Island of Lost Girls - Jennifer McMahon [9]
And he had a seizure, Rhonda would say, having the story memorized.
Thats right, sweetie. He fell against me and I wasnt expecting it. My hand went right into the blade.
Did it hurt bad? Rhonda asked.
No, Clem answered. It happened too fast and then after, I was too surprised. I was in shock.
In shock, young Rhonda would repeat back to him, thinking about electricity, how she was not supposed to go near outlets or play in thunderstorms because of shocks.
It was an accident, Clem would tell her.
But what happened to your fingers? Rhonda would ask, squirming on her fathers lap.
I guess I dont know, Clem would answer.
Rhonda would imagine the fingers lying there in the sawdust on the floor of the mill, still warm.
I think your fingers were lonely for your hand, the little girl would say, and this would make her fatherwho once admitted that on some mornings he thought he could feel himself wriggling those fingers awakesmile a sad and longing smile.
RHONDAS MOTHER, JUSTINE,shuffled into the dining room from the kitchen, her feet in worn pink slippers. She had on her usual outfit: a matching sweat suit; this time, for Easter, shed worn one in pale lavender. She carried a fresh tray of cinnamon buns and placed it in the center of the table.
Justine, Aggie said, her voice thick with an alcohol drawl, youve outdone yourself! Everything lookswon -derful!
Justine nodded and went back into the kitchen to make waffles and, no doubt, hide out in the breakfast nook with a cup of black coffee and a romance novel. Rhonda thought she should go help her mother, keep her company at least, but she found herself planted by the French doors leading from the dining room to the patio, scanning the tree line at the edge of the yard for Lizzy and the rabbit.
Maybe they got lost, Rhonda said to no one in particular. She turned back to see Aggie lean over and pull the cigarette from between her fathers lips and place it in her own, taking a long, deep, lung-killing drag.
Rhonda went back to looking out the window, breathing onto the cold panes of glass to leave a film, then drawing in the condensation. She drew eggs. And a crude-looking rabbit with uneven ears.
There they are now, Peter said. Hed come up behind her and rested his chin on her shoulder, his black-jelly-bean-scented breath hitting her cheek, making her feel warm all over.
Through the trees came the rabbit with Lizzy sitting high up on his shoulders, like an Easter queen in her yellow dress and shoes. She was laughing, swinging a pink basket full of candy as the rabbit jogged with her across the lawn, holding her legs against his chest with huge white paws.
Once inside, the rabbit set Lizzy down, then walked over to Aggie, whispering something in her ear and grabbing her rear end. She leaned back into him, wiggling her butt against him and laughing. She turned around to face him and tugged gently at his crooked white ears.
Take this silly thing off, Daniel, she said, and the rabbit took off his head, tucking it under his arm.
Daniels shaggy blond hair was sticking up at funny angles. He had a thick walrus mustache, which hed had the whole time Rhonda knew him. It was the kind of mustache food got caught in. The kind that tickled when he leaned down to kiss your cheek or blow on your belly button.
Peter snuck up and snatched the rabbit head from him, dropped it over his own head. Daniel let out a howl of mock rage and chased Peter around the dining room table. Lizzy squealed with delight and took Rhondas hand to watch the chase. Justine came out of the kitchen, pink-covered romance novel in hand, to see what all the fuss was about. Aggie reached into Clems pocket and grabbed his pack of unfiltered Camels, shook one out, and lit it with a match from the book Clem kept tucked in the cellophane. She crossed her arms and watched the chase through a haze of smoke, her eyes focused not on her husband or son but on the French doors beyond them, which had been left open. Aggie looked out onto the patio expectantly, as if she was