Weak in the legs, she got up and went into the bathroom. When she came out she pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. In the kitchen Penny was using a whisk to beat eggs in a bowl and Eva was making bacon.
"You shouldn't be up here disturbing Eva," Bobby told Pen, greatly eased merely by the sight of her. She glanced at Eva, trying to gauge her mood.
"I'm helpin', aren't I, Auntie Eva?"
"That's right. Have some coffee," Eva invited. "It's fresh. Penny made it."
"You did?" Bobby smiled at her daughter.
"All by myself," Penny said proudly.
"Yes, she did," Eva confirmed. "And later on, she's going to help me with the cooking." So everything was all right, Bobby thought, pouring herself some coffee, saying, "I could give you a hand, if you like." "I'll put both of you to work," Eva said, with a pair of tongs dropping cooked strips of bacon onto several folded paper towels. "What time's your girl due home?" Bobby asked.
"Knowing Melissa, she'll probably arrive as we're about to sit down to eat. The car will be crammed with bags of dirty laundry, and for the next two days the machines'll be going nonstop." She squirted liquid detergent on the broiler pan, ran some water over it, then put four slices of bread into the toaster. Moving to take the bowl of eggs from Penny, she smiled and said, "These are perfect, Pen. One day you'll be a good cook."
"Yeah." Penny grinned. "C'n I have some coffee, too?"
"A little bit," Bobby said, "if that's okay with Eva."
"It's okay," Eva said.
Bobby fixed a cup that was half milk and half coffee, added a small amount of sugar, and told Pen to sit down properly at the table to drink it. "Coffee's good," Penny said appreciatively. Eva finished scrambling the eggs, then arranged a plate for Alma. "Help yourself to some breakfast," she told Bobby, lifting the tray.
"You hungry?" Bobby asked Pen after Eva had gone.
"C'n I have some bacon?"
"Sure." Bobby got a plate, put two strips of bacon and a piece of toast on it and set it in front of Penny. She'd just resumed her seat and lifted her mug of coffee when the doorbell rang. She started, eyes going wide. "Somebody's at the door," Pen said, wriggling off her chair. "I'll go see." Before Bobby could say a word, she was racing down the hall.
Getting up to follow her, her mind filled with an image of Joe, Bobby was right behind her as Penny unlocked the door. There on the doorstep was a young woman who had to be Eva's daughter, an immense backpack weighing her down, half a dozen assorted straw and canvas bags at her feet. "Couldn't find the key," she said as if to herself. Then, "Hi! Who're you?" she asked Penny.
"I'm Penny Salton. I'm six. Who're you?"
With a laugh, the young woman said, "I'm Melissa Rule. I'm twenty. You going to let me in?" "Yup! Want me to carry some of those?" "That'd be great." Swinging the heavy pack down off her back, Melissa looked over and said, "Hi. You're the nurse, right?"
"That's right. I'm Bobby."
Penny dragged one of the bags into the hall, then darted back for another. "She's cute," Melissa told Bobby, going to the door to collect more of the bags.
Bobby thought Melissa was one of the most beautiful girls she'd ever seen. Tall and well-built with thick dark brown hair falling almost to her waist, a creamy complexion, with round eyes so dark they were almost black, a strong nose, wide smile, and slightly squared cleft chin. She was dressed like a hippie, in a long Indian cotton skirt, a white turtleneck under a black shirt and a rough-woven Guatemalan vest. On her feet she wore heavy gray woolen socks and ugly double-strapped sandals. On anyone else the outfit would have been dreadful. But on Melissa it looked good.
"Where's Mom?" she asked Bobby, dropping the last of the bags in the front hall. "Upstairs, giving Alma her breakfast. Are you hungry? There's food already fixed."
"Fantastic! I could eat a truck."
"You c'n come eat with me," Penny said, taking hold of her hand and swinging it back and forth. "Great!" Melissa let Penny tow her to the kitchen. "There's fresh coffee," Bobby said, "if you'd like some." "I'll get it." Melissa poured a mug of coffee, added cream and several
spoonfuls of sugar, then sat down at the table, dropping her head to smile close-to at Penny. "You're a real sweetie, aren't you? What grade're you in?"
"First," Penny said, munching on a strip of bacon. "What grade're you in?"
"I'm a sophomore in college." Melissa drank some of the coffee. "I need this," she told Bobby. "I stayed up till almost three working on this paper and then it seemed pretty pointless to go to bed for two hours, so I loaded the car and took off. I made fantastic time. The roads were empty."
"You must be tired," Bobby said.
"Completely whacked," Melissa said. "I figure I'll grab a nap before dinner. Mom's going to freak when she comes down and finds me here. She hates surprises. And she'll have fits over the laundry." She smiled as if speaking of a difficult but lovable child. "How's Aunt Alma doing?"
"Oh, really well," Bobby said, finding Melissa immediately and enormously likable. "I made the coffee," Penny announced, wiping toast crumbs from her face with the back of her hand.
"Use your napkin, Pen."
"You did?" Melissa said. "It's excellent."
"Yeah," Penny said, "I know. I made your bed, too."
"Wow!" Melissa said. "You're something, hunh?"
"Yeah." Penny beamed with satisfaction.
Eva came down the stairs with the tray, saw the bags in the hallway, and felt instantly annoyed and elated. Melissa was home.
Bobby got a whole new perspective on Eva when she came in with the tray and saw Melissa. Her face lit up and she smiled so hard it looked as if she might cry. She put the tray down. Melissa got up saying, "Hi, Mom," and Eva hugged her, asking, "Did you stay up all night?"
"Yup."
"Well, you look all right in spite of it."
"Thanks. You look all right, too. I'll just run up and see Auntie Alma for a minute."
Eva let her go, appearing somewhat dazed. Then she laughed, ran a hand through her hair, and said to Bobby, "Didn't I tell you she'd bring home a carful of laundry?" She felt like screaming. On top of all the preparations for dinner, she'd be up to her ears in laundry. Why the hell did Melissa do this every time? It wasn't as if there weren't laundry facilities at the school.
Bobby smiled. "She's real nice," she said. "Looks a lot like you."
"She looks like her father," Eva said, clearing the tray, putting dishes in the sink. She told herself to forget it, but those bags in the front hall infuriated her.
"He must've been a real … really good-looking man."
"Yes," Eva said. "He was."
Sensing it was time to get out of the way, Bobby said, "Come on, Pen. You can watch TV while I get Alma up and dressed." "Auntie Eva said I can help her with the cookin'." "Later," Bobby said firmly.
"Melissa's a glorious girl, isn't she?" Alma said as Bobby brushed her hair.
"She's beautiful," Bobby agreed.
"Beautiful and intelligent and wonderfully good-natured. She's the only
one who can actually handle Eva. She simply laughs and teases her when Eva starts carrying on about something or other. Calms her right down. It's difficult to stay angry when someone's standing there laughing at you."
"I guess so," Bobby said, drawing the brush through the thick silver hair.
"College has opened her mind," Alma said. "She's positively blossomed."
"Sometimes I wish I'd gone," Bobby said, imagining ivy-covered buildings and students rushing through echoey corridors. "You could take some evening courses," Alma said, "study something that interests you." "I don't know about that." Bobby could almost hear Joe laughing at the idea of her taking courses, learning new things. "Think about it," Alma counseled. "It would be good for you."
"I always wished I'd learned typing." "Then take a course," Alma said. "You can do anything, you know. Anything at all. You simply have to decide to try." "What would I have to do?" Bobby asked, imagining there'd be tests to pass befo
re they'd even let her in the door. "You get a catalogue and decide what interests you, then you sign up for the course. There's nothing to it."
"Really? You don't have to pass exams or anything to get in?"
"You enroll for a course and you go. It's that simple. You like the idea of that, don't you?" Alma turned her head to look at her.
"I never knew you could do that," Bobby said, gathering the mass of hair in her hands and shaping it into a coil. "It's something to think about, all right."
"You could acquire new skills," Alma said, "become more independent. After all," she reasoned, "you don't want to spend the rest of your life looking after some cantankerous old woman."
"I wouldn't mind," Bobby said, pinning the hair into place. "I like it here." "It's not enough," Alma said sternly. "You could do more. It's important to work to your full potential."
"I'm already doing that."
"You are not!" Alma barked. "You must consider the future, consider Penny's future. Are you done with that yet?" "Uh-hunh. All set." "Then, let's get downstairs. And think about what I've told you." "I will," Bobby promised, imagining herself going to work in some office,
maybe being a secretary to an important executive. She couldn't quite see it. But she did like the idea of learning new things.
The bags had all been emptied and an immense pile of dirty clothes sat on the floor in front of the washing machine. Melissa poured detergent over the first load, closed the lid, then started the machine. She got herself some more coffee, sat down at the table, and picked up the toast Penny had left, eyes on her mother as she pushed stuffing into the turkey.
She could tell her mother was pissed off again, probably because she'd stayed up all night and come home with a carful of laundry. No biggie, but her mother let dumb little things make her crazy. She was dying for a cigarette but knew if she lit up her mother would freak altogether. So she ate the cold toast, sipped the coffee, and watched her mother, pinpointing every last sign that indicated how pissed off she was: the eyebrows pulled together, mouth clamped shut, chin jutting, concentrating totally on cramming the bird full of damp stuffing.
"What's up?" she asked finally, wanting to get it out in the open so her whole visit wouldn't be wrecked. There were times when her mother could stay mad for an entire week. Sometimes her mother's moods made her want to crawl into bed and sleep for days on end. Admittedly, she'd been way better since she'd started seeing Charlie Willis. But she still had her moods. Partly it was because of her work, sitting up in the office every day and hardly ever seeing people, living inside her head. But the rest of it remained fairly much a mystery. It was hard to get her mother to talk about the things that really bothered her.
"Nothing's up," her mother said with that wide-eyed expression of innocence that was a dead giveaway.
"Come on," Melissa coaxed, smiling. "What is it, the laundry?"
"I was expecting that," her mother said, starting now on the bird's neck cavity, her brows drawing together again.
"What then?"
"Nothing, Melissa."
"Nothing, Melissa," Melissa mimicked her. "I know this routine. It's the mother-from-hell number."
Eva sighed and said, "I pay for laundry service at the school. Why can't you use it?"
"Oh, wow," Melissa said. "This is about laundry. I can't believe it. You're pissed because I brought my stuff home."
"It's inconvenient, especially today."
"Lighten up, Eva," Melissa said, and gave her a wide smile. "I'll get a couple of loads done now and finish the rest tomorrow. It's no biggie."
"It's very inconsiderate of you."
"Mother from hell murders daughter over laundry," Melissa said, as if reading a headline. "What're you really pissed about?"
"I loathe that expression."
"Okay. What is responsible for your puckered brow, Mommie dearest?"
Eva laughed giddily, and went to the sink to rinse her hands. Why did she always do this? Every time Melissa came home she started fault-finding. It had something to do with caring too much, with wanting to let go but being unable to relinquish the last flimsy strands of parental control. It also had to do with Melissa's youth and freedom, and Eva despised herself for feeling faintly jealous and resentful. Drying her hands, she looked over and said, "I'm sorry. I really don't give a damn about the laundry. Forget I said anything. I'm glad to see you."
Storm passes by, no damage done, Melissa thought. "Me too," she said.
"Mother from hell." Eva laughed, shamed by her daughter's forgiving nature.
"I'm going to grab a nap for a couple of hours. Okay?" Melissa got up.
"Good idea. You look tired."
"What time's dinner?"
"Three."
"Don't look at my feet," Melissa said. "I know you hate my Birkenstocks, but they're very comfortable." She moved closer and said, "Gimme a hug, Eva."
Again Eva had to laugh, and hugged her, running her hand over Melissa's luxuriant hair, jolted every time by her daughter's size and height, her adulthood, her astonishing reasonableness. "Go take your nap," she said, easing Melissa away, seeing the amusement shining in her eyes.
"You've really got to learn to lighten up, Eva," Melissa said, heading for the stairs. "Wake me in a couple of hours. Okay?"
"Okay," Eva said, watching her go, furious with herself for making a fuss over the laundry. What the hell was the matter with her?
Twenty-One
Everyone gathered in the living room to have a drink before the meal, and Bobby was able to stay in the background, sipping at a glass of red wine, and watching. Alma was having a white wine spritzer and Penny offered around a crystal dish with carrots and celery and olives. Then she went to squeeze in beside Melissa in one of the armchairs. Melissa didn't mind and sat with an arm around Pen, asking her about school. Eva was back and forth to the kitchen, pausing in between times to perch on the arm of Charlie's chair and drink some of her red wine. Bobby covertly studied them with interest, fascinated by this new view of Eva, and intrigued to see Melissa observing her mother as if their roles had been reversed and Melissa was the doting mother.
Once they moved to the dining room, Bobby cut up Alma's food the same as every other day, and would have cut Pen's too but Pen insisted that Melissa do it. Melissa laughed and did it. She was very good-natured, lively and full of fun, somehow exotic with her beautiful features and long flowing hair. She changed the atmosphere, made everything lighter, more amusing. Pen was captivated by her, didn't want to let Melissa out of her sight. With anyone else, Bobby would have worried that Pen was making a nuisance of herself, but Melissa obviously liked her so Bobby didn't say anything.
Eva's friend Charlie was a nice man, friendly and relaxed. He was slim and not too tall, and looked really good in gray slacks with a white shirt, a striped tie and a navy blazer with gold buttons. He had beautiful hands, immaculate, with long tapering fingers. Bobby liked him. He was someone who listened with his eyes, who gave approval in his very manner. She could easily imagine going to him for medical help. He would, she thought, be sympathetic and understanding. He didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable being the only man present, but actually appeared to enjoy it. He teased Alma but Bobby could tell she didn't mind. And Eva was altogether different with him and Melissa around. The wine changed her, too. She moved more slowly and laughed often, getting flushed in the face when Melissa talked about her laundry and how her mother had fits every time she came home with another carful.
At Alma's urging, Bobby kept the music going, getting up to go to the stereo in the living room and change the records or cassettes. Penny ate two helpings of stuffing but very little of anything else, even though Bobby whispered to her to eat some of the white meat she'd asked for.
"Never mind, Bobby," Eva said. Then to Penny, "The stuffing's a lot more interesting than the turkey, isn't it?"
"I love stuffin'," Penny declared. "It's better even than ice cream." To Melissa she explained, "Dennis bought us ice cream
at Baskin-Robbins."
"He did, hunh?" Melissa smiled over at Bobby.
"Yeah, after he took us to see the fish. And we saw a great big movie way high, higher than this whole house."
"You went to the Maritime Center, right?" Melissa said.
"That's right. You been there? It's really good."
"No, I haven't," Melissa said, "but I'd like to."
"I could go with you sometime," Penny said excitedly.
"Maybe we'll do that when I'm home for Christmas."
"Okay! And you know what else? Tomorrow Dennis is gettin' us tacos! I love tacos. You ever have them?"
"Yup. They're great," Melissa said.
Bobby kept her eyes on her plate, expecting somebody to comment on her and Pen's going out with Dennis, but no one did. Charlie asked Alma if she was doing her exercises, and Alma said, "This diminutive martinet has me laboring every afternoon."
"That's wonderful," Charlie said, and Bobby glanced up to see him smiling at her.
"She argues every time," Bobby said, then looked to see if Alma got mad, but she seemed pleased that Bobby was contributing to the conversation.
"Damned right I do," Alma concurred. "They're a colossal waste of time."
"You're just lazy," Charlie accused fondly.
Alma sniffed and speared some peas, forked them into her mouth.
"She could eventually get around with a walker," Charlie said, "if she keeps on with the exercises."
"That's great, Aunt Alma," Melissa began.
"I have no interest in a walker, thank you," Alma cut her off.
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