been Rosie’s favorite person, more beloved to her in some ways than her own exceedingly difficult children. Melanie looked almost exactly as Emma had looked when she was a teenager; sometimes the mere sight of Melanie caused sorrow to well up in Rosie, forcing her to gulp and blow her nose and wash perfectly clean dishes, until it subsided.
She knew quite well that she and Aurora had done their best by Emma’s children; she suspected that their best was a good deal better than many other people’s best—and yet she also knew that it hadn’t been enough. Tommy and Teddy were cripples, in their different ways, and Melanie was sad.
Still, sad was different from broken, she reflected. Melanie wasn’t broken. She would soon be having a baby, and a nice little fat baby might make a huge difference in Melanie’s life.
“We better take dinner upstairs,” she said, remembering her duty. “Your granny and the General need to eat on time. It’s when they get too hungry that they have their biggest fights.”
Just as she said it, Aurora walked into the kitchen. Her eyes immediately lit on Melanie’s cigarette.
“Melly, I do wish you’d not smoke,” she said. “It can’t be good for little Andy.”
Melanie gave Rosie a guilty look and stubbed out the cigarette.
“I was nervous,” she said. “Do I really have to name him Andy if he’s a boy?”
“No, dear, of course not, you can name him Plato or Aristotle, if you prefer,” Aurora said, hugging her sad-lookinggranddaughter. “It’s just that I’ve always wanted an Andy in my life, and none has ever come my way.”
Actually, Melanie loved the name—she just wished she had thought of it instead of her grandmother. Her grandmother was always taking over—it left very little for the rest of them to do.
“I’ve been dreaming of twins lately,” Rosie commented. “It might be twins. Wouldn’t that be fun, having twins running around the house?”
“Or it might just be a girl,” Melanie said. “If it’s a girl I want to name her after Mom.”
“Oh,” Aurora said. She had been lifting the gumbo off the stove—the thought of Emma coming round again threw her off so much that she almost dropped the pot. Rosie took it just in time.
“Don’t you like that, Granny?” Melanie asked. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Yes, dear,” Aurora said, but in a very different voice from that she would have hoped to project. The thought that she might soon have a great-granddaughter bearing the name of her daughter jerked at her heart; she was afraid to say more for fear that what would come out would be the voice of an old woman.
“Oh, well, I like to be surprised, myself,” Rosie said. Aurora’s moment of shock had not been lost on her. “I’d take an Andy or an Emma, either one.”
“Of course, so would I,” Aurora said, recovering. “But that’s a very nice thought, Melly—appropriate, too. I think we should adopt it. If a girl emerges, we’ll name her Emma.”
“How’s the General?” Melanie asked, getting up to help carry the dinner.
“Very quarrelsome, as usual,” Aurora said. “Could you carry the gumbo? You’re the youngest and strongest. Rosie and I will hobble along with the rest.”
“Sure, do you have a Pepsi?” Melanie asked, as Rosie began to cut the bread.
6
After dinner, Rosie and Melanie hung around for a while, playing dominoes with the General over the din of CNN. Encouraged by Rosie, the General had become a news junkie too. Following the news with Rosie allowed him to demonstrate his superior knowledge of world affairs—superior not merely to Rosie’s but also to that of a long parade of reporters and analysts who pontificated night after night about things the General felt he understood far better than they did.
“Yes, the war clouds are gathering,” he said, after consuming a nice chunk of walnut cake. “Russia’s going to go for sure, and I think China might go.”
“Go where, Hector?” Aurora
She knew quite well that she and Aurora had done their best by Emma’s children; she suspected that their best was a good deal better than many other people’s best—and yet she also knew that it hadn’t been enough. Tommy and Teddy were cripples, in their different ways, and Melanie was sad.
Still, sad was different from broken, she reflected. Melanie wasn’t broken. She would soon be having a baby, and a nice little fat baby might make a huge difference in Melanie’s life.
“We better take dinner upstairs,” she said, remembering her duty. “Your granny and the General need to eat on time. It’s when they get too hungry that they have their biggest fights.”
Just as she said it, Aurora walked into the kitchen. Her eyes immediately lit on Melanie’s cigarette.
“Melly, I do wish you’d not smoke,” she said. “It can’t be good for little Andy.”
Melanie gave Rosie a guilty look and stubbed out the cigarette.
“I was nervous,” she said. “Do I really have to name him Andy if he’s a boy?”
“No, dear, of course not, you can name him Plato or Aristotle, if you prefer,” Aurora said, hugging her sad-lookinggranddaughter. “It’s just that I’ve always wanted an Andy in my life, and none has ever come my way.”
Actually, Melanie loved the name—she just wished she had thought of it instead of her grandmother. Her grandmother was always taking over—it left very little for the rest of them to do.
“I’ve been dreaming of twins lately,” Rosie commented. “It might be twins. Wouldn’t that be fun, having twins running around the house?”
“Or it might just be a girl,” Melanie said. “If it’s a girl I want to name her after Mom.”
“Oh,” Aurora said. She had been lifting the gumbo off the stove—the thought of Emma coming round again threw her off so much that she almost dropped the pot. Rosie took it just in time.
“Don’t you like that, Granny?” Melanie asked. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Yes, dear,” Aurora said, but in a very different voice from that she would have hoped to project. The thought that she might soon have a great-granddaughter bearing the name of her daughter jerked at her heart; she was afraid to say more for fear that what would come out would be the voice of an old woman.
“Oh, well, I like to be surprised, myself,” Rosie said. Aurora’s moment of shock had not been lost on her. “I’d take an Andy or an Emma, either one.”
“Of course, so would I,” Aurora said, recovering. “But that’s a very nice thought, Melly—appropriate, too. I think we should adopt it. If a girl emerges, we’ll name her Emma.”
“How’s the General?” Melanie asked, getting up to help carry the dinner.
“Very quarrelsome, as usual,” Aurora said. “Could you carry the gumbo? You’re the youngest and strongest. Rosie and I will hobble along with the rest.”
“Sure, do you have a Pepsi?” Melanie asked, as Rosie began to cut the bread.
6
After dinner, Rosie and Melanie hung around for a while, playing dominoes with the General over the din of CNN. Encouraged by Rosie, the General had become a news junkie too. Following the news with Rosie allowed him to demonstrate his superior knowledge of world affairs—superior not merely to Rosie’s but also to that of a long parade of reporters and analysts who pontificated night after night about things the General felt he understood far better than they did.
“Yes, the war clouds are gathering,” he said, after consuming a nice chunk of walnut cake. “Russia’s going to go for sure, and I think China might go.”
“Go where, Hector?” Aurora
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