Read Online For One More Day by Mitch Albom - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mitch Albom
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hand out. I straggle over, my arms at my side. She pulls me in, but I resist. I am angry with her. I will remain angry with her until the day I leave this house for good. I know who it was. And I am angry that she wouldn't let my father stay.
ALL RIGHT, ROSE," my mother was saying as I reentered the room,
'^you're going to look beautiful. Just give it a half hour. "
"Who was on the phone, dear? " Rose asked me.
I could barely shake my head. My fingers were trembling. "Charley? "
my mother asked. "Are you all right? "
"It wasn't... " I swallowed. "There was no one there. "
"Maybe it was a salesman," Rose said. "They're afraid when men answer the phone. They like old ladies like me. "
I sat down. I felt suddenly spent, too tired to keep my chin up. What had just happened? Whose voice was that? How did someone know where to find me, yet not come get me? The harder I tried to think, the dizzier I got.
"Are you tired, Charley? " my mother asked.
"Just... give me a second. " My eyes drooped shut.
"Sleep, " I heard a voice say, but I couldn't tell which of them said it, that's how gone I was.
Times My Mother Stood Up for Me
I am fifteen and, for the first time, I need to shave. There are stray hairs on my chin and straggly hairs above my lip. My mother calls me to the bathroom one night after Roberta is asleep. She has purchased a Gillette Safety Razor, two stainless steel blades, and a tube of Burma-Shave cream.
"Do you know how to do this?"
"Of course, " I say. I have no idea how to do it. "Go ahead, "she says.
I squeeze the cream from the tube. I dab it on my face. "You rub it in,
"she says.
I rub it in. I keep going until my cheeks and chin are covered. I take the razor. "Be careful, "she says. "Pull in one direction, not up and down. "
"I know, " I say, annoyed. I am uncomfortable doing this in front of my mother. It should be my father. She knows it. I know it. Neither one of us says it.
I follow her instructions. I pull in one direction, watching the cream scrape away in a broad line. When I pull the blade over my chin, it sticks and I feel a cut.
Oooh, Charley, are you all right?"
She reaches for me, then pulls her hands back as if she knows she shouldn't. "Stop worrying, " I say, determined to keep going.
She watches. I continue. I pull down around my jaw and my neck-When I am finished, she puts her cheek in one hand and smiles. She whispers, in a British accent, "By George, you've got it"
That makes me feel good.
"Now wash your face, " she says.
Times I Did Not Stand Up for My Mother
It is Halloween. I am sixteen now, too old to go trick-or-treating. But my sister wants me to take her out after supper–she is convinced you get better candy when it's dark–so I reluctantly agree, as long as my new girlfriend, Joanie, can come with us. Joanie is a sophomore cheerleader and I am, by this point, a star on the varsity baseball team.
"Let's gofar away and get all new candy, " my sister says.
It is cold outside, and we dig our hands in our pockets as we walk from house to house. Roberta collects her candy in a brown paper shopping bag. I wear my baseball jacket. Joanie wears her cheerleading sweater.
"Trick or treat!" my sister squeals when a door opens.
"Oh, and who are you, dear?" the woman says. She is about my mother's age, I guess, but she has red hair and is wearing a housedress and has badly drawn eyebrows.
"I'm a pirate, " Roberta says. "Grrr. "
The woman smiles and drops a chocolate bar in my sister's bag as if dropping a penny in a bank, It goes plunk
"I'm her brother, " I say.
"I'm... with them, "Joanie says. "And do I know your parents?"
She is about to drop another bar in my sister's bag. "My mom is Mrs.
Benetto, " Roberta says.
The woman halts. She pulls the candy back. "Don't you mean Miss Benetto?"she says.
None of us know what to say. The woman's expression has changed and those drawn eyebrows are straining downward.
"Now you listen to me, sweetie. Tell your mother that
ALL RIGHT, ROSE," my mother was saying as I reentered the room,
'^you're going to look beautiful. Just give it a half hour. "
"Who was on the phone, dear? " Rose asked me.
I could barely shake my head. My fingers were trembling. "Charley? "
my mother asked. "Are you all right? "
"It wasn't... " I swallowed. "There was no one there. "
"Maybe it was a salesman," Rose said. "They're afraid when men answer the phone. They like old ladies like me. "
I sat down. I felt suddenly spent, too tired to keep my chin up. What had just happened? Whose voice was that? How did someone know where to find me, yet not come get me? The harder I tried to think, the dizzier I got.
"Are you tired, Charley? " my mother asked.
"Just... give me a second. " My eyes drooped shut.
"Sleep, " I heard a voice say, but I couldn't tell which of them said it, that's how gone I was.
Times My Mother Stood Up for Me
I am fifteen and, for the first time, I need to shave. There are stray hairs on my chin and straggly hairs above my lip. My mother calls me to the bathroom one night after Roberta is asleep. She has purchased a Gillette Safety Razor, two stainless steel blades, and a tube of Burma-Shave cream.
"Do you know how to do this?"
"Of course, " I say. I have no idea how to do it. "Go ahead, "she says.
I squeeze the cream from the tube. I dab it on my face. "You rub it in,
"she says.
I rub it in. I keep going until my cheeks and chin are covered. I take the razor. "Be careful, "she says. "Pull in one direction, not up and down. "
"I know, " I say, annoyed. I am uncomfortable doing this in front of my mother. It should be my father. She knows it. I know it. Neither one of us says it.
I follow her instructions. I pull in one direction, watching the cream scrape away in a broad line. When I pull the blade over my chin, it sticks and I feel a cut.
Oooh, Charley, are you all right?"
She reaches for me, then pulls her hands back as if she knows she shouldn't. "Stop worrying, " I say, determined to keep going.
She watches. I continue. I pull down around my jaw and my neck-When I am finished, she puts her cheek in one hand and smiles. She whispers, in a British accent, "By George, you've got it"
That makes me feel good.
"Now wash your face, " she says.
Times I Did Not Stand Up for My Mother
It is Halloween. I am sixteen now, too old to go trick-or-treating. But my sister wants me to take her out after supper–she is convinced you get better candy when it's dark–so I reluctantly agree, as long as my new girlfriend, Joanie, can come with us. Joanie is a sophomore cheerleader and I am, by this point, a star on the varsity baseball team.
"Let's gofar away and get all new candy, " my sister says.
It is cold outside, and we dig our hands in our pockets as we walk from house to house. Roberta collects her candy in a brown paper shopping bag. I wear my baseball jacket. Joanie wears her cheerleading sweater.
"Trick or treat!" my sister squeals when a door opens.
"Oh, and who are you, dear?" the woman says. She is about my mother's age, I guess, but she has red hair and is wearing a housedress and has badly drawn eyebrows.
"I'm a pirate, " Roberta says. "Grrr. "
The woman smiles and drops a chocolate bar in my sister's bag as if dropping a penny in a bank, It goes plunk
"I'm her brother, " I say.
"I'm... with them, "Joanie says. "And do I know your parents?"
She is about to drop another bar in my sister's bag. "My mom is Mrs.
Benetto, " Roberta says.
The woman halts. She pulls the candy back. "Don't you mean Miss Benetto?"she says.
None of us know what to say. The woman's expression has changed and those drawn eyebrows are straining downward.
"Now you listen to me, sweetie. Tell your mother that
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