describe him, then?”
“I apologize. More, please.”
“His hair is dark and thick and straight. He’s letting it grow. He wears glasses. I think they need to be tightened.”
“I remember the first time you saw him. The powwow.”
Cory nodded. “The dancing orange Zubaz. He’s built really solid, like Mike. You know how you always say Mike could get fat if he ever slowed down? I think Mac is like that. There’s potential for a gut.” She sipped and swallowed. “I don’t think he shaves.”
Her mother laughed. “Enough of the physical. Tell me about him .”
Cory cradled her mug. “I’ve told you what I know about his family.”
“About him.”
“He can be funny, especially when he and Tony get going on something. They’ve gotten to be good friends.”
“That’s interesting. Jack Merrill is pretty proud about how much he hates Indians. Oh, the things I have heard that man say!”
“Like what?”
“Nothing that I want to repeat. Most of the time Jack can be so charming—”
“Charming? Tony’s dad?”
“Very. And then an instant later he’ll say the vilest thing.” She sat erect, raised her arms, and cupped her hands in a circle. “I’ve just wanted to wring his neck at times.”
Cory put a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Settle down, Mom. Don’t get so upset—”
Margaret patted her daughter’s arm. “It’s okay, dear. The thought of Jack’s bigotry isn’t going to kill me.” She lay down. “I’ve often wondered where such feelings come from.”
“Your murderous ones?”
“No. The bigotry. Where does it come from? Is it possible people are born with hate?”
“Do you want another shoulder rub?”
“I want an answer. Where does hate come from?”
“You’re asking me?”
“I’m just asking. Anyone.”
Pain was evident on her face. Cory didn’t know if it came from the physical or the emotional anguish, from the uncertainty and discomfort of her health or from the perplexity posed by her world. Cory wished, a frequent wish, that she could wipe away all the trouble. Wished she could put her arms around her mother and fix it.
Margaret closed her eyes. “Hate must come from somewhere.”
Cory stroked a few strands of hair off her mother’s forehead. “School lunches.”
Margaret opened her eyes and pushed up on an elbow. “What?”
“School lunches breed hate. What else could it be? Bigotry is everywhere in this country, right? And what’s the common denominator? At one time or another everyone has eaten a school lunch. The big eaters are probably the big haters.”
“Those mashed potatoes.”
“The stuff they call meat.”
Her mother was smiling now, and Cory’s own heart lightened. For a moment, she’d fixed it.
“Jack Merrill must have always gone through the lunch line twice. Does Tony by any chance bring his own?”
Cory grinned. “He does.”
“I’m glad he’s different from his father.”
“He wasn’t always. He’s sort of changed. He had to if he wanted to date Sasha.”
“Good for her.” She rolled onto her side and pulled the bedcover to her chin. “One heart at a time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Would you tuck in the corner of the blanket? Mike calls it my theory of revolution.”
“I didn’t know you had one.”
“Change a heart, you change the world. But doing it one heart at a time is the best you can hope for. Did you tuck it in?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“I’m so cold. Could you get that striped blanket from the chair and spread it? Thanks. Much better. Mac is so polite to me and Mike. Is he nice to you?”
“Very nice. Not by holding doors, or doing that sort of thing. But he pays attention. I know he listens. Why are you laughing?”
“I’m not laughing at you, okay? I’m pleased. Any healthy relationship is just a balancing act, Cory. Makes sense to me that you’d be happy with a quiet guy. A good balance.”
“I didn’t say he was quiet. I said he listens.”
“My mistake. He strikes me
“I apologize. More, please.”
“His hair is dark and thick and straight. He’s letting it grow. He wears glasses. I think they need to be tightened.”
“I remember the first time you saw him. The powwow.”
Cory nodded. “The dancing orange Zubaz. He’s built really solid, like Mike. You know how you always say Mike could get fat if he ever slowed down? I think Mac is like that. There’s potential for a gut.” She sipped and swallowed. “I don’t think he shaves.”
Her mother laughed. “Enough of the physical. Tell me about him .”
Cory cradled her mug. “I’ve told you what I know about his family.”
“About him.”
“He can be funny, especially when he and Tony get going on something. They’ve gotten to be good friends.”
“That’s interesting. Jack Merrill is pretty proud about how much he hates Indians. Oh, the things I have heard that man say!”
“Like what?”
“Nothing that I want to repeat. Most of the time Jack can be so charming—”
“Charming? Tony’s dad?”
“Very. And then an instant later he’ll say the vilest thing.” She sat erect, raised her arms, and cupped her hands in a circle. “I’ve just wanted to wring his neck at times.”
Cory put a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Settle down, Mom. Don’t get so upset—”
Margaret patted her daughter’s arm. “It’s okay, dear. The thought of Jack’s bigotry isn’t going to kill me.” She lay down. “I’ve often wondered where such feelings come from.”
“Your murderous ones?”
“No. The bigotry. Where does it come from? Is it possible people are born with hate?”
“Do you want another shoulder rub?”
“I want an answer. Where does hate come from?”
“You’re asking me?”
“I’m just asking. Anyone.”
Pain was evident on her face. Cory didn’t know if it came from the physical or the emotional anguish, from the uncertainty and discomfort of her health or from the perplexity posed by her world. Cory wished, a frequent wish, that she could wipe away all the trouble. Wished she could put her arms around her mother and fix it.
Margaret closed her eyes. “Hate must come from somewhere.”
Cory stroked a few strands of hair off her mother’s forehead. “School lunches.”
Margaret opened her eyes and pushed up on an elbow. “What?”
“School lunches breed hate. What else could it be? Bigotry is everywhere in this country, right? And what’s the common denominator? At one time or another everyone has eaten a school lunch. The big eaters are probably the big haters.”
“Those mashed potatoes.”
“The stuff they call meat.”
Her mother was smiling now, and Cory’s own heart lightened. For a moment, she’d fixed it.
“Jack Merrill must have always gone through the lunch line twice. Does Tony by any chance bring his own?”
Cory grinned. “He does.”
“I’m glad he’s different from his father.”
“He wasn’t always. He’s sort of changed. He had to if he wanted to date Sasha.”
“Good for her.” She rolled onto her side and pulled the bedcover to her chin. “One heart at a time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Would you tuck in the corner of the blanket? Mike calls it my theory of revolution.”
“I didn’t know you had one.”
“Change a heart, you change the world. But doing it one heart at a time is the best you can hope for. Did you tuck it in?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“I’m so cold. Could you get that striped blanket from the chair and spread it? Thanks. Much better. Mac is so polite to me and Mike. Is he nice to you?”
“Very nice. Not by holding doors, or doing that sort of thing. But he pays attention. I know he listens. Why are you laughing?”
“I’m not laughing at you, okay? I’m pleased. Any healthy relationship is just a balancing act, Cory. Makes sense to me that you’d be happy with a quiet guy. A good balance.”
“I didn’t say he was quiet. I said he listens.”
“My mistake. He strikes me
Similar Books
