Mrs. Dupre was a friend of Mrs. Follis. We all went to Mrs. Dupre's house once to pick peaches, and then we had boxes and boxes of peaches to eat, all sweet and firm and juicy. There were still boxes of peaches left when the peaches were a little too sweet, a little mushy, and there were still peaches left when the peaches had brown spots you had to eat around, when eating even one left you feeling a little bit sick, but it was still better than oatmeal for breakfast.

Mostly Mrs. Dupre would come over to the Follises and she and Mrs. Follis would play cards.

Mrs. Follis set up a card table in the living room, on the fireplace end, just in front of the fireplace. It was a green plastic folding table, and Mrs. Follis put out two dark brown metal folding chairs on either side of it. Mrs. Dupre immediately sat down in one of the chairs. She lowered herself into it carefully, and she sighed as she sat down. "Oh, it's nice to get off my feet."

Mrs. Follis set up a card table in the living room, on the fireplace end, just in front of the fireplace. It was a green plastic folding table, and Mrs. Follis put out two dark brown metal folding chairs on either side of it. Right away Mrs. Dupre sat down in one of the chairs. She lowered herself into it real slow like she had to make sure she didn't hit too hard. She said, "Oh, it's nice to get off my feet."

Mrs. Follis moved the floor lamp closer to the card table. When she turned on the switch the table and the wood floor around it became a little brighter, not much because it wasn't really dark yet. Then Mrs. Follis went into her room for the deck of cards that she handed to Mrs. Dupre.

Mrs. Dupre’s fingers weren't like the rest of her. They were long and slender and they moved too fast for me to follow what they were doing from over on the other side of the living room near the door to the kitchen. Still, I didn't come closer.

From the other chair, Mrs. Follis, too, watched Mrs. Dupre's fingers, like she couldn't stop watching like I couldn't stop. She had her metal chair pulled away from the table and she leaned back so the skirt of her dress was spread over her knees and the hem of that skirt didn't move up or down on her leg at all while Mrs. Follis watched Mrs. Dupre's fingers.

But after the cards slapped together into their pile on the table the hem of Mrs. Follis's skirt jerked up and down on her leg. She reached across the table to pat her friends arm and when she got Mrs. Dupre's attention, Mrs. Follis said with her voice as jerky as her dress, "I think I've come up with something that will finally cure that child of wetting the bed."

"And what would that be?" asked Mrs. Dupre. Her smile back at Mrs. was soft and puffy like Mrs. Follis’s smile.

"I've decided to give him a special bath." Mrs. Follis raised her voice, maybe so Andy could hear, because Andy was playing with his toy cars and trucks on the floor near me. "Yes, a special green bath. It'll cure him right away of that bed wetting."

Andy looked up, looked over at Mrs. Follis, but, when she didn't say anything else, went back to playing with his cars.

Mrs. Follis went into the kitchen, bright from the overhead light. She lifted a roasting pan off a hook over the stove then went over to the right where I couldn't see her, but I heard the pan set in the sink, the faucet turned on, and water splashing into the pan. Then the pan heavy, scraping the sides of the sink, as Mrs. Follis lifted it, carried it over and set it on the counter next to the stove. She opened a little bottle and poured something from it into the pan, and I thought it was the same little bottle of green food coloring she had the other night. Mrs. Follis reached to the right and I heard the rattle of silverware in the drawer. She had a large metal spoon with holes in it in her hand then and she stirred the water in the pan with the spoon. Mrs. Follis placed the pan on the front of the stove, over two burners. She turned the flame of the gas burners all the way up.

When Mrs. Follis got back to the card table, Mrs. Dupre handed her the cards, and Mrs. Follis dealt, skimming the cards off the top, one for Mrs. Dupre, one for her, one for Mrs. Dupre, one for her. Both of them picked up their cards. Neither talked while they looked them over.

They talked while they played, but in whispers so I couldn't hear.

The green water heated on the stove.

Mrs. Follis and Mrs. Dupre picked up cards, laid down cards, looked at their cards, dealt new hands.

Andy, on the floor, punched on a pillow to make a mountain with hills and valleys for his toy cars. He knelt down next to the pillow mountain and skidded the yellow car down into a crevice. His other hand sped the tow truck over for the rescue, backing it to the edge to let down the hook. Andy's finger was the hook dragging the car back up onto the mountain road.

Mrs. Follis finished shuffling the deck and handed the cards to Mrs. Dupre. She pointed over to Andy so Mrs. Dupre looked over.

Mrs. Follis said, "Look how big he's getting."

Mrs. Dupre looked and nodded, then went back to dealing the cards.

Mrs. Follis said, "It's going to be kind of a tight fit to get him into that pan for his bath."

"Just as long as his bottom fits," Mrs. Dupre said.

Mrs. Follis laughed. She pressed her fist into her mouth to stop her laughing, looking over her fist at Mrs. Dupre, and both their bodies shook trying to hold their laughter in.

Mrs. Follis got up. "I'll just go check on it," she said.

At the stove, she lifted one end of the roasting pan. I heard water sizzle against the hot metal pan.

Mrs. Follis said, "It's almost ready now."

But the water was already too hot for a bath.

My foot was burned once in water that sizzled like that. Just before I jerked my foot out of the hot water I could see the little pieces of skin floating away from my foot, peeling away.

Mrs. Follis couldn't mean to put Andy in that pan.

But she went to Andy.

"Almost time for your bath." Mrs. Follis picked up the pillow and all of Andy's cars, then squatted beside him. Andy watched his cars but he didn't say anything. He let Mrs. Follis take off all of his clothes, lifted each foot when she told him to so she could pull off his shoes, then each pant leg, then his underpants.

"Are you ready to be cured of your bedwetting?" Mrs. Follis asked him. Andy nodded his head.

Mrs. Follis called over to Mrs. Dupre, "He says he's ready to be cured. Guess, he'll be cured all right."

"Guess he will," said Mrs. Dupre. "If anything will cure him that will." She began dealing the cards very slowly, one for Mrs. Follis, one for her.

"He looks a lot littler without his clothes, doesn't he?" Mrs. Follis said. "Guess he'll fit in the pan after all."

She pushed on the floor with her hands to raise herself up to her feet, took slow steps over to her chair, settled herself into it, arranged her dress, picked up her cards one at a time, moved her lips together, then apart.

Andy moved over closer to me, a couple of feet away and just stood there naked.

The bandages on my burnt foot had to be changed every day. The dead skin had to be cut off. When I wore shoes again, they were special canvas shoes to let my hurt foot breathe.

But Mrs. Follis wasn't going to put just Andy's foot in the water. She was going to put his whole body in. His whole body scalded with the skin peeling off. Did she mean to kill him? Could she really mean to put him in the scalding water?

Mrs. Follis laughed. "Yes, this ought to cure his bedwetting once and for all."

That water would scald my brother. It could kill him.

Mrs. Follis laughed. "Yes, this ought to cure his bedwetting once and for all."

Mrs. Dupre laughed too and it had to be a joke, both of them laughing and looking over at Andy, and Andy almost laughing too because they were, looked up at me to see if I knew what was so funny, pulled his eyebrows together puzzled when I didn't laugh.

It had to be a joke.

But what if it wasn't.

Between Mrs. Follis at the card table and where Andy stood was about ten steps for Mrs. Follis. Between me and Andy was two of my steps. Between Andy and the door from the dining room to the kitchen, maybe six steps, six of my steps, maybe more Andy steps. Between that door and the door to the outside there were twelve big squares of black and white, white then black, each square one Andy step.

If Mrs. Follis started to put Andy in the basin on the stove could I grab Andy and run?

Should I get him now while she was sitting down, ten steps away?

My body felt like it couldn't move, and I wanted to move so I would know if I could. But I didn't want to move because I didn't want to make them, Mrs. Follis or Mrs. Dupre, look at me and wonder what I was up to, not until I was ready and knew just what I was going to do.

What they were going to do.

Andy, because it was taking so long, stood on one leg and swung the other, waiting for Mrs. Follis to give him a bath, a regular bath.

But now they both concentrated hard on their cards, like they had forgotten all about the green water. Mrs. Follis didn't get up again for a long while.

Andy twirled around with his hands stretched out, getting himself dizzy. Mrs. Dupre tapped Mrs. Follis’s shoulder and pointed to Andy.

Mrs. Follis' chair scraped against the floor as she pushed herself away from the card table. I pictured myself grabbing Andy's hand, running out the door. But Mrs. Follis walked towards the kitchen, didn't move to where Andy twirled. Mrs. Follis rattled the pan on the stove, came back out, headed to the card table.

Andy stopped twirling, stumbled and started to fall next to me. I caught him to keep him from falling on the floor. He was heavy on me, but not too heavy. Right then I could pick him up and grab his hand and run, just keep running.

"Almost ready. Let's have another hand." The chair creaked as Mrs. Follis sat down.

Mrs. Dupre and Mrs. Follis didn't talk as much now. They picked up cards, laid them down.

Twenty-seven floor boards between Andy and the other door from the living room to the front porch.

Mrs. Follis was fat, probably couldn't run fast. We could reach the door to the outside before she could, but I'd have to turn the doorknob, get the heavy door open, unhook the high hook of the screen door, the one that was hard to get out of the hole. Mrs. Follis could reach us before I got both of them open.

If I went through the kitchen to the back door would Andy realize he had to come along and be fast?

If we got outside, I didn't know how many miles it was to the next farm. We'd never been there. Andy would be cold outside with no clothes on.

"Get up a minute," I said to Andy and lifted him off me.

My jean jacket hung on a hook by the outside door. Glad I could move, I pulled the jacket on, went back to my spot near Andy.

"You cold?" Mrs. Follis asked me.

I nodded, I didn't think I could talk.

"Andy might be cold too, but he'll warm up soon enough," Mrs. Follis said.

About ten minutes later she went back into the kitchen. I looked over to where Andy was. My legs felt all heavy again like they'd gone into the floor and I'd have to pull them out before I could move. Mrs. Follis took the basin off the stove, her hands covered with thick oven mitts.

The water sizzled.

Mrs. Follis took the basin somewhere out of my sight. There were sounds of pouring.

Three Mrs. Follis steps from Andy if I waited until she came out the kitchen door, if I waited to see what she did.

I got over right next to Andy.

Go now, start toward the other door now, slow, not obvious. Maybe eight Andy steps with me holding his hand. I imagined my legs moving, my hand reaching for him.

But my legs, my arms didn't move.

Mrs. Follis started back towards us, reached the kitchen door. If she comes his way, grab for Andy's hand, pull him around her, through the kitchen, out the door.

My hand was ready.

Mrs. Follis looked our way, looked past us, towards the card table. She walked over, sat down. When she sat down she let out a big breath of air, all the time she was easing herself down and the metal folding chair creaked with her weight, she let out the long breath.

Mrs. Dupre turned her head toward Mrs. Follis, kept looking up, then down again, arranging her cards in her hand, then back up at Mrs. Follis.

Mrs. Follis just shaking her head and not saying anything, and Mrs. Dupre waiting for her to say something.

"I just couldn't do it." Mrs. Follis picked up her cards from off the table, one at a time, arranging them in her hand. She looked at her cards, then up at Mrs. Dupre, at her cards again.

Her hand was all arranged and Mrs. Follis looked up at Mrs. Dupre and kept her eyes there. Her eyes bright and brown in the middle of her puffy white face.

Mrs. Follis said, "He looked so innocent standing there naked, I just couldn't do it."

"No," she said, her voice sounding disappointed in herself. "I poured that water down the sink."

She looked back down at her cards.

Mrs. Dupre started to say something, then she didn’t say it. Her big slow lips came apart then went back together again.

Mrs. Follis looked back up until she caught Mrs. Dupre’s eye and smiled at her then The two of them started to laugh, a long loud laugh, a big joke to them.

I went to the dresser on the other side of the card table, went around the card table but I didn’t look at Mrs. Follis, didn't look at Mrs. Dupre. I took out a pair of pajamas, the ones with the teddy bears. I walked back around the table and I didn’t look at the two women.

I took Andy’s hand.

"Time to get ready for bed," I said, and led him over to where his sleeping bag was rolled up next to the wall. I unrolled it and spread it out. I pulled his pajamas on him, sat him in my lap to pull the bottoms over his feet, stood him up to pull them up, pulled one arm of the pajama tops over his fingers, up his arm, put his other arm through the other pajama arm. Buttoned them up.

"What about my bath?" asked Andy.

"No bath tonight, I said.

I turned down the flap of his sleeping bag. Andy scooted down in it, nestled down and I zipped it up most of the way. I sat by him next to his sleeping bag, rested my arm on his shoulder. I wanted to hold him in my lap, cradle his head, watch his little hands and feet as he slept. He was mine to take care of but I couldn't take care of him, couldn't hold him.

I sat there with my arm on his shoulder until he fell asleep.