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Authors: Marcia Talley
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they had used to treat his wound couldn’t mask the sickly sweet chemical smell of alcohol metabolizing through his skin.
Daddy was in deep, deep trouble.
chapter
6
The light of a gray dawn was spreading over the city of Annapolis when we emerged from the hospital, walking stiffly and sluggishly, like bears crawling from their dens after a long winter.
I stretched.
Paul yawned.
Ruth said, “Isn’t anybody listening? I’m hungry.”
I glanced at Paul and we said “Chick and Ruth’s” almost at the same moment. No one needed to twist my arm. I wasn’t in any mood for cooking.
From the hospital, we walked east on Cathedral until it intersected with Conduit, then we veered left toward town. Paul held my hand the whole way and I felt light-headed, almost giddy, like back in the days when we were dating. I recognized one contributing factor, lack of sleep, and wondered when I’d get a chance for a little shut-eye.
Chick & Ruth’s Delly, an Annapolis institution since 1965, backs on Gorham Street near the municipal parking garage and is just up Main Street from MotherEarth. Paul pulled the back door open and we hustled through it into the upper dining room, then snaked our way through the closely packed tables and down the narrow stairway toward the front of the restaurant. Behind a long counter on our right, waitresses and countermen worked the drink machines, the sandwich lines, and the grill with practiced speed.
“This OK?” Paul indicated a booth near the front. “The Governor’s Office,” the booth that adjoined it, was roped off as usual, although I doubted that Parris N. Glendening would be bopping in for breakfast at seven-thirty on a Sunday morning.
Ruth slid a menu toward me across the black Formica tabletop, but I tucked it back on the elevated metal condiment shelf attached to the booth. “First things first,” I said, squirming a bit to get comfortable on the lumpy vinyl chair. I extracted the cell phone from my bag. “I need to call Emily.” I punched in our telephone number. “Order me a coffee, will you?”
Emily answered, breathless, on the first ring. “Where the hell are you?”
When I told her what had happened, she gasped, recovered, then sounded almost relieved. “I panicked, Mom, I swear to God, I panicked when I looked in your room and neither you nor Daddy was there.”
It was a dig, but I couldn’t resist. “Did you think we’d run away or something?”
“Not funny, Mother.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” The coffee had come, so I added some sugar and cream and gave it an absentminded stir. “Look, pumpkin, will you do me a favor?”
“What is it?”
I paused for a moment, not quite believing what I was about to say. Although I’d rather not see Darleneever again, I had to be fair to Dad. He would want her to know.
“Mom? Are you there?”
“Sorry, I was just fixing my coffee. Look, honey. Would you call Darlene Tinsley and tell her about your grandfather’s accident? I have her number written down in the flip-top phone book in the kitchen.”
“OK, but you owe me.” Emily paused. “You know I don’t like her very much.”
“Be nice, now. She’s your grandfather’s friend.”
“For sure. And, Mom?”
“What?”
“I love you.”
I pushed the End button and stared at the tiny display screen, nearly overcome with emotion. During Emily’s troubled teenage years, I would gladly have paid a million dollars to hear her say those words. I laid down the phone and took a grateful sip of coffee, rich with cream and sugar, letting it roll over my tongue and down my throat like a soothing balm. I took time to survey the busy restaurant, but the cheerful orange booths and bright orange-and-yellow vinyl chairs and barstools did little to sunny up my disposition.
“Do you want to see the menu?” Paul asked, even though we both had it practically memorized. In any case, the main menu options were plastered all over the walls on colorful disks the size of
Daddy was in deep, deep trouble.
chapter
6
The light of a gray dawn was spreading over the city of Annapolis when we emerged from the hospital, walking stiffly and sluggishly, like bears crawling from their dens after a long winter.
I stretched.
Paul yawned.
Ruth said, “Isn’t anybody listening? I’m hungry.”
I glanced at Paul and we said “Chick and Ruth’s” almost at the same moment. No one needed to twist my arm. I wasn’t in any mood for cooking.
From the hospital, we walked east on Cathedral until it intersected with Conduit, then we veered left toward town. Paul held my hand the whole way and I felt light-headed, almost giddy, like back in the days when we were dating. I recognized one contributing factor, lack of sleep, and wondered when I’d get a chance for a little shut-eye.
Chick & Ruth’s Delly, an Annapolis institution since 1965, backs on Gorham Street near the municipal parking garage and is just up Main Street from MotherEarth. Paul pulled the back door open and we hustled through it into the upper dining room, then snaked our way through the closely packed tables and down the narrow stairway toward the front of the restaurant. Behind a long counter on our right, waitresses and countermen worked the drink machines, the sandwich lines, and the grill with practiced speed.
“This OK?” Paul indicated a booth near the front. “The Governor’s Office,” the booth that adjoined it, was roped off as usual, although I doubted that Parris N. Glendening would be bopping in for breakfast at seven-thirty on a Sunday morning.
Ruth slid a menu toward me across the black Formica tabletop, but I tucked it back on the elevated metal condiment shelf attached to the booth. “First things first,” I said, squirming a bit to get comfortable on the lumpy vinyl chair. I extracted the cell phone from my bag. “I need to call Emily.” I punched in our telephone number. “Order me a coffee, will you?”
Emily answered, breathless, on the first ring. “Where the hell are you?”
When I told her what had happened, she gasped, recovered, then sounded almost relieved. “I panicked, Mom, I swear to God, I panicked when I looked in your room and neither you nor Daddy was there.”
It was a dig, but I couldn’t resist. “Did you think we’d run away or something?”
“Not funny, Mother.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” The coffee had come, so I added some sugar and cream and gave it an absentminded stir. “Look, pumpkin, will you do me a favor?”
“What is it?”
I paused for a moment, not quite believing what I was about to say. Although I’d rather not see Darleneever again, I had to be fair to Dad. He would want her to know.
“Mom? Are you there?”
“Sorry, I was just fixing my coffee. Look, honey. Would you call Darlene Tinsley and tell her about your grandfather’s accident? I have her number written down in the flip-top phone book in the kitchen.”
“OK, but you owe me.” Emily paused. “You know I don’t like her very much.”
“Be nice, now. She’s your grandfather’s friend.”
“For sure. And, Mom?”
“What?”
“I love you.”
I pushed the End button and stared at the tiny display screen, nearly overcome with emotion. During Emily’s troubled teenage years, I would gladly have paid a million dollars to hear her say those words. I laid down the phone and took a grateful sip of coffee, rich with cream and sugar, letting it roll over my tongue and down my throat like a soothing balm. I took time to survey the busy restaurant, but the cheerful orange booths and bright orange-and-yellow vinyl chairs and barstools did little to sunny up my disposition.
“Do you want to see the menu?” Paul asked, even though we both had it practically memorized. In any case, the main menu options were plastered all over the walls on colorful disks the size of
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