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he’s worried about Zackery, and he’s just sick with missing you both. It about breaks my heart to look at him.”
    If he really is that flat-out concerned wouldn’t he be at her door, telling her face-to-face instead of using her mama to relay this information? Three tankfuls of gas is not that great a distance.
    â€œIt just breaks my heart,” Melva repeats. “Breaks my heart in two to see the way he misses his boy.”
    The same boy, Opal wants to tell her, the same boy he wanted me to abort the instant he heard a rumor about his existence, the same boy he can’t even be bothered to call and check on. She holds her tongue. With her mama, every conversation is a minefield, every word uttered something that will later be used against her.
    â€œYou know, Raylee, there are plenty of girls in New Zion who would jump at the chance to get a taste of Billy. Just jump. You can’t expect him to sit around forever, just waiting on you. You hear me, girl?”
    Opal can’t even sort out all the emotions this statement provokes.
    â€œRaylee, why are you doing this to him? To your daddy and me? Where is your head, girl? Your heart made of stone? When are you coming home? When are you going to get all this foolishness out of your head and bring our grandbaby back here where he belongs?”
    Opal considers all the answers she can give but takes the coward’s way out. “I don’t know,” she says.
    â€œIf it’s a question of—”
    â€œListen,” Opal breaks in. “I’ve got to get going.” She says the one thing she knows will get her off the hook. “Zack needs me.”
    ZACK DOES NEED HER. BUT HE CERTAINLY DOESN’T NEED Billy, a for-shit daddy whose idea of fatherhood is to teach his son how to pop the flip top on a can of Bud. She can’t imagine why Billy is hang-dogging around her parents. He doesn’t really want Zack. Or her. He just wants what he can’t have. Nothing new about that.
    She zaps her coffee to boiling, then goes to check on Zack. Three days ago, he created a makeshift tent by draping a blanket between two ladder-back chairs. Since then he regularly disappears inside for great lengths of time. A teepee? Cave? Space station? Opal doesn’t dream of taking it down, although Melva would not have allowed something like this to remain in her living room for the better part of one day.
    Items vanish inside. Pillows. A set of toy trucks. A flashlight. Plastic bowls. Food. “Provisions,” he tells her.
Provisions.
She truly can’t imagine where in the world a five-year-old came up with a word like that. He’s so bright it frightens her. She can’t begin to figure out how she’ll manage to raise him. There should be a class in that. She loves him. She knows that for certain. She hopes it’s enough.
    Sometimes she likes to think she just strayed into motherhood, like a character in a movie who drifts on screen and sort of hangs around but doesn’t have many lines to say and no responsibility for the way the story turns out. This altered version is easy to live with, but eventually she has to look at a more complicated picture.
    When she is looking real straight and trying to be honest, she has to ask herself if deep inside she wanted to get pregnant.
    It’s pure fact that that is one of the questions Emily asked her during their first counseling session. Therapy was part of the deal her mama made. Opal could keep the baby, but she had to see a psychologist. Of course this compromise about killed Melva, who still hasn’t forgiven Opal for ruining the family’s reputation. Her mother has an inflated opinion of their standing in town. First thing she did after she married Opal’s daddy was upgrade herself from Methodist to Episcopal. As far as Opal can see, her pregnancy hasn’t yet caused any fatalities for the New Zion rescue squad to contend with.
    Melva got Emily