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Authors: Jane Smiley
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the stem that’s underground, so a mature plant can stand a lot of weather. When I looked up, Jess’s gaze was serious and intent. I said, “I’d like to hear more.”
He said, “You know, Alison saw things very darkly. Her parents lived in Manitoba, and they were extremely religious. When she went to live in Vancouver, they repudiated her in specifically biblical terms. The conviction that they truly thought she was damned dragged at her more and more as time went on. The fact was that she was a very kind person, generous and sweet and careful of people’s feelings. Actually, we never really knew whether the accident was an accident. She pulled into the oncoming lane of a two-lane highway, into the path of a semi. She had been depressed, that made it look like suicide. But she endangered someone else. That was very unlike her.”
I sat back on my heels and looked at him, but he smiled and said, “Please keep planting. It makes it easier to talk.” I dug another hole. He said, “I used to call her parents from bars and threaten to come to Manitoba and kill them. They always listened to me. Sometimes one or the other of them would get on the extension. While I was raving, they would be praying for me. I don’t think they ever felt remorse. I stopped doing that when I stopped drinking.” I lookedup. He smiled more broadly and said, “I’m all sweetness and light these days. Life affirmed.”
“I believe in that.” I dug another hole, then hazarded, “You look younger than Loren in some ways, but your face looks older. Harder. Or maybe just more knowing.”
“Really?”
“I think so.”
“I think you look younger than Rose, too.”
I didn’t have a reply for this, since it scared me a little to think of him looking at me at all. I said, “What did your—Alison look like?”
“Most people would have said she was rather plain. Square and solid, rather a long face. She was transformed by love.”
I glanced at him sharply, to see if he was making fun, and he caught my look. He said, “I’m not joking. She had beautiful eyes and nice teeth. When we were making love and other times, too, when she was very happy and excited, the expressions on her face made it beautiful. She could also be very graceful if she wasn’t thinking about her body or feeling self-conscious about it.”
“I’m impressed that you noticed.”
“We worked together at the crisis center. I watched her a long time before I fell in love with her. There was plenty of time to notice.”
“That’s the homely woman’s dream, you know. That someone will see actual beauty where others never have.”
“I know.”
I planted three or four more plants before we spoke again. Then I said, “Rose usually looks better, but her operation took a lot out of her.”
“What was that?”
“Loren and Harold didn’t tell you?”
“That Rose had an operation? No.”
“How irritating.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes it seem as if it wasn’t worth talking about. She had breast cancer. She just had the operation in February.”
“I doubt if Harold, or even Loren, has ever let the words ‘breast cancer’ pass his lips.” He smiled.
I looked deep into the hole I was digging. “Well, what did they tell you about your mother?”
“They just said cancer.”
“Well, it started out as breast cancer. Later on, it was just plain cancer. Lymphatic.”
“Now it’s your turn to tell me some things.”
“Like what?”
“About my mother.”
Disapproval of Jess Clark’s absence throughout Verna’s illness and death was a neighborhood article of faith, so my voice was a little tight when I said, “Are you sure you want to know?”
“No.”
“Well, think about it.”
“It was that bad, huh?”
“The lymphatic cancer actually wasn’t that bad, as cancers go. She felt kind of under the weather for a month or two, but would
not
go to the doctor, then Loren kind of abducted her into the doctor’s office, and he made the
He said, “You know, Alison saw things very darkly. Her parents lived in Manitoba, and they were extremely religious. When she went to live in Vancouver, they repudiated her in specifically biblical terms. The conviction that they truly thought she was damned dragged at her more and more as time went on. The fact was that she was a very kind person, generous and sweet and careful of people’s feelings. Actually, we never really knew whether the accident was an accident. She pulled into the oncoming lane of a two-lane highway, into the path of a semi. She had been depressed, that made it look like suicide. But she endangered someone else. That was very unlike her.”
I sat back on my heels and looked at him, but he smiled and said, “Please keep planting. It makes it easier to talk.” I dug another hole. He said, “I used to call her parents from bars and threaten to come to Manitoba and kill them. They always listened to me. Sometimes one or the other of them would get on the extension. While I was raving, they would be praying for me. I don’t think they ever felt remorse. I stopped doing that when I stopped drinking.” I lookedup. He smiled more broadly and said, “I’m all sweetness and light these days. Life affirmed.”
“I believe in that.” I dug another hole, then hazarded, “You look younger than Loren in some ways, but your face looks older. Harder. Or maybe just more knowing.”
“Really?”
“I think so.”
“I think you look younger than Rose, too.”
I didn’t have a reply for this, since it scared me a little to think of him looking at me at all. I said, “What did your—Alison look like?”
“Most people would have said she was rather plain. Square and solid, rather a long face. She was transformed by love.”
I glanced at him sharply, to see if he was making fun, and he caught my look. He said, “I’m not joking. She had beautiful eyes and nice teeth. When we were making love and other times, too, when she was very happy and excited, the expressions on her face made it beautiful. She could also be very graceful if she wasn’t thinking about her body or feeling self-conscious about it.”
“I’m impressed that you noticed.”
“We worked together at the crisis center. I watched her a long time before I fell in love with her. There was plenty of time to notice.”
“That’s the homely woman’s dream, you know. That someone will see actual beauty where others never have.”
“I know.”
I planted three or four more plants before we spoke again. Then I said, “Rose usually looks better, but her operation took a lot out of her.”
“What was that?”
“Loren and Harold didn’t tell you?”
“That Rose had an operation? No.”
“How irritating.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes it seem as if it wasn’t worth talking about. She had breast cancer. She just had the operation in February.”
“I doubt if Harold, or even Loren, has ever let the words ‘breast cancer’ pass his lips.” He smiled.
I looked deep into the hole I was digging. “Well, what did they tell you about your mother?”
“They just said cancer.”
“Well, it started out as breast cancer. Later on, it was just plain cancer. Lymphatic.”
“Now it’s your turn to tell me some things.”
“Like what?”
“About my mother.”
Disapproval of Jess Clark’s absence throughout Verna’s illness and death was a neighborhood article of faith, so my voice was a little tight when I said, “Are you sure you want to know?”
“No.”
“Well, think about it.”
“It was that bad, huh?”
“The lymphatic cancer actually wasn’t that bad, as cancers go. She felt kind of under the weather for a month or two, but would
not
go to the doctor, then Loren kind of abducted her into the doctor’s office, and he made the
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