Wish by Barbara O'Connor Page B

Scrappy in jail and he got a tattoo.
    â€œDon’t you even want to know what it is ?” she asked when I didn’t say anything.
    â€œUm, sure.”
    â€œA bird,” she said. “A blackbird in a cage. Right on the back of his hand. Can you believe that?”
    â€œI guess.”
    Then she rambled on about how graduating from high school wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be and how much she hated her job at the Waffle House.
    â€œPeople leave the tables all nasty with syrup,” she said. “And they plop their crying babies in a highchair and expect me to bring them their blueberry waffles in, like, a minute.”
    She told me that her boyfriend, Arlo, wrecked his car and turned out to be a loser.
    â€œAnd Carol Lee saw him at the mall with Darla Jacobs,” she said, “so I told him adios, sucker, and then—”
    â€œAren’t you gonna ask me about Wishbone?” I said.
    â€œWhat?”
    I’d been telling her all about Wishbone when she called. How smart he is and how he learned to sit and stay and how he slept beside my bed.
    â€œWishbone,” I said. “My dog. Aren’t you even gonna ask me about him?”
    â€œOh, um, sure,” she said. “How is Wishbone?”
    â€œGone!” I hollered. “He’s gone.” And then I spewed out the whole sorry story about how he’d run off and how I’d looked everywhere but I figured he’d rather be a stray than live with me. I tried to stop but I couldn’t. I moved on to how he didn’t want me the same as nobody else wanted me and how I hoped she was enjoying her perfect life while I was stuck here in Colby with a bunch of squirrel-eating hillbillies. And then I hung up and sat on the floor with my back against the wall. I could see Bertha in the kitchen stirring something on the stove and pretending like she hadn’t heard me.
    When the phone rang again, I just looked at it there in my hand.
    Bertha stopped stirring.
    Ring.
    Ring.
    Ring.
    â€œHello?” I said in a trembly voice.
    â€œCharlie…” Jackie’s voice floated through the telephone line, soft and sure. From Raleigh to Colby. I pictured that voice traveling from Carol Lee’s fancy brick house, along highways and over treetops, and then up the winding roads and down the gravel driveway into this little house perched on the side of the mountain and finally getting to me, sitting on the floor and needing to hear it.
    â€œI’m sorry about Wishbone,” Jackie said. “I really am. I hope he comes back.”
    I watched a fly dart from the window screen to the lamp to the ceiling.
    â€œCharlie?” Jackie said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI know this whole situation has been hard on you.”
    Situation?
    Is that what this was? A situation?
    â€œI think Mama’s getting better,” Jackie said. “I talked to her yesterday and she sounded better.”
    What did that mean? That she got out of bed? That she got her feet on the ground? That she cared one little bit about me? That I’d go back to Raleigh and our broken family would suddenly disappear and in its place would be a real family, holding hands and saying the blessing?
    â€œMaybe I can come visit you soon,” Jackie went on. “I’m gonna get my driver’s license in a couple of weeks. Did I tell you that? And Carol Lee got a car for graduation. Can you believe that? If I get some time off from my godforsaken job I could come to Colby. We could go to Asheville and hang out. They have vegan restaurants there. Did you know that? I’m thinking about becoming vegan and I bet if I…”
    She jabbered on about all the things we could do, but she left out the part about how she would go back to her perfect life and I would still be here without my dog and wishing I hadn’t been mean to Howard.
    That night when Gus got home, the three of us drove around looking for Wishbone. We went down