the towel letting the

raindrops beat on my skin

and I looked for the snakes.

At last I saw them,

swimming toward shore,

three of them.

Three like us, Momma,

I said.

Yes, three like us,

Momma said.

A momma with her two babies.

And they’re coming this way.

Momma was quiet a moment,

then she said,

Moccasins.

My God, they’re moccasins.

Run, Hope.

Run, Liz.

The snakes must have

seen us by then. They

turned in our direction.

Momma didn’t pick a thing up.

Not the umbrella,

not the towel she sat on.

Not even that sweet smelling

olive oil.

She just ran,

leaving me and Liz behind.

Wait,

Liz hollered after her.

Wait for us.

Liz grabbed

me by the hand

but all the sudden

I couldn’t even move.

Baby,

Lizzie said.

Come on.

She tried to pick me up,

but that bubble

made it hard.

Now the snakes were

on land and coming fast,

so fast,

and I couldn’t move.

Come on, Liz, Hope,

Momma called.

She was a good ways away.

The rain kept coming down

all silver looking.

It ran in my eyes.

Liz!

Just leave Hope there,

Momma called.

Her voice was scared.

Leave her and run to me.

Liz grabbed the belt

of the bubble and

pulled me along,

like you might a pup

that didn’t want to follow.

Liz screamed,

Hope.

Now the snakes were so close

I could see their eyes.

One opened its mouth

and I saw the white cotton.

Run,

Liz screamed at me.

And somehow

I could move.

We ran

together.

86.

Damn it!

Momma says when

we are almost home

from our joint

visit to Dr. Marino.

She pulls the car over.

The rain has blinded us.

The windshield wipers do nothing.

Steam fills up the car.

I write Liz

on my window,

then open it

a crack to let

cigarette smoke

out of the car

and a bit of rain

and air in.

I don’t get it,

Momma says.

I glance at her.

Ooh,

she is mad.

Madder than a hornet.

More visits?

Why you?

I shrug.

Not sure,

I say.

I stare out the car window

and touch my pocket

where the number is.

You thinking

of killing yourself too?

Have you told him that?

Momma squeezes the

steering wheel,

smashes out a half-smoked

cigarette,

lights another,

blows smoke

in my direction.

No!

I say.

We wait in silence

till the rain calms

then

Momma drives home fast,

her teeth clenching away

at nothing but air.

87.

If you think of anything that’s,

you know, unusual . . .

Where is that diary?

Run!

I close my eyes to these thoughts.

Something good.

Think anything good.

Something

must have changed

in Elizabeth’s life,

for her to try and

kill herself.

Three times?

Three times?

Three times?

Oh dear.

Oh no.

I know this.

I know this.

Crying in my head.

Crying in my head.

No!

Think of something else.

Hope!

Why my name?

Why is she calling me?