The Entirely Fabricated Story of Lizzie Nickerson

Chapter 17

Maribeth gradually developed an appreciation for her Aunt Sonya. Her lifestyle was far less chaotic and impulse-driven than Indigo's. There was something soothing about Aunt Sonya's neurotypical predictability.

The weekend passed without incident, with Maribeth sleeping on Sonya's bedroom floor at night and sitting at the guest room window by day, watching, always watching the activities down on the streets. Because her mind was wired for pattern recognition, she sought them out, studying which people walked particular routes, how often they passed by the apartment building, and how many blue cars parked on the street.

After breakfast on Sunday, Sonya realized that her sister had provided no information on Maribeth's school, not the location, not even the name. She called the phone number listed for the Nashville Hemp Expo, and after multiple attempts was unsuccessful at speaking to an actual person. She left a message for Indigo Finch but as the hours ticked away, it was apparent that she had no other option but to rely on Maribeth.

Sonya found Maribeth at the window in the guest room. "Did you get your homework done for school tomorrow?" she asked.

"I don't have any homework."

"Are you sure?"

Maribeth didn't respond.

"I washed your blue pants and that pretty red shirt."

Again, no response.

"So, I guess that's what you'll wear to school tomorrow."

Maribeth leaned forward, watching a woman walking her dog along the sidewalk.

"So, what's the name of your school? Maribeth?"

"That's either a sheepadoodle or a bernedoodle. It's hard to tell from up here."

"Maribeth. What school do you go to?"

"Westwood. Westwood Elementary."

"Are you sure that your school is Westwood Elementary?"

"Oh, geez. That's where I go every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Why would I make up something like that? That doesn't even make sense."

"No, I guess it doesn't."

So Monday morning, with Maribeth dressed in her blue pants and pretty red shirt, Sonya accompanied her to Westwood Elementary. She watched the little girl for signs of distress, discomfort, or anxiety but Maribeth wore her familiar blank expression.

When they arrived at Westwood Elementary, Maribeth didn't speak to anyone and no one spoke to her as he shuffled toward the entrance of the building. Sonya hoped this wasn't an indication that Maribeth was at the wrong school. She stood outside the building for thirty minutes half-expecting some irate adult to escort Maribeth out, but that didn't happen. Reluctantly, Sonya went home.

Sonya explained that Tuesday was her weekday off. It was a good time to clean the apartment and do laundry. Maribeth wanted nothing to do with cleaning the apartment and doing laundry. Luckily for her, she was at school for most of Tuesday. But when she got home from school, Aunt Sonya sat in the living room and folded her laundry while watching 'her stories.'

Maribeth didn't like television. It made her dizzy. And the TV shows Aunt Sonya watched on laundry day also made her stomach hurt.

At dinner time on Wednesday, Sonya inquired about Maribeth's school day. As usual, it took repeated attempts to focus the little girl. 

"Did anything interesting happen today at school?"

Maribeth chomped on her carrot sticks and apple slices, lining up the carrot sticks in a neat row. Through a mouthful of crunchy food, she said, "There's a crack that looks like a giraffe."

"What crack?"

"In the wall."

Sonya looked around. "Which wall?"

"At school. It looks just like a giraffe."

"A crack that looks like a giraffe. Hmmmm."

"Ms. Abbott doesn't like me looking at it. She wants our eyes forward when we're singing. I'd rather look at the giraffe than her. I don't like the way she looks at me. And she's not a very good singer. What's so bad about looking at a giraffe anyway? I mean, geez, I sang just as good when I was looking at the giraffe as I did when my eyes were forward."

"Well, Maribeth, you'll find that there are a lot of times during our lives when we need to do things that we don't want to. Nobody gets to do what they want all the time."

"My momma does."

"Eat your apples, Maribeth."

........

Maribeth got off the floor and shook her sleeping aunt awake.

"What?" Sonya mumbled groggily. 

"The buzzer. It could be Momma!" said Maribeth.

BZZZZ. BZZZZ.

As Sonya wiped the sleep from her eyes, she heard it. She slipped out from beneath her covers and made her way through the darkness of her bedroom into the kitchen where a shaft of moonlight cut across the tile floor.

"Who is it?" Sonya asked.

"Hey, Sis. It's me."

"Momma!" Maribeth shouted.

Sonya buzzed Indigo into the building. "Shhhhh!" she said to the excited girl. "The neighbors are sleeping."

A few minutes later, they heard knocking. The moment Sonya opened the door, Maribeth pushed her way past and then came to an abrupt stop. "Who's that?" she said.

"This is Vernon," Indigo replied, gesturing to a young guy wearing a droopy mustache and a man bun. "He's gonna drive us home."

"Oh," Maribeth replied, now rigid.

"What's happenin'?" he said.

"I didn't expect you at this hour," said Sonya, her voice like sandpaper on metal. She stepped back to allow Indigo and her guest to enter. "Let me get my robe." She darted back into the bedroom.

'No hang-ups here," said Vernon, an intoxicated grin peaking out from beneath his mustache.

"Hey, little one." Indigo grinned. "Aren't you happy to see your momma?" She brushed away a lock of hair from her glassy eyes.

Maribeth's eyes remained on the stranger.

Her mom squatted and then wrapped her arms around her daughter. "Don't be a drag," she said.

Sonya returned, tying the belt of her robe. "It's late, Indigo. Why don't you stay here with me and Maribeth?"

"I can dig it," said Vernon.

"Not you," said Sonya.

"Don't be so uptight, Sis," he said.

"I'm not your Sis," Sonya replied.

"Come on, babe." He pulled Indigo close. "Let's crash at your pad. I don't need the hassle."

"Maribeth," Sonya said gently. "Do you want to stay here tonight with me and your momma or go home with her and Vernon?" She said the word, 'Vernon,' like she was choking on a mouse.

"She's not your kid." Indigo adopted an attitude. "I'm not gonna let a six-year-old make life decisions for me."

"Come on, babe," said Vernon. "Let's split."

"Momma, I want you to stay here with me," said Maribeth.

"I'll drive you home in the morning," said Sonya. "There's a bed in the guest room with fresh sheets."

Vernon whispered to Indigo, "She's playing mind games with you. Layin' a heavy guilt trip."

"Let's stay here," said Maribeth, her tone uncharacteristically emotional.

"I'm tuned into the vibe," said Vernon. "I'm gonna split." He pulled Indigo into a deep kiss, his hands moving inappropriately, set her free, and then rumbled down the stairs, hollering, "Later."

A tiny hint of a smile formed on Maribeth's face.