Read Online The Last Time I Saw You by Elizabeth Berg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Berg
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small, but they’ll turn out to mean more than you know.”
Dorothy’s voice has thickened; there is a sizable lump in her throat. Now look what she has just said! What is she, Dr. Phil? Or whoever? She wishes someone had told her the things about marriage she just told her daughter. Her husband might still be with her instead of with Amphibian Face. It comes to her all at once the lack of generosity she showed her husband all the years they were together. The lack of simple kindness. The way she blamed him for everything.
“Where did you read that?” Hilly says. “I might buy the book.”
“Oh, here and there,” Dorothy says. “And of course I’ve had a little experience in learning what not to do. Not only in marriage, either.” She inspects the tops of her knees. She stares intently at them as though trying to locate a tiny thing she just felt crawling on them.
Hilly speaks in a small voice, stripped of arrogance or defense. “So… do you think I’ll be okay, then?”
Now Dorothy’s heart warms and opens, and she turns to face her daughter. “Oh, sweetie, I think you’ll be just fine. I think you’ll be great. I think the two of you will have a wonderful marriage. All brides are nervous wrecks in the weeks before their marriage. It’s good luck!” She doubts that this is true, really, but what the heck.
Hilly reaches over to hug her mother, and Dorothy hugs her back, and there, that’s how a hug should be given.
“Let’s see that outfit,” Hilly says, standing and reaching out a hand to help pull her mother up.
“I don’t know,” Dorothy says. “Now we’ve had this emotional exchange, and maybe you won’t quite tell me the truth. You’ll think you have to spare my feelings.”
“You know me; I’ll tell you the truth,” Hilly says, and so Dorothy gets up and goes into the bathroom and changes into her outfit, complete with beauty mark that she draws in above her lip. She talks to Hilly about Pete Decker through the closed door, how handsome he was, how popular, what a great car he had, how he’d seemed pretty interested in her at one point.
“So I want to just knock him out,” Dorothy says. “I just want one more chance with him. And the first time he sees me needs to be really memorable.” She opens the door. “Ta dah!”
Hilly widens her eyes and bites at her bottom lip. Nods.
“See?” Dorothy says. “You hate it but you won’t say so.”
“I don’t hate it,” Hilly says. “I think you should wear the blouse with jeans for the breakfast. But for Saturday night, may I make a suggestion? I saw a Stella McCartney the other day that would look terrific on you. Cobalt blue. You look really good in blue. And you’ve lost more weight, you’d look fabulous in it, you’d look absolutely cachectic.”
“Oh, honey,” Dorothy says. “ Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Hilly points to her own upper lip. “You’ve got something on your lip, right here.”
“That’s my beauty mark. I drew it in. I’m going to wear it to the reunion. Kind of fun.”
“Oh.”
“No?”
“It’s your party, Ma.”
“Okay, no.” Dorothy rubs it off. But she will wear it at the reunion. Her daughter doesn’t know everything. Beauty marks aren’t from her time.
Hours later, Dorothy is in her bathrobe and seated on her sofa in front of the television, waiting for her friends to call. She’s put egg white on her face—she’s going to use a different kind of facial every night before the reunion, and her hairdresser told her raw egg whites work wonders. “It feels like a big glob of snot when you first put it on,” she told Dorothy, “but then it tightens your skin like you wouldn’t believe, and it gives it a wonderful glow.” The egg has indeed begun to tighten her skin—she just saw herself in the mirror and she looks like she used to when she would pull a nylon down over her face for Halloween.
The phone rings, and Dorothy answers by saying, “Hi, it’s Candy
Dorothy’s voice has thickened; there is a sizable lump in her throat. Now look what she has just said! What is she, Dr. Phil? Or whoever? She wishes someone had told her the things about marriage she just told her daughter. Her husband might still be with her instead of with Amphibian Face. It comes to her all at once the lack of generosity she showed her husband all the years they were together. The lack of simple kindness. The way she blamed him for everything.
“Where did you read that?” Hilly says. “I might buy the book.”
“Oh, here and there,” Dorothy says. “And of course I’ve had a little experience in learning what not to do. Not only in marriage, either.” She inspects the tops of her knees. She stares intently at them as though trying to locate a tiny thing she just felt crawling on them.
Hilly speaks in a small voice, stripped of arrogance or defense. “So… do you think I’ll be okay, then?”
Now Dorothy’s heart warms and opens, and she turns to face her daughter. “Oh, sweetie, I think you’ll be just fine. I think you’ll be great. I think the two of you will have a wonderful marriage. All brides are nervous wrecks in the weeks before their marriage. It’s good luck!” She doubts that this is true, really, but what the heck.
Hilly reaches over to hug her mother, and Dorothy hugs her back, and there, that’s how a hug should be given.
“Let’s see that outfit,” Hilly says, standing and reaching out a hand to help pull her mother up.
“I don’t know,” Dorothy says. “Now we’ve had this emotional exchange, and maybe you won’t quite tell me the truth. You’ll think you have to spare my feelings.”
“You know me; I’ll tell you the truth,” Hilly says, and so Dorothy gets up and goes into the bathroom and changes into her outfit, complete with beauty mark that she draws in above her lip. She talks to Hilly about Pete Decker through the closed door, how handsome he was, how popular, what a great car he had, how he’d seemed pretty interested in her at one point.
“So I want to just knock him out,” Dorothy says. “I just want one more chance with him. And the first time he sees me needs to be really memorable.” She opens the door. “Ta dah!”
Hilly widens her eyes and bites at her bottom lip. Nods.
“See?” Dorothy says. “You hate it but you won’t say so.”
“I don’t hate it,” Hilly says. “I think you should wear the blouse with jeans for the breakfast. But for Saturday night, may I make a suggestion? I saw a Stella McCartney the other day that would look terrific on you. Cobalt blue. You look really good in blue. And you’ve lost more weight, you’d look fabulous in it, you’d look absolutely cachectic.”
“Oh, honey,” Dorothy says. “ Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Hilly points to her own upper lip. “You’ve got something on your lip, right here.”
“That’s my beauty mark. I drew it in. I’m going to wear it to the reunion. Kind of fun.”
“Oh.”
“No?”
“It’s your party, Ma.”
“Okay, no.” Dorothy rubs it off. But she will wear it at the reunion. Her daughter doesn’t know everything. Beauty marks aren’t from her time.
Hours later, Dorothy is in her bathrobe and seated on her sofa in front of the television, waiting for her friends to call. She’s put egg white on her face—she’s going to use a different kind of facial every night before the reunion, and her hairdresser told her raw egg whites work wonders. “It feels like a big glob of snot when you first put it on,” she told Dorothy, “but then it tightens your skin like you wouldn’t believe, and it gives it a wonderful glow.” The egg has indeed begun to tighten her skin—she just saw herself in the mirror and she looks like she used to when she would pull a nylon down over her face for Halloween.
The phone rings, and Dorothy answers by saying, “Hi, it’s Candy
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