up and see how I was doing?”
She pulled a lipstick out of her purse. “My life was such a mess at the time. I wouldn’t have been any help to you. I had my hands full just taking care of myself.”
“Taking care of yourself? I was seventeen—and you were taking care of yourself?”
“I was going through a divorce, and everything was falling apart.” I watched her closely, unable to believe that she would actually apply lipstick while we were talking about this. She lifted the lipstick, but when our eyes met, her hand stopped halfway to her mouth. She lowered it again and dropped the lipstick back into her purse.
“How did you marry someone else when you were still married to Dad? He never told me you two had divorced.”
“Let’s not dwell on that. It’s water under the bridge.” She dug in her purse again and pulled out a pack of Salems.
“You can’t smoke in here.”
“Oh, you’re part of that crowd.”
My hands clenched again. “I’m not part of any crowd. This is not my house, and I don’t think you should smoke in it.”
She nodded toward the hallway that led to the back of the house. “Have you got a back porch? How about we go sit outside for a bit?”
“It’s forty-five degrees outside.”
“Gracious, are you that thin-blooded? Why, up north they would consider this a balmy day.”
“How do you know what they would think up north?”
“I lived in Chicago for three years with my second husband.”
“What number are you on now?”
“Stanley is number three.”
I shook my head. “Let me get your coat.”
“I don’t need it. I’ve got this sweater. That should be fine.” She smoothed the front of her white turtleneck.
“Well, I’m wearing a coat.” I opened the closet and pulled out my ski jacket. Then I led her down the hallway, through the family room, and out the back door.
The Masons’ porch was Southern all the way: white wood floorboards, white rail, and white rocking chairs. We sat side by side in the rockers and looked out over the rectangular pool toward the stand of cedar elms by the back fence. She pulled a silver-plated lighter out of her purse and lit her cigarette. She threw her head back and inhaled. Then she puffed smoke out of her mouth in three short bursts. “Whew, I needed that. This is so stressful for me.”
I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees. “Did it occur to you that I’ve had some stress, too?”
“Why, of course you have, honey. Who hasn’t? But until you’ve had a marriage go south on you, you don’t know what stress is, believe me.” She stuck the cigarette back in her mouth.
The sky had turned gray since the morning, and the wind had picked up. It cut across the porch and from time to time gusted enough to puff my hair off the top of my shoulders and set it back down again. I pulled the collar of my coat tight. “Why did you come here?”
She flicked the ash off her cigarette. I watched it fall to the wood floor and wondered whether it would leave a burn mark.
“You were looking for me, remember?” She reached over and gave my arm a squeeze. “I’m glad you found me, though. Now we can get to know each other again.”
“So, is that it? You just walk through my door one day and it’s as if you never walked out on Dad and me? You think we can just pick up as if nothing happened?”
She flicked another ash. “Wait a minute. Don’t think I’m going to let you hold that against me. I was sick. At one point I was living in the streets in downtown Houston. I ate out of a few garbage cans, too.” She looked at me for an instant but turned away. “Does that make you proud of your mother?”
I leaned back in my rocker. “What happened?”
“Back then, even the street people said I was crazy; and, believe me, when that crowd’s calling you crazy, you’ve got a problem.” She laughed, but her eyes weren’t smiling. She studied the back of her hand. “The Lord took care of me, even when I was in hell. He
She pulled a lipstick out of her purse. “My life was such a mess at the time. I wouldn’t have been any help to you. I had my hands full just taking care of myself.”
“Taking care of yourself? I was seventeen—and you were taking care of yourself?”
“I was going through a divorce, and everything was falling apart.” I watched her closely, unable to believe that she would actually apply lipstick while we were talking about this. She lifted the lipstick, but when our eyes met, her hand stopped halfway to her mouth. She lowered it again and dropped the lipstick back into her purse.
“How did you marry someone else when you were still married to Dad? He never told me you two had divorced.”
“Let’s not dwell on that. It’s water under the bridge.” She dug in her purse again and pulled out a pack of Salems.
“You can’t smoke in here.”
“Oh, you’re part of that crowd.”
My hands clenched again. “I’m not part of any crowd. This is not my house, and I don’t think you should smoke in it.”
She nodded toward the hallway that led to the back of the house. “Have you got a back porch? How about we go sit outside for a bit?”
“It’s forty-five degrees outside.”
“Gracious, are you that thin-blooded? Why, up north they would consider this a balmy day.”
“How do you know what they would think up north?”
“I lived in Chicago for three years with my second husband.”
“What number are you on now?”
“Stanley is number three.”
I shook my head. “Let me get your coat.”
“I don’t need it. I’ve got this sweater. That should be fine.” She smoothed the front of her white turtleneck.
“Well, I’m wearing a coat.” I opened the closet and pulled out my ski jacket. Then I led her down the hallway, through the family room, and out the back door.
The Masons’ porch was Southern all the way: white wood floorboards, white rail, and white rocking chairs. We sat side by side in the rockers and looked out over the rectangular pool toward the stand of cedar elms by the back fence. She pulled a silver-plated lighter out of her purse and lit her cigarette. She threw her head back and inhaled. Then she puffed smoke out of her mouth in three short bursts. “Whew, I needed that. This is so stressful for me.”
I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees. “Did it occur to you that I’ve had some stress, too?”
“Why, of course you have, honey. Who hasn’t? But until you’ve had a marriage go south on you, you don’t know what stress is, believe me.” She stuck the cigarette back in her mouth.
The sky had turned gray since the morning, and the wind had picked up. It cut across the porch and from time to time gusted enough to puff my hair off the top of my shoulders and set it back down again. I pulled the collar of my coat tight. “Why did you come here?”
She flicked the ash off her cigarette. I watched it fall to the wood floor and wondered whether it would leave a burn mark.
“You were looking for me, remember?” She reached over and gave my arm a squeeze. “I’m glad you found me, though. Now we can get to know each other again.”
“So, is that it? You just walk through my door one day and it’s as if you never walked out on Dad and me? You think we can just pick up as if nothing happened?”
She flicked another ash. “Wait a minute. Don’t think I’m going to let you hold that against me. I was sick. At one point I was living in the streets in downtown Houston. I ate out of a few garbage cans, too.” She looked at me for an instant but turned away. “Does that make you proud of your mother?”
I leaned back in my rocker. “What happened?”
“Back then, even the street people said I was crazy; and, believe me, when that crowd’s calling you crazy, you’ve got a problem.” She laughed, but her eyes weren’t smiling. She studied the back of her hand. “The Lord took care of me, even when I was in hell. He
Similar Books
