Tomato Girl by Jayne Pupek

Author:Jayne Pupek
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 1565124723
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2008-08-26T04:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-TWO

DROWNING

JELLYBEAN’S PALE GREEN HEAD surfaced, then disappeared again as he bobbed like a rubber bath toy in the swirling water.

Daddy yanked off his boots and socks and jumped into the river. His arms made large arcs in the river, but he couldn’t keep up against the swift current. Like a seed or leaf tossed into wind, Jellybean’s small body followed the water’s flow.

Tess ran along the edge of the bank. “Please hurry, Rupert, please!” She dug her fingers into her short hair.

At first, I didn’t do anything: didn’t cry, or scream, or run along the bank. I felt numb, like a thousand bees had stung me all at once. Inside my head, I heard the blood hum in my veins. Then the humming in my head swirled and broke into a gushing noise. My knees trembled, and I stumbled forward, taking a few small steps before I broke into a run. I headed up the hill, toward the woods.

Stumps and fallen branches slowed me. I brushed against pine needles, scratching my arms and legs. I thought of Hansel and Gretel and the bread crumbs they scattered so someone could find them. It didn’t matter that I had no bread crumbs. I didn’t want to be found.

The woods, however, were not deep, and I quickly came out the other side and found myself back at the water’s edge, at a point where the river made a bend. Too tired to return, too numb to turn in a different direction, I ran down the sloped bank, slick with mud, then waded into the water.

Without thinking, I kept moving, going out further, letting the water take me. I wanted to be carried to some other place. Any other place. Not here.

Face down in the river, I let myself float like a piece of driftwood. Everything was cloudy, dreamy, and not quite real, just like a slow-motion movie. There were no sounds at all, and yet voices filled my head. Hymns, poems, and chanted words I couldn’t understand. I didn’t even recognize the voices, but somehow that didn’t seem strange to me.

For the first time in days, I didn’t feel afraid anymore. Here, there were no dead babies, tomato girls, or sick mothers. In the river, I could float myself to sleep.

Behind closed eyes, my mind drifted. I could hear voices, but the loudest noise was the water, roaring as it filled my body, pulling me down.

I don’t remember Daddy lifting me from the river. I don’t remember his large hands holding onto me so tight I would find bruises on my arms two days later. My body on the bank, spitting up water and coughing—I do remember that—and Daddy’s mouth over mine, blowing breath into me. Tess stood or knelt somewhere to my side, crying, “Breathe, Ellie, breathe.”

The blue sky came back to me in pieces, like a jigsaw puzzle, then the green undersides of leaves, and my father’s face.

I hurt all over. My arms and legs ached, and deep inside, my lungs and throat felt raw.

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