INFECtIOUS (14 page)

My Butt Hangs Out

I am snuggled
under my covers trying but failing at falling to sleep. Could he be interested
in me? Is it any compliment if he is? He's a zombie. He's probably interested
in anything that wears a skirt. Even if I was super ugly, I'd still be more
attractive by virtue of having uninfected, unspotted skin. Stop thinking about
him Ivy. Stop!

I toss and turn
in frustration, looking for a comfortable position. I should be exhausted. I've
been up since 5:00 a.m. and I've had a long, emotionally exhausting day. I wish
I hadn't
drank
all the milk. Warm milk would be nice
right now.
Maybe some tea.
I climb out from under my
faded rose colored comforter and feel goose bumps breakout on my arms and legs.
The furnace runs less at night and the house gets very cold. I thought we were
past the worst of winter; but, the way the temperature continues to drop, I
wouldn't be surprised if we see snow tomorrow. Slipping my pink holey bathrobe
on, I tiptoe to the kitchen. I'll just put on the tea kettle and make myself
some of Ellen's homemade chamomile tea. That'll help me sleep.

There's a soft
light seeping under the kitchen door. Aunty must've forgotten to turn the stove
light off. She really is getting old. Pushing the door open, I'm once again
shocked to find Matt sitting at our kitchen table. Last night my shock was
revulsion.
Hatred.
Tonight, it's excitement,
nervousness, confusion, and, mostly, extreme awareness of how ugly I am in this
ratty bathrobe.

"Why are
you down
here!
" I blurt from the doorway.

"Hello
to you too."

I cringe. I did
it again. At least he doesn't seem to get offended every time I speak—because
let's be honest, he should.

I take a breath
and start again, "Hi."

Pulling my ugly
bathrobe tighter around me, I bravely step in to the kitchen. He's reading.
That's interesting. I didn't expect him to be a reader.

"You
read?" I say with too much incredulity.

"Yes, Ivy.
Me read," he says in a tired, cave man voice.

An unauthorized
giggle bursts out and I follow it up with a sheepish smile.

He smiles that
half smile back at me. "I know you don't talk to anyone outside of your
angelic town, but I'm guessing you don't have a lot of conversations with guys
in God Town either. You don't seem very good at it."

He's insulting
me. I feel deflated and I
ready
a spiteful comeback.

"Don't get
me wrong, it's actually kind of cute," he says before I can throw out
something rude about him having only whores for friends.

He called me
cute. That repairs most of my hurt feelings.

I return his
half-smile and sit down across from him. "What are you reading?"

"I borrowed
it from the bookshelf in my room. Little Women," he says holding up the
large book with a beautiful scene on
it's
cover. "Every other book on the shelf was religious. I'd rather get in
touch with my feminine side than read about imaginary feelings of loyalty and
self-righteousness. You really need some Tom Clancy or Dean Koontz."

"Who?"

"Never
mind."
Again that disarming, somewhat condescending
smile.

Is it possible
that this zombie is more well-read, more educated, than me? I'm sure his
education and mine would have very little in common. I ignore his jab about the
foolishness of my faith and change the subject.

"Do you
want some tea? That's why I came out here.
For tea."

"Sure.
Thanks."

Standing up to
fill the kettle, I remember that the biggest hole in the bathrobe is right over
my butt. I turn quickly back around and find him looking down at his book and
hiding a chuckle behind his gloved hand. I have
p.j
.
pants on underneath the robe. It's not like I'm indecent.
Still
though.
So embarrassing.

I finish making
the tea while turning myself at odd angles to avoid him seeing my holey butt.
And, as soon as the water boils, I pour our cups. I fill the small metal tea
ball with fresh dried chamomile and tighten the little lid. Using the delicate
chain that hangs from the strainer, I dunk the tea in his mug first and then in
mine. My tea will be weak, but I don't want to waste any more of the tea. It's
almost gone. Unlike my attitudes last night about the venison and the good
china, I find that I don't mind giving him the better cup of tea tonight.
It's
Christian maturity and nothing more, I tell myself.

"I think my
brother is in love with you," He says with the crooked grin.

"Yikes,"
I say, sitting down across from him with my tea cup warming my hands.

"He talked
about you
all day long
. I feel like I
know you really well."

"I hope he
didn't tell you everything."

"I assume
you're referring to your hidden talent of making 'super cool fart noises'. His
words, not mine."

I drop my head
into my hands in horror and scrunch my eyes
closed,
I
was so hoping Thomas hadn't told him about that. There is no way to control
this blush. Matt could see my face glow red in the dark.

"That was
really great of you," he continues softly, and I can tell he's trying to
be serious. "I think you gave him more than you realize. He's happier than
I've seen him in years."

"
Umhphm
," I mumble into my hands.

"Ivy."
Matt's gloved hand is on my arm. I jump in surprise and sit back, pulling my
arms away and off the table.

Matt just shakes
his head at me. Apparently I'm hopeless and predictable. I need to get out of
here before I make myself look any worse.
If that's even
possible.

Tea in hand, I
stand up and start backing towards the door—still trying to keep the big hole
in the back of my bathrobe out of view. "Well, goodnight," I say
pleasantly, as though this has been a normal, completely un-
embarrasing
visit. "Enjoy your book. It's a good one," I say due to a complete
lack of anything else to end the bungling banter.

"Goodnight,"
he says with his crooked smile as I fumble with the doorknob behind my back and
clumsily slip from the room.

Eat My Heart Out

Today is so
opposite from yesterday that it's hard to believe they fell next to each other
on the calendar. I was thrilled when Matt beat Aunty to the kitchen again this
morning and ready this time with a smooth "Good morning, I trust you slept
well?"

Minimal
blushing.

When Aunty
arrived in her bathrobe a few minutes later she found us talking pleasantly at
the table. No chairs overturned or anything. Aunty made eggs and toast and I
enjoyed every bite while visiting almost easily with Matt at the table. After
breakfast, he left for Thomas' house with Aunty as his escort.

Left alone to do
my chores, I am alternating between humming and singing as I vacuum the
threadbare oriental rugs of our sitting room—filling the
echoey
parlor with melody and the clacking roar of the sweeper. The high ceiling makes
my voice sound bigger and more operatic. I haven't belted out in song like this
in ages and I just can't quit grinning about this strange joyful optimism that
has taken hold of me.

Rubbing
lemon-scented oil into the carved wooden mantle above the fireplace, I smile at
the curly haired, pink cheeked girl who smiles back at me from the ornate
mantle mirror. Monday's horror is a fading memory—the only reminder is the
scratch on my neck that seems a little infected today. I keep thinking I'm past
the anxiety of the attack, but the cold fear continues to return when see the
souvenir welt in the mirror. The warm, puffy red cut stands out on my neck and
brings back the terrorizing attack in all its horror. I'd avoid looking in the
mirror altogether but—well I find myself wanting to make sure I look nice. I
keep wanting to smile at myself in the mirror and then stare to see if I think
the person looking back is worthy of my attention, or anyone's attention.
Pulling myself from the mirror's hold, I give a focused burst of effort to the
tasks at hand.

Aunty and I have
been invited to Thomas's for lunch again today. I finish my chores in record
time and have almost an hour to decide what to wear and how to fix my hair.
Keeping the weather in mind, I put on a plush new sweater. It's a dark royal
purple in a soft fuzzy weave that falls almost to my knees. It would look best
with tight leggings, but my old tennis shoes would ruin that look. Jeans it is.
I braid my long curls into pig tails and put a little sparkly
eyeshadow
close to my lashes. I almost never wear makeup
and I'm afraid that if I add anymore Aunty will see right through me.

On the walk to
Jose and Ellen's, I have to slow my giddy skipping steps to stay in pace with
Aunty. She is walking slower than normal and I wonder if it's just to frustrate
me. Not even she can get me down today. I feel sure that God has brought Matt
here for a reason—to save him. I know Matt will feel it too, and he'll decide
to follow God and stay here with us. I just know it. I know it like I know that
the cold sky is gray and the evergreen trees are just a shade darker than
Matt's incredible eyes.

Lunch was
delicious. I feel full, warm, and happy. Matt has winked at me several times in
the last half an hour. I'm still glowing from Ellen's compliments when we
arrived. Something about how "purple is my color and how gorgeous I look
in my new sweater." Not that I remember it word for word and am replaying
it in my head—or how when she said it I blushed and looked away, only to catch
Matt staring intensely at me with that handsome half smile. I'll be honest, I
don't know if I've heard a single word of anyone's conversation I'm so lost in
my own happy glow. My life is finally getting good.

Cue disaster.

The moment that
I've been sure wouldn't happen, does. I am standing up to help Ellen clean up
the table, when Matt clears his throat and thanks everyone for everything. My
hands fall to my
sides,
I can tell goodbye is coming.

I imagine
everyone has been dreading it, skirting around it with pleasant conversation.
Hoping, like me that it just wouldn't happen. Leaning over, Matt whispers
something to Thomas and the poor kid's face falls. We could tell it was coming
and we can guess what was said. Thomas looks lost and confused. I guess he
didn't
know it was coming. He shakes his
head "no" and looks to Ellen.
 

Matt says
quietly, "We'll be leaving after lunch." Then he looks into Thomas'
eyes again and says too cheerfully, "Tom, pack your stuff.
Just what you came with."
 

Does he think
that his upbeat tone will make everything better and Thomas will just run off
at the request of his hero big brother? I'm sure that worked when Thomas was
little, but it's not working now.
 

"Now wait a
minute," Jose says sternly, as though he's a forty year old man when in
reality he's just a few years older than Matt, "we need to talk about
this."

"There's
nothing to talk about. He is my brother, he comes with me. I appreciate how
kind you've been to him. He hasn't had a home in a long time and you've been
awful good to him. The glasses—he really needed those. Thank you. But blood is
important and he needs me. We are going back to Atlanta. End of
discussion."
 
He shrugs his
shoulders as though that pronouncement covers all that needs to be said.
 

Then he looks at
Thomas again and says more seriously, "Tom, I told you to go pack up bud."
 

Thomas looks to
Ellen and she nods at him and smiles sadly, "Go ahead to your room honey
and we'll be in to get you when we're all finished talking."

"Okay,"
is all Thomas says and he looks like his little heart is breaking as he
obediently leaves the room.

Aunty, always to
be counted on when it comes to lecturing, speaks first. "Matthew, Thomas
won't be safe in Atlanta. We shared with you what happened to Ivy and
I
out there. They are hunting people who have been cured.
Have you thought about what life will be like with Thomas living amongst the
rest of the sick ones? I am sure you would do your best to protect him but you
can't be with him every moment. You have to sleep, you have to get food. I
don't know if you work somewhere or how you manage, but at some point they will
take him."

"I can keep
him hidden. He'll be safe with me. I'll keep a mask on him and no one will know
he's different," Matt says without a hint of doubt, humoring her with his
well thought out answer.

"What kind
of life is that for him
?,
" Aunty asks with the
power of "The Force" behind her question. "Pretending to be
sick, hiding from people? And if one person finds out, he could be gone before
you even realize. Gone somewhere you can't follow and find him. We have no
intention of keeping him from you. You are welcome here just as he is. We want
nothing from
him,
we only want good things
for
him. We are hoping you'll decide to
stay here with him."

I'm staring at
Matt, weighing every response, looking for any clue that he'll consider
staying. He meets my eyes and I see nothing behind his. They are cold and
resolute. He has turned back into the guy I met two days ago.
Emotionless.
One of them.
  

Thomas bursts
into the room from where he has been disobediently hiding in the hallway,
listening.
 

"Please
Matt," he begs, "I love it here. I don't want to go. They said you
can stay too and that's perfect! I'm learning to play sports and I get to go to
school and Ellen's the best mom—
"
 
He
trails off sheepishly as he looks
around at all of us. "I love it here," he says to Matt while he's
looking back and forth from me to the floor, his cheeks a light shade of
pink.
 

I am touched to
realized
that I'm one of the things he likes about being
here. I hope it matters. I hope Matt will reconsider. Maybe I could be a reason
for Matt to stay too.

"Please
Matt? Please? I don't want to go back to Atlanta. Maybe you could bring Jesse
here?" 

Who is Jesse!
Please let Jesse be the family goldfish. I can tell Matt is frustrated, his
emotionless facade cracking slightly. His bushy dark brows are furrowed and his
eyes have a green hurricane brewing behind them. We all sit still, waiting to
hear what he'll decide. I suddenly realize I'm holding my breath and I try to
let it out slow and quiet without looking like a dork
who's
been holding her breath.

"I have a
life in Atlanta bud," he says softly. "I don't know anyone here. I
don't have a job here or a place to live. It just doesn't make sense. I've
always taken care of you and you've always trusted me. You
gotta
trust me on this one, ok?"

Crestfallen, I
blurt out, "You could live at the Inn!"

Everyone looks
at me and they all have a different look on their face. Thomas looks thrilled
at this suggestion. Aunty has one eyebrow way up in the air with a look on her
face that says, "Excuse me?" I don't know if she's shocked at my
change of heart or just not okay with my offer. Ellen and Jose glance between
each other and Aunty. I think they were hoping for just such an offer. But
Matt's face is the one I'm really looking at and he is staring at me darkly.
It's very obvious that he's not happy with this suggestion that came from some
madness within me.

Nervous and on
the spot, I start to stammer. "I mean—if you want too—
it's
okay if you don't—uh—you know—whatever."

"I told
you," he says through clenched teeth, "I don't need your charity. I
have a good job and a nice place to live that I like just fine. We are
going," and then with just a hint
of
 
gentleness
he adds, "Now."

I feel tears
spring to my eyes and he returns my watery gaze with a sad but resolute
expression.
 

Jose starts to
argue again and Ellen is crying softly. Aunty keeps trying to "talk
sense" into Matt but he refuses to budge on the matter. At this point,
what can we do? Matt is Thomas' real family. We can't hold Thomas here and risk
Matt's threats of involving outsiders. That would be very bad for the
community. We try really hard to go as unnoticed as possible by the outside
world.
 

Matt walks
Thomas to his room and helps him pack a small bag. Ellen and Jose follow behind
like lost puppies at Thomas' heals, insisting that Thomas take the clothes and
little things they had given him for Christmas. Somehow Jose had found him an
old
Steeler's
jersey, signed by one of the players
before football ended. Thomas told me about the special shirt once when he
visited my office at the U.R. He holds the cherished gift now like a security
blanket. Matt stands stoically by the door and, when the goodbyes seem to not
be ending, he clears his throat and Thomas turns to go with him.

I am crying
openly now. It all seems so wrong. I hate to think of the danger out there for
Thomas. I feel so sad for Jose and Ellen. They really love Thomas and were
making such a great life for him. I loved the kid too; and I know I will
probably never see him again here on earth.
And Matt.
I like him—a lot. I'll admit it. If it would change anything, I would say it
out loud right now. But I can tell by the way he avoids my teary eyes that it
wouldn't. So I keep it to myself and only allow the truth to show in my tears.

As they open the
door and step outside, the drop in temperature is shocking. It is even colder
than it was on the walk over here, only an hour or two ago. The freezing air
rushes into the house and makes Ellen cry harder. It's too cold to send her
sweet boy out on a hopeless trek towards zombie town. The sky is noticeably
darker, like a storm is coming, and big fluffy snowflakes are falling heavily.
We all stand there for a minute, in silence but for Ellen's heartbroken
sobbing, looking at the snow.

Matt voices what
we were all thinking. "I had hoped for better weather. But we'll be okay.
Our first stop isn't far from here."

"Come stay
another night with us and maybe we can come up with something that works better
for everyone," Aunty says with her arm wrapped around Matt's shoulders.

"No. It has
to be now—but thank you."

"You are
welcome to stay here with us, you wouldn't have to be separated from
Thomas," Jose says with the desperation in his voice only thinly veiled.
"Let's go back inside and keep the heat in."