Everything Is Fine. by Ann Dee Ellis Page A

AND HALF A PIG : oil on canvas

KANSAS
    My dad thinks I’m going to live in Kansas and my mom is going to a treatment center.
    I find the football pads.
    I find some cleats.
    I find some old jerseys.
    They are all in a box and I pull them out of the closet while doing yoga breaths.
    Dad is in the kitchen on his cell when he sees me with the box and he says, “Hang on a minute” into the phone and then says
     to me, “What’re you doing, Maz?”
    “Nothing.”
    He looks at me.
    “Can we talk?”
    I start pulling the box across the tile.
    “Maz?”
    I pull it to the carport door and then I turn and look at him.
    “Maz? This isn’t permanent.”
    Not permanent. Lie.
    I close my eyes and do three karate chops at him. Hard. Fast. And then I go out the door.
FOOTBALL PADS
    I go behind the Spyder and put on the pads and one of the jerseys and the cleats.
    Then I go and sit in the Dean Machine.
    I could get in trouble but I don’t care.
    Dad is watching from the window, I’m sure.
    Probably everyone is watching.
    I hope that Colby is watching.
    I am in the Dean Machine for six minutes when Norma comes out.
    “What’s going on?” Norma is standing by the side of the boat.
    “Nothing.”
    “Nothing?”
    “Nope.”
    She has purple lipstick on but I don’t care.
    “I like your football clothes.”
    “It’s a uniform.”
    “Oh.”
    “I’m going to be an LB on the team.”
    “An LB?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “What’s an LB?”
    “A linebacker.”
    “Huh. I’ve never heard anyone call a linebacker an LB.”
    I do a yoga breath. “You probably don’t know anything about football.”
    I won’t look at her but I can feel her trying to be friends again.
    “Nope, I don’t.”
    “I do.”
    She is quiet.
    I pretend like I am turning the wheel of the boat. Colby says it’s easy to drive. Easy to drive the Dean Machine and probably
     easy to drive the Spyder.
    “Mazzy,” she says all quiet, “Mazzy . . . I’m going to try to explain one more time. After that it’s up to you.”
    I wish I had the key to the Dean Machine.
    “I have bad health and I’ve been trying to get better.”
    “So,” I say.
    “So, I eat too much.”
    “Yeah. I can see that.” I am being mean. She clears her throat and is about to say something when I say, “It doesn’t matter.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “It doesn’t matter,” I say again. And it’s true.
    “Okay.” She wipes some sweat from her neck. “So, can we be friends again?”
    “Not right now.” She doesn’t know that we can never be friends because I’m leaving.
    “Okay. Later?”
    “Maybe.”
    That’s when a door slams and it’s Colby.
BELLY BUTTONS
    When ladies get pregnant, their belly buttons stick out. Even if they were innies before, they go out after a while.
    And the skin looks like elephants.
    Mom and me, we’d look at her belly button and I’d try to poke it back in.
    “Maz, it won’t go back until the baby’s here.”
    “Oh,” I said. “Can I color it?”
    “Okay,” she said.
    I got the markers and I made a ladybug on her belly button.
PLAN
    “What are you doing in the Dean Machine?” Colby is wearing his swimsuit again.
    “I’m sitting in it.”
    Norma is still standing there and Colby is climbing onto the boat. “Move over,” he says.
    I move to the passenger seat.
    “You can only come on here if I say.”
    “Okay.”
    Norma still stands and Colby doesn’t even look at her or say anything to her. Then he says, “Where’d you get those pads?”
    “The team.”
    “What team?”
    “The football team.”
    “What football team?”
    “The Florida Gators.”
    “That’s a real jersey from the Gators?”
    “Yeah. It’s my dad’s,” I say, and Colby bites his lip.
    “Oh,” he says.
    We keep sitting there and Norma keeps standing there until she finally turns around and goes back to her house.
    I want to say, “Bye Norma,” but I don’t.
    “She’s weird,” Colby says.
    “Yeah,” I say. “But I like her.”
    Then