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goes.”
“Yeah, I remember discussing that.”
“Miss Mann was talking loud enough for me to hear.”
Maureen smiled. “I remember she was a bit intense. She’d heard a preacher, someone on the radio, I think. Sherry can get pretty excited.”
“She was saying that verse didn’t mean you have to be a doormat.” Colleen bit her lip again. “Mom, don’t take this bad. But sometimes you—”
“What?” Maureen leaned away from Colleen, instinctively braced herself.
“You started using this tone.” She grimaced. “It’s like you’re that icky computerized voice the doctor’s office uses. You know, the one they put on your answering machine to remind you about an appointment? It’s so totally fake.”
Maureen could feel the tension creeping back to claim her again. “Colleen, that’s not—”
“And then you said … you said something like ‘a wife should be a servant,’ and ‘we’re supposed to deny ourselves for our family.’” She frowned again. “In that voice. ”
Unsure of what Colleen was accusing, Maureen offered, “Well, that’s true.”
Colleen’s eyes flew wide open. “ That’s it— that’s the voice, Mom.”
Maureen’s head flinched as though she’d been splashed with ice water, and she felt a stab of pain in her neck from the reflexive action. Irritably, she returned, “But that’s what the Bible says, Colleen. And well, that’s the way it should be.” She reached up to rub the base of her neck.
“But Mom. There’s gotta be a difference between serving. And being a doormat. ’Cause Eddie and I think his mom—”
“Colleen. You and Eddie have no right to … Eddie especially, nor you … you’re not being respectful. And Miss Mann wasn’t saying that … she wasn’t even talking about Mrs. Esteban.” Maureen stood suddenly, fussing with the covers, retucking the sheet into hospital corners. “You need to get back to sleep or … or you’ll be sick tomorrow.”
“I knew it.”
“What?”
“I knew you wouldn’t listen.” Colleen pulled the bedspread up over her eyes and flipped over toward the wall.
“That’s not fair, Colleen. I did so listen. I just disagree.”
From beneath the covers, a mumbled, “Whatever.”
Maureen started to reach forward, longing to touch the top of her daughter’s head, but then hesitated. And decided not to. She stared down at Colleen for a few more moments and turned to go, softly closing the door behind her. Another quick peek into Aubrey’s room proved they hadn’t awakened her; she was still sleeping soundly. Then Maureen jumped at the sudden press of soft fur at her feet.
“Oh, Bobo. You up too?” She reached down to pick him up, felt him squirm in her arms, the telltale sign that he was happily wagging his tail. “Okay, we’ll cheat this one time. But don’t you dare let Daddy know what we’ve done or you’ll get me into trouble.”
Once more she walked softly toward Aubrey’s doorway. She tiptoed into the room, depositing Bobo on the bed where he immediately padded around in three circles and curled up in the bend of the back of Aubrey’s knees. Besides a lap, his favorite place to cuddle.
Maureen smiled, thinking how delighted Aubrey would be to discover him there when she woke. At least maybe one of my daughters will be happy with me tomorrow morning, she thought.
Back in bed, Maureen finally drifted off to sleep, but she still tossed and turned, waking nearly every hour to stare at the bedside clock that had become an enemy. And each time Maureen woke, she would turn to face the window and—stubbornly, even compulsively—search for another of those elusive stars.
May 2009
In the intervening weeks, Maureen’s very spirit felt as though it were slowly draining away. Every area of her life shouted that she had failed—as a wife, a mother, a friend. Her routine forced her to get up every morning and go through her day. Household chores that kept the Roberts family functioning adequately,
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