Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela by Felicia Watson Page A

I‘m back.‖
    As soon as he saw the table set now for four rather than two and his
    mom stirring the pan that had been placed back on a burner, Nick knew
    Agnes was in the middle of one of her ―episodes.‖ He advanced into
    the room, asking, ―Didn‘t you eat?‖
    She turned her frowning face on him, answering, ―No! I‘ve been
    waiting and waiting. Where were you? Hetty and Frank are late, and
    I‘m worried sick.‖
    Oh no. Not this again. Through gritted teeth, Nick admonished,
    ―Mom, Aunt Hetty is dead. You know that; she died six years ago. And
    Uncle Frank is in Freeport living with Marcy.‖
    Slowly taking the pan off the heat, Agnes wiped her hands on the
    ancient apron she‘d donned. After a second of visible concentration,
    she replied, ―Hetty died?‖ Tears sprang up as she rambled on. ―Yes…
    Hetty died. You‘re right. She did, didn‘t she?‖ She wandered over to
    the table, rubbing shaking hands together as she asked, ―So… they
    aren‘t coming to get me?‖
    ―No, you‘re staying here.‖
    Agnes plopped down into one of the kitchen chairs, wailing,
    ―What am I gonna do? Where will I live?‖
    Nick sat down across from her, feeling his patience worn thinner
    than his mom‘s apron, and repeated, ―I told you, you live here .‖
    ―But, Nick, I can‘t live with you forever.‖
    ―Of course you can. It‘s what I owe—it‘s where you belong.‖
    Suddenly Agnes‘s tone turned almost instructive—one she‘d used
    when teaching him the alphabet twenty-eight years earlier. ―What about
    when you get married? Believe me, son, your wife ain‘t gonna want her
    mother-in-law in the same house with her.‖

    Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela
    41

    Okay, that’s a new one. Nick was slowly shaking his head,
    bemusement having submerged exasperation when he remembered
    what Adam had said. Maybe this is my chance. Maybe it could be a
    good thing to her. Figuring he had nothing to lose, Nick sat back and
    calmly announced, ―I‘m not going to get married. Ever.‖ He could see
    his mom was about to protest, so he hurriedly added, ―Because I‘m…
    I‘m gay.‖
    Immediately and sternly, Agnes snapped, ―No, you‘re not. What a
    thing to say! Why would you say a nasty thing like that?‖
    ―Because it‘s true.‖
    ―No, it‘s not. You‘re sayin‘ that to get back at me, aren‘t you?
    You‘re mad ‘cause I left you.‖ Indignation melted into sorrow as she
    tearfully assured him, ―I was gonna go back for you, Nick. I was.
    Please don‘t be mad at me and say somethin‘ so awful.‖
    Nice try, Zales. Well, at least it brought her back to one you
    know. Nick nimbly jumped to his feet and embraced his distraught
    mother from behind. ―Mom, you didn‘t leave me. You never left me,
    okay? I‘m not mad and… and I‘m sorry I said that. Just forget it, all
    right?‖ He patted her arm, saying, ―Let me wash up real quick, then we
    can eat.‖ Forcing cheer into his voice that he couldn‘t feel in his heart,
    he said, ―We‘ll see if my ham barbeque is better‘an yours.‖
    Nick ran up to the bathroom, feeling his warm, loose muscles
    tensing with stress he had just tried to sweat out. He peeled off his
    damp shorts and T-shirt, puzzling yet again about this obsessive notion
    his mom had that she had ―left him.‖ He always figured that there was a
    part of her that recognized her dementia as a form of abandonment. But
    why couldn‘t he convince her that it wasn‘t her fault? Was it because
    she couldn‘t face blaming his dad… or him?

    BY MONDAY morning Nick had put his mom‘s troubles out of his
    head so he could better deal with the problems of his clients. Nine
    thirty a.m. found him in the center‘s small library, trying to wrap up a
    tutorial on Money Management so he could grab a cup of coffee and a
    doughnut before his counseling session with Norah at ten. Five minutes
    42
    Felicia Watson

    later, coffee in hand and pastry in mouth, Nick headed