Read Online Open House by Elizabeth Berg - Free Book Online Page B

need money—”
    “I certainly
don’t
need your money! Have I ever asked you for money? Ever? Even once?”
    “Well, then, I’m sorry if you feel—”
    Veronica puts her hand on my arm, squeezes it. “Oh, it’s all right. I understand. You’re confused right now, honey, doing things on the spur of the moment that you probably don’t understand yourself. You didn’t think to ask me. You probably thought I wouldn’t want to live with you and Travis. Oh now, darling, of course I would. But not quite yet. Maybe a few years from now, all right?”
    I straighten, stand silently. What is it that I feel so often around my mother? Amazement? Confusion? Is it anger?
    “You know, if I did live here . . . I’ve always thought a little chintz in that family room is all you need. That’s what I’d do. Recover the sofa.”
    “Right.”
    My mother turns the key in the ignition. Engelbert Humperdinck blasts out a plea for forgiveness, not having known it would end this way. Veronica respectfully turns him down. “Call me, later. There’s someone I want you to meet. This one you’ll really like.”
    “Ma—”
    She flutters her fingers. “I’ll talk to you soon.” Then she turns the radio back up and pulls away, her right blinker gaily flashing, as it usually is. I head back for the house, irritated at the fact that my mother is right. I am confused.
    I AM DREAMING that someone is shaking my shoulder. And then I realize that someone
is
shaking my shoulder. “What,” I say loudly, irritated, my eyes closed. Then, sitting up quickly, “What is it? Travis? What’s wrong?”
    He puts his fingers to his lips, gestures for me to follow. I look at the clock: 3:07.
    “What are you doing?” I change my voice to a whisper, remembering, suddenly, that someone else is in the house. “It’s the middle of the night! Are you sick?” I reach out to feel his forehead.
    He pulls away impatiently. “Come with me,” he says urgently, and I follow him down the hall. Outside Lydia’s shut door, he stops, waits. And then I hear it. Snoring. Loud snoring, cartoon variety. I look at Travis, cover my mouth as I start to laugh. But he is not amused. “
Mom,
” he whispers fiercely. “It isn’t
funny
!”
    He shakes his head, then goes back into his bedroom, slams the door. I go in after him, sit on his bed. “Travis . . .” He pulls the pillow over his head. I try to take it off and he pulls it more tightly over him.
    “You can’t breathe when you do that, you know.”
    “Who cares?” His voice is muffled, shaky with tears.
    “Come out from under there. I want to talk to you.”
    “I don’t want to talk. You’re just
crazy
.” He turns away from me.
    I yank the pillow off, turn him over. “Now, you listen here. You listen to me. Don’t you dare talk to me like that. I am your mother. And I am not crazy. I am . . . Things are changing, that’s all, Travis. They are changing because they have to. And don’t you slam doors at three in the morning, either! Some people are trying to sleep.”
    He watches me through narrowed eyes, says nothing.
    Finally, I say, “Well,
what,
Travis? What’s the big deal? So she snores.”
    “She woke me up! I have to go to school tomorrow! I have to get a good night’s sleep!”
    I refrain from commenting on this new interest in academic responsibilities, say instead, “Tomorrow’s Sunday, Travis.”
    “Well, fine, but she probably snores every night.”
    “I suppose she might. But you’ll get used to it. You really will. You’d be surprised what you can get used to. After a few nights, you won’t even notice it.”
    “Who wants to get used to it? Who wants an old lady living here, anyway? She’s not even my grandma.”
    “No, she’s not.”
    “So why is she here?”
    “I told you. Dad left. If we want to keep living here, we need a roommate to help pay for the mortgage. Remember, I told you that?”
    Nothing.
    “Travis?”
    “Yes, I remember.” His voice is quiet now,