Getting Near to Baby by Audrey Couloumbis

talking about this and that, “that Little Sister doesn’t talk?”
    â€œI’m not real sure,” I said, never taking my eyes off the lights of the nine little houses across the street.
    â€œHave you ever thought about it?”
    â€œSome,” I said.
    Aunt Patty sat quiet for a piece, like she might have received an answer that needed some deliberation. Then she said, “Well, why do you think?”
    â€œAunt Patty, I don’t know.”
    â€œI’ve never seen a child do that business with the fingers before,” she said in a worried way.
    â€œShe was counting, that’s all,” I said. “Little Sister was counting things to keep herself occupied.” I didn’t feel like saying more. I had been thinking about how much Aunt Patty did not want people to know that little Sister would not speak. It made me feel tired to think about it, real tired.
    â€œI have never seen the like,” Aunt Patty said. “I wonder if we shouldn’t try to snap her out of it.”
    Mom and I had tried plenty of times, but no matter how much Little Sister might be distracted, she never forgot not to speak. I shrugged.
    â€œHave you tried anything?” Aunt Patty asked me.
    â€œWe’ve talked to her. She doesn’t answer.”
    â€œWell, everybody talks to her. We ought to be able to come up with something better than that.”
    â€œLike what?” I said.
    â€œLike things,” Aunt Patty said. “To make her mad, I guess.”
    I turned to look at Aunt Patty.
    â€œLike pinching her,” Aunt Patty said, “or like holding her upside down by the ankles—”
    â€œAunt Patty!”
    â€œWell, you know, till she says something.”
    â€œLike what?” I said, louder than I meant to.
    â€œWell, like, ‘I give up,’ ” Aunt Patty said in a voice suddenly gone high-pitched. “Something like that.”
    I looked at Aunt Patty like I was the principal of her whole life and she would have to stay after school forever if she tried such a thing.
    â€œIt was an idea,” she said finally.
    â€œIt was a terrible idea,” I said. “I don’t think you’re Mom’s sister at all. I think you’re Miss Pettibone’s sister.”
    â€œWilla Jo,” Aunt Patty said to shush me. But I wouldn’t be shushed.
    â€œIt is just so like you to think you are the only one to wonder. Don’t you think Mom tried to get Little Sister to talk? Don’t you think I did?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Aunt Patty said. “Your momma and I didn’t get around to talking much about that.”
    â€œNo, you were too busy making her cry.”
    â€œI never did.” She looked hurt, but it was too late to pull back now.
    â€œYou said all the wrong things,” I told her. “You said every wrong thing. Why couldn’t you do like Milly?”
    â€œI don’t know what Milly said, Willa Jo.”
    â€œShe never said anything to make Mom cry.” I was nearly as angry with Aunt Patty as I had been with Miss Pettibone. But it was a confused kind of anger, mixed up with all kinds of other feelings that made my heart ache.
    â€œI never meant to hurt your momma,” Aunt Patty said. “I love her. She is my own sister, like Little Sister is yours.”
    Two fat tears ran down Aunt Patty’s cheeks. It’s just terrible to see people cry. Worse when it is my fault. It wasn’t like she would really have held Little Sister up by her ankles. At least, I don’t think she would.
    â€œI didn’t say the right things, though,” Aunt Patty said as if the words hurt her throat. “You’re right about that. I don’t know the right things to say to someone who is in such pain, even if she is my sister.”
    â€œNo matter what she’d done, you have to say...” My own words choked me. “You have to say, ‘It wouldn’t have made a