The Tiger Rising

Chapter 21

By the time they started walking back to the Kentucky Star, it was dusk. Sistine was not crying, but she wasn’t talking, either, not even about letting the tiger go.

“I have to call my mother,” she said to him in a tired voice when they got to the motel.

“I’ll go with you,” said Rob.

She didn’t tell him not to, so he walked with her across the parking lot. They were almost to the laundry room when Willie May materialized out of the purple darkness. She was leaning up against her car, smoking a cigarette.

“Boo,” she said to Rob.

“Hey,” he told her back.

“Somebody following you,” she said, jerking her head at Sistine.

“This is Sistine,” Rob told her. And then he turned to Sistine and said, “This is Willie May, the one I was telling you about, the one who had the bird and let it go.”

“So what?” said Sistine.

“So nothing,” said Willie May. Her glasses winked in the light from the falling Kentucky Star. “So I had me a bird.”

“Why are you hanging around in the parking lot trying to scare people?” Sistine asked, her voice hard and mean.

“I ain’t trying to scare people,” said Willie May.

“Willie May works here,” said Rob.

“That’s right,” said Willie May. She reached into the front pocket of her dress and pulled out a package of Eight Ball gum. “You know what?” she said to Sistine. “I know you. You ain’t got to introduce yourself to me. You angry. You got all the anger in the world inside you. I know angry when I meet it. Been angry most of my life.”

“I’m not angry,” Sistine snapped.

“All right,” said Willie May. She opened the package of Eight Ball. “You an angry liar, then. Here you go.” She held out a stick of gum to Sistine.

Sistine stared for a long minute at Willie May, and Willie May stared back. The last light of dusk disappeared, and the darkness moved in. Rob held his breath. He wanted desperately for the two of them to like each other. When Sistine finally reached out and took the gum from Willie May, he let his breath go in a quiet whooosh.

Willie May nodded at Sistine, and then she extended the pack to Rob. He took a piece and put it in his pocket for later.

Willie May lit another cigarette and laughed. “Ain’t that just like God,” she said, “throwing the two of you together?” She shook her head. “This boy full of sorrow, keeping it down low in his legs. And you,” — she pointed her cigarette at Sistine — “you all full of anger, got it snapping out of you like lightning. You some pair, that’s the truth.” She put her arms over her head and stretched and then straightened up and stepped away from the car.

Sistine stared at Willie May, with her mouth open. “How tall are you?” she asked.

“Six feet two,” said Willie May. “And I got to get on home. But first, I got some advice for you. I already gave this boy some advice. You ready for yours?”

Sistine nodded, her mouth still open.

“This is it: Ain’t nobody going to come and rescue you,” said Willie May. She opened the car door and sat down behind the wheel. “You got to rescue yourself. You understand what I mean?”

Sistine stared at Willie May. She said nothing.

Willie May cranked the engine. Rob and Sistine watched her drive away.

“I think she’s a prophetess,” said Sistine.

“A what?” Rob said.

“A prophetess,” said Sistine. “They’re painted all over the Sistine ceiling. They’re women who God speaks through.”

“Oh,” said Rob, “a prophetess.” He turned the word over in his mouth. “Prophetess,” he said again. He nodded. That sounded right. If God was going to talk through somebody, it made sense to Rob that he would pick Willie May.