down or something, go to sleep."
Nancie looked up at me with the same dumb look of reverence she had moments before. I left her frozen in her pose and walked out the front door, closing it behind me.
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