Read Eating Heaven for Free Online

underside of the box spring. “She’s the one who’s bad, you know, cheating with Benny.”
    I didn’t know what she meant. To me, cheating had more to do with board games and tests at school. I didn’t think Mom was doing anything wrong by being friends with Benny, even though he was a man and it was a bit odd, but I liked the whole arrangement. I told Mom so on the car ride home, adding, “It’s not really cheating if you’re not breaking any rules, is it?”
    Her face in the rearview told me I’d said the wrong thing when all I’d been trying to do was get on her good side. “Who told you we’re cheating?” she asked. I shook my head, mumbled that I didn’t know, and felt Anne relax beside me.
    “You’re to go to your room when we get home, Eleanor,” Mom said. “You need to understand that it’s malicious to spread lies and rumors,and I don’t want you ever repeating that one, do you hear me? Not to anyone. It’s shameful to talk like that.”
    I nodded, felt the tears threaten again, and clenched my teeth to keep from making any sound. For a moment I thought Anne might confess, but silence filled the car for the rest of the ride home.
     
    I turn in to Benny’s neighborhood and slide sideways in the untracked snow. “Come on,” I coax the car, downshifting into second, and fishtail the last two blocks to Benny’s house. The huge firs and hemlocks that line the street are laden with snow, and the magnolia limbs are bent, the buds destroyed. The small frame ranches look shuttered against the storm; there’s no sign of human life in sight. I pull up in front of Benny’s house, not daring to turn into his driveway, and leave my hazard lights blinking.
    The door’s locked, so I ring the bell. After shivering there for a minute, I knock once, then twice. Something’s not right. Finally, Benny cracks the door an inch and peers out, looking bewildered and older, somehow, than he did just three days ago. He’s wearing his tattered bathrobe again, and I wonder if he’s gotten dressed at all this week.
    “Are you okay?” I ask, stepping inside and stamping my boots in the entryway. “You remembered I was coming over, right?”
    He nods and clutches his robe in front of his gut. A game-show host blathers from the TV in the living room. Benny’s blanket lies rumpled on the couch.
    “Go back and lie down, Ben. I’ll put this stuff away and bring you some supper, okay?”
    He follows me into the kitchen instead. “Supper,” he says.
    “Patience, patience,” I say, settling the dish on the counter and opening the fridge door. “What, are you starving to death? You should have plenty to snack on in here.” The leftovers from Monday are untouched, and the casserole from the previous week has grown moldy.
    “Ben?” I turn to look at him. “What exactly have you been eating?”
    He looks like hell, now that I can see him in the light. The skin around his eyes looks tender and dark, and the fake tan I accused him of is now the yellow of mustard. My heart starts to beat rapidly in my chest.
    “Uncle Benny?”
    His eyes look confused. “Sup, sup, sup,” he says, brow furrowing.
    “Oh, Jesus, Benny. Oh, God.” A surge of something—panic, fear—is pushing into my throat. I swallow hard against it and say, “Okay. First thing we’re going to do is get you back on the couch, okay, Uncle Benny?” I take his arm, walk him slowly back into the living room. Like a docile child, he settles back into his spot, and I pull the blanket over him. “Okay, I’ll be right back,” I say, but he doesn’t respond.
    I race back to the phone in the kitchen, dial 911.
    A young female voice asks, “Is this an emergency?”
    “I-I think so. My uncle has been really sick and he looks jaundiced. And, God, he’s kind of, I don’t know. Babbling.” I try to talk quietly so he won’t hear me.
    “You’ll have to speak up. I can barely hear you. Is he there with you now?”
    “Yes,” I say loudly.
    “The