A different, darker Mary returned home to Miz Gryder's place.
“What's wrong, child?” Miz Gryder called from the kitchen. She didn't even need to turn around; it was that obvious.
“Nothing, ma'am. I just don't feel good.” Mary went straight to her room and lay down. Miz Gryder followed her, but she stopped at the door when she heard the girl's soft, deep breathing. Mary had dropped into bed and instantly fallen asleep. Miz Gryder frowned, turned and walked slowly back down the hall. She was halfway down the hall when a wave struck and rolled over her, knotting her stomach and frizzing her hair. Her heart was pounding in her chest before the realization came: a single, razor-sharp shriek of anguish had sliced through her heart.
Panicked, she raced back down the hall. Mary's door was locked. She pounded on the heavy wood, scraping the skin off her knuckles.
“Mary!...Mary!...Open up!”
Miz Gryder was growing desperate. “Mary!...Mary! I'm here, child, I'm here.”
Suddenly, Mary was there in the doorway, rubbing her eyes.
“W-what's the matter?”
“What's the matter? Why don't you tell me? You screamed. I thought you was in pain.”
“I-I'm sorry, Miz Gryder,” Mary mumbled, sleep slurring her tongue. I must've been dreaming again.”
“Tell me about it, hon.'“
“It...it was a just a dream; nothing to tell.”
“You'll tell me when you're ready, I reckon.”
Mary slipped back into unconsciousness; into a dreamless void. A jangling noise, followed by Miz Gryder's steps creaking on the hardwood floor brought her back to the land of the living. She heard Miz Gryder's voice muffled through the door, distance and the faint roaring of sleep still in her ears.
Mary struggled to her feet and made her way out into the hall, then down the hall to the living room, past the small table where the black telephone rested on a white starched doily. Miz Gryder wasn't there. Mary found her in the kitchen, eating a late snack.
“Was that the phone just now?” she asked her landlady.
“It was the Langston boy,” Miz Gryder said. “He was calling for you. I told him you was sleeping; he don't have no business callin' this time of night, anyway.”
It was after 10 p.m. Decent folk didn't call after 9 p.m. Miz Gryder finished her cornbread and buttermilk and announced, “Now back to bed! You need a good night's sleep.”
And Mary dreamed...She sat playing beside a small pond, her legs dangled lazily from a log into the water. The water began to glow until the surface was brilliant and sparkling. The light coalesced into a sphere and floated up, detaching itself from the surface of the pond. Suddenly the sky clouded over, dimming the brilliance of the glowing ball. The tops of the trees around the pond began to shake their arms and quiver, and a blast of wind scurried across the pond, darkening the surface with tiny, rapid ripples. Her glowing globe hovered and shook, twisted and careened dangerously. Mary called out...
Mary stayed home the next few days. She said she was sick, and Jim didn't make a stink about her not showing up for work. Miz Gryder thought that was odd, because Jim was not normally one to be considerate of his employees.
“What's the matter, Mary?” It was Joe. “I've been trying to call you for days. Why don't you ever answer?”
Mary didn't want to lie. She couldn't tell the truth. “Joe...I'm not feeling well. Maybe some other time.”
“You're not feeling well? What's wrong? Have you been to see a doctor?”
“It's not like that. Please...try to understand...”
“But I don't understand. You don't feel good, but you won't see a doctor.”
Joe suddenly felt like an alien from another planet. He didn't belong. He didn't understand. It was a female thing.
“How about next week?” He felt like a jerk. An idiot.
“I don't know. Maybe. Goodbye, Joe.”
“Goodbye.”
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