full of tears. “Who is this Raoul?”
“He is a flamenco dancer. He taught her to samba,” said Barbara. “He took her to a casino where she won fifty-thousand dollars at blackjack and offered to buy him a drink and they wound up flying to Missouri. Mother had a whole secret life and I’ll show you her confession if you like. She was an atheist and a Democrat and she thought you were a stuffed shirt with a cob up your butt. Those were her exact words, that you had a cob up your butt.”
She wasn’t sure why she said these terrible lies, but she found it satisfying. Flo shuddered as if stabbed with a fork. “That can’t be true,” she whispered. All the starch was out of her now. Serves you right , thought Barbara.
“Drive me home, please,” said Aunt Flo. Her voice was faint. She held up her car keys. “I’m in no shape to drive.”
Barbara drove Aunt Flo home—slowly, focusing on the street,making sure not to drive across a lawn and into a flower bed—and led her inside and helped her into bed. She seemed very old and frail, not the mover and shaker of yore. “This would have killed my mother,” she said faintly. “This would have done her in. I do believe that we are in the Last Days and that the world is coming to an end. I never thought so before but I do now. My own little sister—I tell you, Satan is at work among us. Pray for me.” And then she grabbed Barbara by the arms, hard, and pulled her down close. “Quit your boozing,” she said. “Stop it now. Shape up. For your mother’s sake. For Kyle.”
“Mother was never judgmental about other people having a good time,” Barbara said, all cool and collected. “Mother liked to imbibe now and then herself. And she went dancing. With Raoul. Mother adored him. He made her happy in her last years. She found a happiness that you and all the people like you will never know. You spent your whole damn life bossing other people around and barging in and taking mixing bowls out of people’s hands. Mother found love. I’m proud of her. And I’m going to scatter her ashes exactly as she wished, and I don’t care if you come or not.”
She strode out of Aunt Flo’s bedroom and closed the door with a bang and was on her way to the front door and then stopped in the living room and felt bad for having said all of that. What a terrible thing to do. So she turned and marched back to the bedroom door and opened it. Flo was sobbing, her face in the pillow, her white hair a big tangle. “I’m sorry for saying what I said,” said Barbara, and closed the door. She was a bad person, very bad, but she had her reasons.
Out on the sidewalk three little girls were playing jump rope, two twirling and one in the middle jumping, and the two were chanting:
Little Joe ate some snow
He got a part in a movie show
Had a claw
On his paw
Ha ha ha he was Dracula .
Blood was dripping
Down his chin
How many crypts does he live in?
One, two, three, four, five …
And the jumper kept hopping as the two girls twirled faster and faster up to twenty-three and finally caught her. Oh the misery that we have brought them into , she thought. They will lose their mothers and then what will become of them, poor lambies? And she thought of poor Muffy and that old sadness came over her and she was momentarily drenched in thirty-one-year-old grief. Oh dear God, I have got to join a group or something . They had groups for everything now. Stress Management and Men Coming To Terms With Their Bodies and AA and a new group she’d read about that helps you deal with your issues with people who happen to be dead now. Mediums of Mercy. And another, MOCK, Mothers of Challenged Kids. It meets, as they all do, on a Tuesday night in a church basement—not in Lake Wobegon, God knows, but somewhere, Minneapolis, you could sit in a circle with other moms and cry for your lambie, your babykins, your pookster, your Little Miss Muffin.
6. THE SARAH PROBLEM
W hen Kyle hung up the phone,
“He is a flamenco dancer. He taught her to samba,” said Barbara. “He took her to a casino where she won fifty-thousand dollars at blackjack and offered to buy him a drink and they wound up flying to Missouri. Mother had a whole secret life and I’ll show you her confession if you like. She was an atheist and a Democrat and she thought you were a stuffed shirt with a cob up your butt. Those were her exact words, that you had a cob up your butt.”
She wasn’t sure why she said these terrible lies, but she found it satisfying. Flo shuddered as if stabbed with a fork. “That can’t be true,” she whispered. All the starch was out of her now. Serves you right , thought Barbara.
“Drive me home, please,” said Aunt Flo. Her voice was faint. She held up her car keys. “I’m in no shape to drive.”
Barbara drove Aunt Flo home—slowly, focusing on the street,making sure not to drive across a lawn and into a flower bed—and led her inside and helped her into bed. She seemed very old and frail, not the mover and shaker of yore. “This would have killed my mother,” she said faintly. “This would have done her in. I do believe that we are in the Last Days and that the world is coming to an end. I never thought so before but I do now. My own little sister—I tell you, Satan is at work among us. Pray for me.” And then she grabbed Barbara by the arms, hard, and pulled her down close. “Quit your boozing,” she said. “Stop it now. Shape up. For your mother’s sake. For Kyle.”
“Mother was never judgmental about other people having a good time,” Barbara said, all cool and collected. “Mother liked to imbibe now and then herself. And she went dancing. With Raoul. Mother adored him. He made her happy in her last years. She found a happiness that you and all the people like you will never know. You spent your whole damn life bossing other people around and barging in and taking mixing bowls out of people’s hands. Mother found love. I’m proud of her. And I’m going to scatter her ashes exactly as she wished, and I don’t care if you come or not.”
She strode out of Aunt Flo’s bedroom and closed the door with a bang and was on her way to the front door and then stopped in the living room and felt bad for having said all of that. What a terrible thing to do. So she turned and marched back to the bedroom door and opened it. Flo was sobbing, her face in the pillow, her white hair a big tangle. “I’m sorry for saying what I said,” said Barbara, and closed the door. She was a bad person, very bad, but she had her reasons.
Out on the sidewalk three little girls were playing jump rope, two twirling and one in the middle jumping, and the two were chanting:
Little Joe ate some snow
He got a part in a movie show
Had a claw
On his paw
Ha ha ha he was Dracula .
Blood was dripping
Down his chin
How many crypts does he live in?
One, two, three, four, five …
And the jumper kept hopping as the two girls twirled faster and faster up to twenty-three and finally caught her. Oh the misery that we have brought them into , she thought. They will lose their mothers and then what will become of them, poor lambies? And she thought of poor Muffy and that old sadness came over her and she was momentarily drenched in thirty-one-year-old grief. Oh dear God, I have got to join a group or something . They had groups for everything now. Stress Management and Men Coming To Terms With Their Bodies and AA and a new group she’d read about that helps you deal with your issues with people who happen to be dead now. Mediums of Mercy. And another, MOCK, Mothers of Challenged Kids. It meets, as they all do, on a Tuesday night in a church basement—not in Lake Wobegon, God knows, but somewhere, Minneapolis, you could sit in a circle with other moms and cry for your lambie, your babykins, your pookster, your Little Miss Muffin.
6. THE SARAH PROBLEM
W hen Kyle hung up the phone,
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