Read Online Shining Sea by Anne Korkeakivi - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anne Korkeakivi
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son-in-law, and your sister-in-law and her kid, and Patrick and Johnny, and Father O’Malley. And us, of course.
Patrick and Johnny are friends of Ronnie. He didn’t invite any of his family. Not close is all he’s said about them. She didn’t pry; Ronnie’s a grown man and entitled to his privacy. Her own mother is too poorly to leave the house, much less travel this far outside San Francisco for the first time since Michael’s funeral and the second time ever, and her father won’t come down without her mother. Fifteen people total. Well, Ronnie is paying the bill. It’s his decision to make.
Francis is sitting in the living room when they arrive at the house, already dressed in the dark blue jacket and white button-down shirt she bought for him, bent over that beloved guitar he bought working on the pier with Eugene.
“You should have come to your father’s grave,” she tells him, setting Kenny down on the floor beside him.
In his typical maddening way, Francis stares up at her and says nothing. He doesn’t apologize or try to explain his behavior. But with his grown-up clothes on, his dark gold hair washed and slicked back, he looks so much like Michael and yet so much himself, such a startlingly handsome young man, it’s hard to scold him.
She sighs. “I’m going to go get ready. Watch your nephew.”
“What time do we need to leave for the church?” Jeanne asks, fussing with her handbag, averting her eyes as though approaching a delicate subject. “I mean, just to be sure Molly and I are ready in time. Well, you know what I mean.”
He’s a nice man, her sister-in-law told her last night, after Ronnie had said good night. And then, faltering just a little, I’m happy for you .
What does a sister-in-law become when the person who unites them is no longer living? Is Jeanne still her in-law, even? And you? she asked cheerfully, skipping right past the unspoken words, the thought that Michael would in some way be replaced this evening. Because he won’t. Michael will never be replaced. Just because he died doesn’t mean he stopped being her husband. She’ll just have two husbands. Barbara the bigamist. Are there any nice men in Poughkeepsie?
Jeanne looked embarrassed. Oh, Barbara. You know I am still married. I tell Molly I’m like Penelope from The Odyssey . When Paul gets back, I’ll be waiting .
Paul—ten years without sending so much as a postcard—is, for all intents and purposes, as gone as Michael is. The nuns taught The Odyssey in high school, and she remembers the story; Paul isn’t coming back and she’s willing to bet there are no suitors banging on Jeanne’s door like they were on Penelope’s, either. Poor Jeanne! Stuck with a husband who isn’t a husband. Probably everyone but Jeanne realized that Paul married her to get a green card—when they came out together to visit that one time, before Paul took off, he as much as told Michael so. He even made eyes at her, his own sister-in-law, when no one was looking.
You think he’s gone back to Canada? Although, of course, Paul didn’t go back to Canada. Why would he have married Jeanne for a green card and then gone back to Canada?
But Jeanne didn’t answer, and she understood suddenly: the way Jeanne deals with the failure of her marriage is not to think about Paul as flesh and blood, walking on earth, his wife and child forgotten. It’s easier to make a constellation out of her lost husband, a Greek myth, something abstract.
If that makes it easier for Jeanne, then fine. She’s certainly not one to argue with that. It’s hard, this life.
“We have an hour before we need to leave,” she says. “When Molly gets back, let her help herself in the kitchen. The ceremony won’t take long, but your inner clocks must be out of whack, what with the time difference.”
In the quiet of her bedroom, she gets Sissy’s stiff green dress from the closet.
“Don’t want to,” Sissy says, sitting on the bed, kicking the
Patrick and Johnny are friends of Ronnie. He didn’t invite any of his family. Not close is all he’s said about them. She didn’t pry; Ronnie’s a grown man and entitled to his privacy. Her own mother is too poorly to leave the house, much less travel this far outside San Francisco for the first time since Michael’s funeral and the second time ever, and her father won’t come down without her mother. Fifteen people total. Well, Ronnie is paying the bill. It’s his decision to make.
Francis is sitting in the living room when they arrive at the house, already dressed in the dark blue jacket and white button-down shirt she bought for him, bent over that beloved guitar he bought working on the pier with Eugene.
“You should have come to your father’s grave,” she tells him, setting Kenny down on the floor beside him.
In his typical maddening way, Francis stares up at her and says nothing. He doesn’t apologize or try to explain his behavior. But with his grown-up clothes on, his dark gold hair washed and slicked back, he looks so much like Michael and yet so much himself, such a startlingly handsome young man, it’s hard to scold him.
She sighs. “I’m going to go get ready. Watch your nephew.”
“What time do we need to leave for the church?” Jeanne asks, fussing with her handbag, averting her eyes as though approaching a delicate subject. “I mean, just to be sure Molly and I are ready in time. Well, you know what I mean.”
He’s a nice man, her sister-in-law told her last night, after Ronnie had said good night. And then, faltering just a little, I’m happy for you .
What does a sister-in-law become when the person who unites them is no longer living? Is Jeanne still her in-law, even? And you? she asked cheerfully, skipping right past the unspoken words, the thought that Michael would in some way be replaced this evening. Because he won’t. Michael will never be replaced. Just because he died doesn’t mean he stopped being her husband. She’ll just have two husbands. Barbara the bigamist. Are there any nice men in Poughkeepsie?
Jeanne looked embarrassed. Oh, Barbara. You know I am still married. I tell Molly I’m like Penelope from The Odyssey . When Paul gets back, I’ll be waiting .
Paul—ten years without sending so much as a postcard—is, for all intents and purposes, as gone as Michael is. The nuns taught The Odyssey in high school, and she remembers the story; Paul isn’t coming back and she’s willing to bet there are no suitors banging on Jeanne’s door like they were on Penelope’s, either. Poor Jeanne! Stuck with a husband who isn’t a husband. Probably everyone but Jeanne realized that Paul married her to get a green card—when they came out together to visit that one time, before Paul took off, he as much as told Michael so. He even made eyes at her, his own sister-in-law, when no one was looking.
You think he’s gone back to Canada? Although, of course, Paul didn’t go back to Canada. Why would he have married Jeanne for a green card and then gone back to Canada?
But Jeanne didn’t answer, and she understood suddenly: the way Jeanne deals with the failure of her marriage is not to think about Paul as flesh and blood, walking on earth, his wife and child forgotten. It’s easier to make a constellation out of her lost husband, a Greek myth, something abstract.
If that makes it easier for Jeanne, then fine. She’s certainly not one to argue with that. It’s hard, this life.
“We have an hour before we need to leave,” she says. “When Molly gets back, let her help herself in the kitchen. The ceremony won’t take long, but your inner clocks must be out of whack, what with the time difference.”
In the quiet of her bedroom, she gets Sissy’s stiff green dress from the closet.
“Don’t want to,” Sissy says, sitting on the bed, kicking the
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