Death Before Facebook

undressed her, hoping against hope she wasn’t going to blister.
    She remembered she had some aloe vera and stripped the child.
    She had gotten Caitlin out fast enough—either that or her heavy overalls had saved her. And Lenore’s own hand had protected the baby’s head.
    But why did I hold her head under the faucet? What was I thinking of?
    When Caitlin was in bed, Lenore did the rest of the coke, not caring if she lived till morning.

CHAPTER NINETEEN
     
    SKIP WOKE TO a loud knock the next day, and tumbled grumpily out of bed, feeling as if she had a hangover. She’d awakened a few times in the night, cold and fretful, and she was still both.
    Dragging a blanket, she stumbled onto the balcony.
    “Beignets! Time for beignets!” Kenny hollered, happier than a whole kindergarten class.
    “Uncle Jimmy said to get you,” Sheila said quietly, obviously trying to maintain dignity in the face of Kenny’s exuberance. Yet she too didn’t seem averse to the plan, which, where Sheila was concerned, meant a lot. Skip wondered if the whole house of cards would collapse if she didn’t go.
    Probably, she decided.
    “Five minutes.”
    Fifteen minutes later, the four of them were sitting in the Cafe du Monde, the two adults trying fitfully to read the
Times-Picayune
, the two kids trying to kill each other.
    And yet, the attempted murders were much more light-hearted than usual, more like a brother and sister fighting, less like Desert Storm revisited.
    Either that or Skip was getting used to it.
    “Hey, when can I see Darryl again?” asked Sheila.
    “He called last night to see how you are.”
    “He did? Do you think he likes me?”
    “Yes. I do think he likes you. But he’s too old to be your boyfriend, if that’s what you mean.”
    She looked disappointed. “But, if he really likes me—”
    “Anyway, he’s black,” said Kenny.
    Sheila said, “What’s wrong with that?”
    “Black people and white people don’t date. Do they, Uncle Jimmy?”
    “Well…” He hesitated. “Sometimes they do. But it doesn’t happen every day. I guess you could say that.”
    Sheila was indignant. “Why not?”
    “It’s just not easy, I guess.”
    “But if people really, really like each other, they can do anything they want.”
    Skip saw him choosing his words carefully. “The world we live in just isn’t set up for certain things.”
    “Uncle Jimmy, you’re a racist!” Sheila’s face was red.
    “I’m a…? Auntie, help me out.”
    “Uncle Jimmy isn’t a racist He’s trying to tell you the world is screwed up.”
    “No, he’s not! He’s a racist!”
    “If it’s not one thing,” murmured Jimmy Dee, “it’s another.”
    They were silent on the walk back, Sheila fuming, Kenny racing on ahead, and Skip coming to a conclusion: She was going to call Darryl as soon as she got home.
    Why, she wasn’t sure, any more than she was sure why she sometimes overate. Maybe it was Kenny’s blithe contention—the prevailing one—that white people couldn’t date black people. Maybe it was the man himself. He was a spectacular person (almost she realized, too good to be true). And maybe it was like eating ice cream when your boyfriend disappointed you, which hers most assuredly had.
    Some things you did to make yourself feel better, some things you did because something inside you, something you couldn’t name, was calling the shots.
    When they were in the courtyard, just as she was turning towards the slave quarters, Jimmy Dee said, “Don’t forget. You’re babysitting tonight.”
    She
had
forgotten. At her puzzled look, he said, “Out-of-town client dinner? Remember?
    Well, hell. She could do that.
    She didn’t take off her jacket to dial. “Hi. Did I wake you up?”
    “Uh, no, I… Skip? Is that you?”
    “Yeah. You’re asleep.”
    “Well, that’s good. Means you didn’t wake me up. I hate it when someone wakes me up. You want to have breakfast?”
    “I’ve already had it. How about lunch?”
    “Thinking ahead. Good. Least you know where your next meal’s coming from.”
    “I’m going to be at work. Where do you live?”
    “Uptown. Hey, I know what. Let’s go to the zoo—they have good food and we could go for a walk afterwards. See some bears or something.”
    “I like ’gators.”
    “You like ’gators? I love ’gators. ’Cept those white ones—aren’t there enough white things in the world?”
    “I guess your students don’t read Moby Dick.”
    “Sure they do. The whale