“Young Eli has been spending time with me since he was just a little boy,” Mrs. Nelson explained. With her short white hair done up curly and her round rosy cheeks, Mrs. Nelson reminded me of one of the characters in the fairytales Mama used to read me. I never imagined the people in books could be real, but here was Mrs. Nelson, smiling and completely real.
“Mrs. Nelson has the best jellybeans,” Eli added.
I nodded, even though I had no idea what jellybeans were. To be honest, I was still a little shaken from before. Mrs. Nelson turned out to be sweet, sweeter than any adult I’d ever known, but I still felt like an interloper in her house. She’d only been joking when she’d yelled at me and Eli in her yard, but my heart was racing. I couldn’t help but think any minute now I was going to get a switch to my behind.
“Would you like some jellybeans, dear?” Mrs. Nelson smiled at me; come to think of it, she hadn’t stopped smiling since we’d come inside. I didn’t know how to answer her question. I didn’t know what jellybeans were, but they sounded strange. The entire place was strange.
Eli answered for me. “We both would, Mrs. Nelson.”
“Where is Mr. Nelson?” I asked Eli as Mrs. Nelson left the room, presumably to go get jellybeans. It was just Eli and me alone in her living room.
“He died a couple years ago.”
“She lives alone?” I asked, shock lacing my voice like lightning in a storm.
He eyed me curiously at the tone in my voice, but shrugged. “Yep.” Touching a bobble on the wall, he continued. “She has enough money, I think.”
I turned away from Eli, still stunned by the knowledge that Mrs. Nelson was living alone. Daddy had always told me that women couldn’t live alone, that they needed a man. Mrs. Nelson was living alone and doing quite fine, it appeared. Everything about her home proclaimed “content.”
Her house was different than mine. Mine was filled with dark wooden furniture and the shades were almost always drawn so that sunlight didn’t streak in. Daddy said it was so the sun didn’t stain the furniture. Mrs. Nelson’s house, on the other hand, was bright and sunny and covered with stuffed animals.
I’d only had one stuffed animal growing up, which Daddy had eventually thrown away when I was bad. She had stuffed animals all over the place. They covered her piano, her chairs, and were even on the floor. I was so intrigued by them that I didn’t notice a key, distinguishing feature in one stuffed animal: it was alive.
“Oh!” I fell back, startled as a dog jumped out from among the animals.
“I see you’ve met Charlie,” Mrs. Nelson said, walking back into the room.
Charlie padded up to me, tongue out, and placed his head on my lap. I place my hand gingerly on his head, unsure of what to do. The only dogs I knew were the hellhounds Daddy talked about. Those were rabid beasts. Charlie licked my hand, very unbeastlike.
Mrs. Nelson handed us a bag of brightly colored beans before saying, “He’s gentler than a lamb.” I took the bag and nodded at her, still uncertain of the furry head in my lap.
“So, darling,” Mrs. Nelson said, turning to me. “I thought I knew all the children on this block.”
Still watching Charlie, I replied, “I live down the street. The house on the corner.”
The old lady nodded sagely. “You’re the Walls’ daughter then.”
I nodded, watching as Charlie lifted his head, tongue out.
“Do you attend school with Eli?”
“No,” Eli answered before I could. “She was just outside on the street.”
I swallowed, feeling that I was going to give away some secret that even I didn’t know. “I… My parents homeschool me.”
“And you’re happy?” Mrs. Nelson asked, her eyes getting small beneath the lids.
I couldn’t look away from Charlie. His tongue was long and pink and his eyes switched from mine to the bag and back to mine. Mrs. Nelson had asked me a question, and Daddy had always taught me that when an adult asked a question, you had to respond.
I didn’t know the answer, though. No one had ever asked me that question before.
“He wants your jellybeans,” Eli interrupted.
“Can he have them?” I asked, still not sure what jellybeans were or what normal, not-raised-in-hell dogs ate. The dogs I knew were raised on the flesh of sinners. This dog, Charlie, looked so kind and sweet. He could have all my jellybeans.
“Oh bless you child, no, Charlie can’t have the jellybeans.”
Sometime later we left. I never did answer Mrs. Nelson’s question. As Eli and I walked along the sidewalk, I still contemplated what Mrs. Nelson had asked. Am I happy?