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30.
When Jimmy Mendez, 9, got out of Annette Lewis' car, and saw his cousin Maribel Walesky, 10, waving to him from the porch of the Waleskys' house in Linda Vista, Jimmy did something he had never done before. He ran up to the house, seeing Maribel waving and dancing with happiness to see him. He ran up the stairs onto the wooden porch, and embraced her. It wasn't a rough embrace, but a tender, needy one. Maribel seemed astonished at first, then a little embarrassed. Maribel looked at the strange black woman in the fine business suit walking up to the house. The woman nodded. Maribel knew then it was okay, even necessary, to hug her cousin. Maribel comforted him for a minute or two, tousling his hair and rocking him back and forth while he clung to her, eyes closed, cheek on her shoulder. The woman climbed the stairs. "Hi, I'm Annette Lewis."
Maribel extended a hand. "I'm Maribel." She was a tall, slender girl with long dark hair and big dark eyes. She had a pink mouth and lean face still soft with the last echoes of baby fat.
"Is your momma home, Maribel?"
"Yes." Maribel put her arm around Jimmy's back and guided him toward the door. "Come on, Jimmy, let's get you some chocolate milk or something."
Jimmy felt drained and let her guide him. She'd grown a few inches and towered above him since last time he'd seen her, when they were the same height. The feel of her warm skin, and the smell of her, were familiar and good. The Waleskys' house smelled as it always did, a cross between Polish sausage and Mexican frijoles and a half dozen ethnic dishes.
Aunt Nellie came out of her kitchen, wearing an apron over good clothes. "Jimmy! For Heaven's sake, child, what is going on with your family? Come on in, Miss—"
"Annette Lewis," Jimmy heard the nice lady say. "I have temporary power of attorney papers here for Jimmy's custodianship. Are you Mrs. Walesky, his aunt?"
"I sure am," Aunt Nellie said with that way people have of talking when they are missing a few teeth. Sure becomes Fure, sort of. Aunt Nellie had a heart of gold and could be relied on for a safe, secure place to be—a second home with mom's older sister, the next best thing to mom herself.
"I have a few questions for you," Jimmy heard Annette say.
"Sure," Aunt Nellie said. Fure.
Jimmy, realizing he had not slept well in days, walked or crawled toward the livingroom couch. He remembered times when he was being babysat, and was not feeling well, and Aunt Nellie had made a nest for him with blankets on this couch, and he'd recovered there from the flu while watching cartoons and eating dry, sweet cereal. Now he sought that same refuge.
He heard Maribel say: "Jimmy, what's the matter with you? Want a blanket?"
He nodded, and curled up in a ball on the couch which smelled of dust and stale chips and Uncle Ernie's farts and all kinds of other reminders of several thousand evenings of family TV watching. He felt Maribel's soft hands tossing a blanket over him, and sighed as the blanket descended in a sheltering cover over his trembling body. He felt the warmth of Maribel's bony but soft body as she sat beside him and stroked his hair. They had fought some angry battles in the past, a lot of it due to his temper, but he resolved never to be mean to her again, and to be understanding when she was being selfish or snooty.
As he drifted off into feverish sleep, he heard Annette say: "So tell me a little bit about your husband, Mrs. Walesky."
"Fure. Well, he's a good man, basically, when he aint' drinking. He's a sailor, you know, and he has a way, when he gets into port and gets paid, of stopping here and there and eventually arriving here in a taxi half-broke and half-beat up. He still brings home a good wage, and he's a good man when he's sober, so I aint' kickin'."
"Where is Mr. Walesky now?"
"Darned if I know. He was due in on the same ship as Jimmy's dad. I've tried calling Jimmy's folks a bunch of times, and can't get through to my sister."
"Mrs. Walesky, the boy has been suffering from some traumatic nightmares. He believes his mom and dad have been somehow—I can't quite explain because it's a child's nightmare and it's not quite coherent—somehow been eaten by giant mushrooms or something."
"Oh, is that so? Ain't that weird," Jimmy heard Aunt Nellie say. He could understand why nobody would believe his story. He had trouble believing it himself, except when he thought about it, he always arrived at the same point: I saw what I saw.
"Children who have these ideations have often been through some severe trauma that makes them substitute a fantasy for something real that is too hard for them to process. I'm going to recommend strongly that Jimmy comes back to Children's Hospital for regular counseling visits so he can get medical and psychological assessments. Understand what I am saying?"
" You think someone's been—doing something to him?"
"I'm not saying anything, Mrs. Walesky. All we know is that Jimmy is having a very hard time, and his mother has turned him over to you because obviously she is unable to cope. Do you know if his parents have been having difficulties?"'
"No, can't honestly say I do. His dad, Jimmy Sr., never drank, unlike my dear old how-do-you-do Ernie. Maria went through college, unlike dumb old me, and works as a nurse. I have never had any idea that anything was wrong, but then you never know, do you?"
"You're right, Mrs. Walesky, and that is the major point. One never knows what is going on in a family until its most vulnerable members say Ouch."
Jimmy heard Aunt Nellie say: "I almost wish it was mushroom monsters. That would be so much simpler, wouldn't it?" She sighed. "Well, I should be used to it. Ernie is a licensed airplane pilot also, you know? Sometimes, he puts the buck ahead of all else. Maybe someone hired him to do a flying job, and he's just forgotten to call me. Ernie would forgot like that. He's a good man though. He'll come home with a wad of dough. Seven sheets to the wind, but he always takes care of his family. We just got to wait and see."
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