The Girl in Red

She gestured at her own clothes—a lightweight wicking T-shirt with long sleeves, a gray-and-red striped sweater (also lightweight and wicking), and her customary red hooded sweatshirt over both. On the bottom she wore synthetic cargo pants that would shed water easily if it rained and wicking socks (for her real foot, since her fake foot did not get sweaty) and her well-worn hiking boots.

Mama wore her “Saturday pants”—cheap cotton sweats that she threw on when she wanted to relax. They weren’t very practical for walking a long way, but Mama wasn’t crazy about exercise and so she didn’t even have yoga pants or leggings like all the white women in town. It was sweats or jeans and Mama’s jeans were all the neat, dressy type. On top she wore a cotton T-shirt with the name of her college printed on it. This was about as exercise-ready as Mama got.

Mama’s face was gray and there were lines of strain around her eyes and Red didn’t want to see them there. She didn’t want to acknowledge that Mama was sick because maybe if she pretended it wasn’t there it wouldn’t be true.

(That’s more little-girl thinking, Red, and no wishing and pretending is going to make it so)

Red started unpacking everything in Mama’s pack and sorting it into “keep” and “leave” piles. “Mama, you can’t carry all this. And you haven’t got any food in here, either.”

“Red, about this walk—” Dad started.

“Don’t say we’re not going,” Red said, not looking up at him but continuing with her task. “Don’t say that we’re going to stay here or wait until a patrol comes by because we all talked about it, we decided, and we’re going.”

“Cordelia,” Mama said.

Red had to look up then, because Mama never ever called her Cordelia unless she was really serious.

“Cordelia,” Mama said again, but softer now. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got the sickness. You know it, even if you’ve been trying to pretend that it’s not true.”

“We don’t know for sure,” Red said.

“Yes, we do,” Mama said. “I’m not going to make it to Grandma’s house. I’m not going to make it more than a night or two, if the reports are true. And the longer you all stay here with me the more likely it is that you’ll catch it, too.”

“Don’t tell me to go without you,” Red said, and she was surprised by the fierceness of her voice. “Don’t even try to tell me that.”

“Cordelia,” Mama said for the third time, and three times for anything makes it a spell, a curse, a whisper of magic that can’t be undone.

Red felt her Mama saying her real name deep in her heart, felt all the love and longing of it, the promise that a name was when a parent gave it to her child.

“I know you always hated that name,” Mama said, and she smiled a little. She was speaking slowly so she wouldn’t cough, and Red saw the lines of effort in between her eyes. “You wanted a pretty name, like the girls in your class, and Cordelia was fussy and old-fashioned. But I named you that because Cordelia was strong. She held fast, even when her father banished her for refusing to lie to him. She stayed true, and came to liberate Lear from her sisters even though he’d cast her out. She’s not around much in the play, but she made an impression. Just like you. Even when you were a newborn you made an impression.”

“She dies at the end,” Red said.

“We all die at the end,” Mama said. “What we do before the end is what counts. And you are strong, my Cordelia. You’re a fighter, and I know you’ll get where you want to go because you won’t have it any other way. But I won’t get there just because you want it to be so. I’m going to die right here in my house, Delia, in the place where I loved your father and raised you and Adam and built my life. My happy, happy life.”

Red’s fingers stopped moving over the objects on the table, clenched into fists. “I knew we shouldn’t have gone into town. I knew it.”

“Red, if your mother was going to get sick it could have happened anywhere,” Dad said.

“Don’t give me that hand-of-God bullshit,” Red said angrily. Mama winced, because she didn’t like swearing and she definitely didn’t like anything close to taking the Lord’s name in vain. “I don’t believe in any God guiding all this. We could have avoided this. We could have kept her safe.”

“Red, I know how you feel . . .” Dad said.

“No, you don’t,” Red said. “She’s your wife but she’s my mother, do you understand that? She’s my mother. I’m not going to get another mother. And I could have kept her safe if I’d insisted we stay here. We should have stayed here but nobody ever listens to me. It’s just paranoid Delia talking crazy talk about the government and killer bacteria.”

“Delia,” Mama said. “You have to let me go. You and Adam, you have to take your things and go because I am not going to make it. But you still can.”