Mary Jane by Jessica Blau (best motivational books .txt) 📕

when it was only Dr. Cone’s fingertips on Mrs. Cone’s lower back. I didn’t want to get in their bed. I didn’t want my body to touch their sheets. I couldn’t stop myself imagining them having sex on and beneath those sheets. Still, I had to muffle the noise somehow. If my mother heard anything suspicious, she would get in the car and drag me home.

I picked up the body of the phone and held it against my belly. Then, as if I were about to go underwater, I took a deep breathand got in the Cones’ bed, under the quilted orange bedspread. I pulled the bedspread over my head. It smelled loamy and warm,like a wet towel that had been left in a closed-up car. There was quiet for a second, and then faint grumbling from Dr. Cone.I dialed the last number and said a prayer, Please, God, may no one yell while I’m on the phone.

My mother answered on the first ring.

“Mom,” I whispered.

“Is everything okay?” I imagined my mother standing up straight in the kitchen, the white floor mopped so clean you couldsee your reflection in the tile, the avocado-colored appliances gleaming from a spray-down with Windex.

I made myself speak in a regular voice. “Mrs. Cone is really sick and Dr. Cone asked if I could stay the night. Izzy seemsscared and upset.” Lie four. The most complex and complete of the bunch.

“Is she vomiting?”

“Yes.”

“Chemo,” my mother said.

“I don’t know. They don’t tell me.”

“I’ll drive up and bring you an overnight bag with a nightgown and a toothbrush.”

“Dr. Cone gave me one of Mrs. Cone’s clean nightgowns. And he gave me a brand-new toothbrush and my own tube of toothpaste,too.” When my best friends slept over, my mother asked them to bring their own toothpaste, as she didn’t think it was sanitaryfor people to slide their brushes over the same spot on the tube.

“But what will you wear tomorrow?”

“I need to throw a load of wash in the laundry anyway.”

“Because of the vomit?”

“Yes.”

“Add just a couple of tablespoons of bleach to help sanitize everything.”

“Okay.”

“It won’t bleach your clothes if you use less than a quarter cup.”

“Okay.” I heard muffled yelling and covered the mouthpiece with my hand, shut my eyes, and prayed again. God must have heard,because my mother didn’t seem to.

“How was the chicken?”

“They loved it. They said it was the best meal they’d ever had.” Finally I could speak the truth.

“Very good, dear. I’m glad you succeeded with that.”

“Mom, I’ve got to go. I have to take care of Izzy.”

“I understand. I’ll see you tomorrow at the end of the day.”

“Okay. Good night, Mom.”

“Good night. And remember, just two tablespoons of bleach. And look closely at the labels on their clothes before you putanything in the dryer.”

“I will.”

“And you know to clean the lint filter before each dryer load, right?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Okay, Mary Jane. Good night.” My mother hung up before I could respond.

I pushed the quilt down and breathed in the cool, clean air. Then I rolled out of the bed and returned the phone to the nightstand.

I paused in the hallway. The voices were calmer now. Sheba and Jimmy weren’t yelling. And even Dr. Cone’s voice sounded lessgrumbly. I wanted to make sure that Dr. and Mrs. Cone were okay with me spending the night. And maybe I could borrow a nightgownfrom Mrs. Cone. I had laundered two of them earlier in the day.

Mrs. Cone’s voice floated for a second before Sheba started up again. I moved to the top of the stairs and slowly made myway down. My legs were watery and my heart felt like a Slinky flipping down an endless staircase inside my chest.

As I approached the living room, the four of them looked up at me. Sheba was on the couch. Her wig was off and her face wasstreaked with black mascara. Dr. Cone was sitting in the leather chair. He looked calm but still had that half-angry scowl.Jimmy sat on the floor, his head resting on the coffee table. And Mrs. Cone was beside Sheba on the couch. Her wig was stillon. Surrounding them, on the floor, the table, the couch, everywhere I could see, were all the books from the shelves. Izzyand I had been discussing alphabetizing the bookshelves but hadn’t started yet. I had a moment of thinking that maybe thisdisshelving would make that task easier.

“Uh, Izzy wants me to stay with her tonight. She’s scared.”

“Excellent idea,” Dr. Cone said.

“May I borrow a nightgown?”

“Absolutely!” Mrs. Cone started to stand up, but Sheba took her hand and pulled her back down to the couch.

“Mary Jane,” Sheba said very seriously. “Go in my and Jimmy’s room, go in the closet, and find the prettiest nightgown you see. Whatever one you like, you can have. But you have to choose the prettiest one. Do you understand? It’s very important that you take the best nightgown there. Can you do that?”

“I think so.” I wanted to ask which one was the best, but I knew I was inserting myself, interrupting, and if I didn’t leavethe room soon, an emotional explosion might happen right before me.

“Good. Only the best one.”

“Okay. Good night.” I turned to walk away.

“Good night, Mary Jane,” Sheba said.

“Good night, Mary Jane,” Mrs. Cone said.

“Good night, Mary Jane,” Dr. Cone said.

And then Jimmy shouted, “Mary Jane, you are a saint and I fucked up! I’m a stupid fucking shit—”

Before he could say more, Sheba was outyelling him. I rushed up the stairs, my heart thumping, and hurried into Izzy’s room.

Izzy sat up. “Did your mom say yes?” Her eyes were like night-lights, catching the glow from the streetlamp outside her window.

“Yes. I’m going to grab a nightgown and brush my teeth.”

“You can use my toothbrush.”

“I’ll just use my finger.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be right back and then I’ll get in bed with you and we’ll shut the door and we can sing a song if you want. Or we canread Madeline. Or we can just go to sleep.”

“And the witch won’t come