Read Online The Color of Water in July by Nora Carroll - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nora Carroll
Ads: Link
Janes that had to be buttoned with a little metal hook.
Jess put aside the pictures of herself and looked at the pictures of her mother. There were few pictures of Margaret, and in most she seemed a little out of focus: Here she was on her tricycle. Here she was swinging on the hammock. In this one, she was twirling on the lawn; in another, she was running away and laughing, looking over her shoulder. Jess could just imagine that Mamie would have had little patience for that, could imagine her saying: Margaret, I won’t take your picture at all if you won’t stand still . Jess knew Margaret had never minded Mamie very well. She had always wondered how her mother had dared to defy her grandmother.
Most of the pictures showed Mamie’s family in their prime. There were stiff formal portraits of Mamie’s parents. Mrs. Ada Tretheway dressed in heavy brocades that only exaggerated her ample bosom. Mr. Harris Tretheway had a long, thin face and bright, clear eyes—looked more like Lila than Mamie. Even though Mamie’s father died when she was in her teens, Mr. Tretheway had left enough money to keep Mamie throughout her life, even paying Margaret’s way through expensive private schools and colleges. But his death had taken an emotional toll on the family. After he died, his wife took ill, then, a few years later, Mamie’s sister drowned. The family that had once joyously filled the rooms of the large cottage had shrunk down. During all the summers that Jess had spent with Mamie, the cottage had always seemed cavernous and lonely, and Jess imagined that her mother’s childhood must have been much the same.
Jess studied the images of Lila. In a picture with her husband, they appeared the image of 1920s sophistication, both in light-colored golfing clothes; both fair, they looked like pictures she had seen of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. Jess studied the picture of the young fair-haired man, his foot resting on the running board of a two-seater roadster. In brown, spidery script on the white border was written the name Chapin Flagg . Though Mamie never talked about Lila, Jess had heard her mention Chapin Flagg from time to time when talking to her old friend May Lewis. Jess had always thought it an odd name. She had understood, without really being told, that Chapin Flagg was somehow a bad fellow. If it hadn’t been for that Chapin Flagg, Jess had heard her grandmother say more than once. She had no idea what he might have done, or what had ever become of him, but she had understood that it was somehow his fault that Lila had drowned.
There was one picture in particular that really grabbed Jess. It showed the two sisters, Mamie and Lila, wearing woolen bathing suits that came down to their knees, with towels wrapped around their heads and bulky wool fisherman’s sweaters pulled around their shoulders. The caption read: Mamie and Lila, setting out to swim across Pine Lake . Mamie looked radiant, her smile wide and full of life, some of her wild curly hair escaping from under the turban, somehow making the photo look more modern, more lifelike. Lila, standing next to her, eerily pale, even in the photo, had a smile on her face too, but a look in her eye, so vacant, so haunted, that she seemed to see herself drowning already, sliding under the blue water.
After that, there were no more pictures of Lila or Mamie. In fact, it was the last photo in that album.
Jess realized that Russ was looking over her shoulder.
“We can use those.”
Jess looked up at him, confused.
“They’ll look good in the pictures. I like that old-album look in this kind of a setting. It helps evoke the twenties thing we’re going for. You can unload them after that if you want.”
For a second, Jess felt stunned. This was her family, her life history. Russ wanted to sell them? Then, she tried to imagine the albums, dusty, taking up space in her tiny apartment. Life with Margaret had taught her to be disciplined about what she saved and
Jess put aside the pictures of herself and looked at the pictures of her mother. There were few pictures of Margaret, and in most she seemed a little out of focus: Here she was on her tricycle. Here she was swinging on the hammock. In this one, she was twirling on the lawn; in another, she was running away and laughing, looking over her shoulder. Jess could just imagine that Mamie would have had little patience for that, could imagine her saying: Margaret, I won’t take your picture at all if you won’t stand still . Jess knew Margaret had never minded Mamie very well. She had always wondered how her mother had dared to defy her grandmother.
Most of the pictures showed Mamie’s family in their prime. There were stiff formal portraits of Mamie’s parents. Mrs. Ada Tretheway dressed in heavy brocades that only exaggerated her ample bosom. Mr. Harris Tretheway had a long, thin face and bright, clear eyes—looked more like Lila than Mamie. Even though Mamie’s father died when she was in her teens, Mr. Tretheway had left enough money to keep Mamie throughout her life, even paying Margaret’s way through expensive private schools and colleges. But his death had taken an emotional toll on the family. After he died, his wife took ill, then, a few years later, Mamie’s sister drowned. The family that had once joyously filled the rooms of the large cottage had shrunk down. During all the summers that Jess had spent with Mamie, the cottage had always seemed cavernous and lonely, and Jess imagined that her mother’s childhood must have been much the same.
Jess studied the images of Lila. In a picture with her husband, they appeared the image of 1920s sophistication, both in light-colored golfing clothes; both fair, they looked like pictures she had seen of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. Jess studied the picture of the young fair-haired man, his foot resting on the running board of a two-seater roadster. In brown, spidery script on the white border was written the name Chapin Flagg . Though Mamie never talked about Lila, Jess had heard her mention Chapin Flagg from time to time when talking to her old friend May Lewis. Jess had always thought it an odd name. She had understood, without really being told, that Chapin Flagg was somehow a bad fellow. If it hadn’t been for that Chapin Flagg, Jess had heard her grandmother say more than once. She had no idea what he might have done, or what had ever become of him, but she had understood that it was somehow his fault that Lila had drowned.
There was one picture in particular that really grabbed Jess. It showed the two sisters, Mamie and Lila, wearing woolen bathing suits that came down to their knees, with towels wrapped around their heads and bulky wool fisherman’s sweaters pulled around their shoulders. The caption read: Mamie and Lila, setting out to swim across Pine Lake . Mamie looked radiant, her smile wide and full of life, some of her wild curly hair escaping from under the turban, somehow making the photo look more modern, more lifelike. Lila, standing next to her, eerily pale, even in the photo, had a smile on her face too, but a look in her eye, so vacant, so haunted, that she seemed to see herself drowning already, sliding under the blue water.
After that, there were no more pictures of Lila or Mamie. In fact, it was the last photo in that album.
Jess realized that Russ was looking over her shoulder.
“We can use those.”
Jess looked up at him, confused.
“They’ll look good in the pictures. I like that old-album look in this kind of a setting. It helps evoke the twenties thing we’re going for. You can unload them after that if you want.”
For a second, Jess felt stunned. This was her family, her life history. Russ wanted to sell them? Then, she tried to imagine the albums, dusty, taking up space in her tiny apartment. Life with Margaret had taught her to be disciplined about what she saved and
Similar Books
