If you happened to ask me how I got home following Dally's death, I wouldn't be able to tell you if my life depended on it. I suppose one of the boys took me home. Or maybe Karen or Evie.
What I can tell you is that I slept an awful long time afterwards. When I woke up, it was late afternoon. "Hey, sleepyhead, you been out for a while." Evie's voice scared me.
"Hey, Eve," I said, wondering what she was doing there. "It's Monday, in case you were wonderin'." My head hurt and I was stiff all over. I got out of bed and tried to stretch.
"You been here all day?" I asked, and she nodded. "Why didn't you go to school?" She held out a cup of water to me.
"Someone had to take care of you. Don't you remember wakin' up at all? I had to make you get up to eat and have water. Stevie called your dad. Said he'd be comin' home soon, takin' off of work to stay with ya."
I drank the whole glass of water like I'd never had any in my life. We were both avoiding the reason for her being there and me sleeping so much, and we both knew it. "Why don't you take a bath? Kare's comin' over soon to take over for me." I did what I was told.
When I got out I dressed in pajamas. Karen was cooking in the kitchen. "Hey, Brookie!" Her lips were shaky. "Want some food?" The thought made me want to puke. "I'm not hungry."
Her whole face seemed to fall. "Oh. But you need to eat something. You haven't had more'n crackers since Saturday. You know as well as I do Evie can't cook worth a hang." I shrugged. "I ain't hungry," I said again, and went back to my room. If I felt better, I would have noticed that the house was too clean. Instead, I just went to bed.
When I woke up again, it was because someone was shaking my shoulder. "Time to wake up, Baby Doll." Dad hadn't called me 'Baby Doll' since before my mother died. I pulled my pillow over my face.
"C'mon, you gotta get up sometime." I think I said, 'no'. Grabbing my wrists, he pulled me forward. He had opened the curtains, and the bright morning sun hurt my eyes.
"Your friends said you been missin' school. Now, you don't got to go today, but if you miss any more, you're gonna get too far behind." It suddenly occurred to me that Dad looked a great deal like Dally. Same blond hair and blue eyes.
Get tough and nothing can touch you, Dally's voice suddenly sounded in my head. So I dug my nails into my palms, refusing to feel the sadness.
"It's almost time for Thanksgiving break," I said, like that changed anything. My voice was scratchy. Just like Evie, he handed me a glass of water and I drank all of it.
"They said you ain't been eatin', either. You have to eat, Brooklyn." After changing, I ate exactly six bites of the scrambled eggs and toast he set before me. Then I asked to go lay down, saying my head hurt, because it did. He made me lay on the couch, where he could see me and keep me awake.
The phone rang. After talking to someone for a few minutes, Dad said he was leaving and would be back soon. He said he had something to take care of. I didn't know it then, but he had left to identify Dallas's body. The phone rang again, and when I answered, the man on the other line said,
"Hello, Mrs. Winston? I'm calling about arrangements for Dallas Winston's funeral…" I slammed the phone back into place and went back to bed. Dad woke me up again, this time for lunch. He sat across from me, not letting me leave until I ate the entire sandwich.
After lunch, he made me do the make-up homework that Karen had brought me. I did math and English, a history worksheet and science definitions. I ate dinner, again not being allowed to leave until I ate all of it. I took a bath and went to bed. That night started the first night of no sleep.
In the dark, I stared up at the ceiling. When I closed my eyes, I saw Dally's face, so I kept them open. His voice kept playing in my head: Get tough, and nothing can touch you. I fought the sadness all night, telling myself not to cry.
I knew that Dad would stay as long as I acted like I wasn't okay. It's not that my father cared a great deal for me. It might have seemed that way to a total stranger, but I knew the truth. He was good at doing what he should do, whether he wanted to or not.
A father should take care of a sick daughter. A father should arrange a funeral for a dead son. A father should love his children. I reckon two out of three isn't bad.