the next day. “Can you bring it at night,” Lee asked her, glancing at the car. “My mother goes to bed early.” The ladies exchanged looks and Sue, said, “No problem. I get off at 8:00.” That's perfect, Lee thought, because Mom will be asleep on the couch by then.
Her steps were light that day and her tummy did little flops. That night after writing in her worry journal, she imagined sitting on the floor next to an enormous tree, decorated with small ornate glass ornaments and twinkling lights. Under the tree were many presents in store-bought wrapping with giant bows, all for Lee. She and her mother were in new Christmas pajamas and slippers, sipping cocoa. Her mother, eyes twinkling like Pa's from “Little House on the Prairie”, patted her hand. “I wish we had some new cups to drink this cocoa from.” And Lee said, kind of casually so as not to give away the surprise, said, “Maybe you should open my gift now.” Her mother's face lit with excitement as she opened the box and saw the cups. “How were you ever so clever to think of it?” Lee shrugged modestly. Her mother took them out of the box one at a time, examining them in ecstatic excitement. “They're so beautiful. Maybe we should have a dinner party!”
But of course it wasn't that way.
When her mother tore open the newspaper Lee used in place of wrapping paper, she looked at them, a mixture of disdain and displeasure on her face. “What do we need all these for?”
“It's how they come, Mom. They don't come in packages of two.”
She reached further into the box and pulled out a salad plate. “What are we gonna use these for?”
Lee's face turned pink. “They're for salad. Or dessert.”
“May as well just put everything on the same plate. Less to wash.” Her mother picked up the packaging and stuffed it back in the box. “You can put them away later, once you figure out what to do with the perfectly good dishes we already have.” Lee excused herself, ran to the bathroom and sat on the floor crying until she heard her mother call from downstairs that she needed more ice from the freezer in the shed.
After that she didn't allow herself any fantasies that involved her mother.
Now, Lee drank several teacups of water and then washed the cup and put it into the cupboard. She leaned next the sink and looked at the ancient stove and remembered a cold night, two frozen dinners heating in the oven. Her mother leaned on the counter, flicking her cigarette in the glass ashtray and sipping vodka on ice. Lee sat at the table, drawing a picture of an exotic bird from a photo in a magazine. The house seemed cozy, like they were a family from one of Lee's fantasies. She imagined her father would arrive home from work any minute, dressed in a suit and holding a briefcase. He might kiss her on the head, and call her ‘honey’. Her mother lifted her glass in a gesture towards the drawing. “What is that now, a bird?” “A parrot, mommy, but it's not right because I need color markers to make the feathers.” Her mother snatched the paper from the table and ripped it in two. “You think I have money growing from trees to buy you anything you want?” She slammed her glass on the counter and an ice cube fell on the floor. “Do you?” Eleanor poured more vodka in her glass and yanked the hot tin dinner from the oven. “You want to keep eating?” “Yes, mommy.” She threw the tin on the table, and drops of Salisbury steak gravy splattered onto Lee's homework folder. “Then shut up about pens.”
Lee felt hot from the memory and washed her face at the sink. She wished she could call Linus but knew she could not risk alerting Von to her new location. It seemed like a month since she left him when really it was just fourteen hours since she'd said good-bye.
It felt like the last eighteen years were a dream, and maybe she'd never really left. She felt the old sensation of being invisible, unsure if she even existed.
She stared into the empty
Her steps were light that day and her tummy did little flops. That night after writing in her worry journal, she imagined sitting on the floor next to an enormous tree, decorated with small ornate glass ornaments and twinkling lights. Under the tree were many presents in store-bought wrapping with giant bows, all for Lee. She and her mother were in new Christmas pajamas and slippers, sipping cocoa. Her mother, eyes twinkling like Pa's from “Little House on the Prairie”, patted her hand. “I wish we had some new cups to drink this cocoa from.” And Lee said, kind of casually so as not to give away the surprise, said, “Maybe you should open my gift now.” Her mother's face lit with excitement as she opened the box and saw the cups. “How were you ever so clever to think of it?” Lee shrugged modestly. Her mother took them out of the box one at a time, examining them in ecstatic excitement. “They're so beautiful. Maybe we should have a dinner party!”
But of course it wasn't that way.
When her mother tore open the newspaper Lee used in place of wrapping paper, she looked at them, a mixture of disdain and displeasure on her face. “What do we need all these for?”
“It's how they come, Mom. They don't come in packages of two.”
She reached further into the box and pulled out a salad plate. “What are we gonna use these for?”
Lee's face turned pink. “They're for salad. Or dessert.”
“May as well just put everything on the same plate. Less to wash.” Her mother picked up the packaging and stuffed it back in the box. “You can put them away later, once you figure out what to do with the perfectly good dishes we already have.” Lee excused herself, ran to the bathroom and sat on the floor crying until she heard her mother call from downstairs that she needed more ice from the freezer in the shed.
After that she didn't allow herself any fantasies that involved her mother.
Now, Lee drank several teacups of water and then washed the cup and put it into the cupboard. She leaned next the sink and looked at the ancient stove and remembered a cold night, two frozen dinners heating in the oven. Her mother leaned on the counter, flicking her cigarette in the glass ashtray and sipping vodka on ice. Lee sat at the table, drawing a picture of an exotic bird from a photo in a magazine. The house seemed cozy, like they were a family from one of Lee's fantasies. She imagined her father would arrive home from work any minute, dressed in a suit and holding a briefcase. He might kiss her on the head, and call her ‘honey’. Her mother lifted her glass in a gesture towards the drawing. “What is that now, a bird?” “A parrot, mommy, but it's not right because I need color markers to make the feathers.” Her mother snatched the paper from the table and ripped it in two. “You think I have money growing from trees to buy you anything you want?” She slammed her glass on the counter and an ice cube fell on the floor. “Do you?” Eleanor poured more vodka in her glass and yanked the hot tin dinner from the oven. “You want to keep eating?” “Yes, mommy.” She threw the tin on the table, and drops of Salisbury steak gravy splattered onto Lee's homework folder. “Then shut up about pens.”
Lee felt hot from the memory and washed her face at the sink. She wished she could call Linus but knew she could not risk alerting Von to her new location. It seemed like a month since she left him when really it was just fourteen hours since she'd said good-bye.
It felt like the last eighteen years were a dream, and maybe she'd never really left. She felt the old sensation of being invisible, unsure if she even existed.
She stared into the empty
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