Read Online The Next Queen of Heaven-SA by Gregory Maguire - Free Book Online
Authors: Gregory Maguire
Tags: Fiction, General, Humorous, Fantasy, Action & Adventure, New York (State), City and Town Life, Teenagers, Mothers and daughters, Eccentrics and eccentricities, City and Town Life - New York (State)
Ads: Link
silence.”
She kept silence then. There was nothing to do but look at the town as they drove through. Concentrate on it, because it was hard to figure out what kind of thing was sitting there in the front seat where their mother should be.
Thebes wasn’t a place that the Scales kids had ever given much thought to. Except for the occasional shopping trip to Syracuse or Watertown, and a tour of Boston once, Thebes was all they knew other than TV. But things aged in Thebes faster than on TV. More graffiti on the overpasses, more houses that had run out of money before the siding had gotten all the way around.
“Repair ye the way of the Lord,” murmured Mrs. Scales, pointing at a road crew from the highway department drinking from Thermoses. They were taking a break from repaving the northbound lanes of 1-81.
Tabitha’s eyes veered over to the road crew, checking them out. Two studly, three dudly.
Mrs. Leontina Scales hit the dashboard with her hand. “Odd, odd, why hast Thou forsaken me?” she cried.
“Momster.” Hogan leaned forward from the backseat. “Take a chill pill. What’s the matter? You’re going home.”
She closed her eyes and put her hands up to her face. “Ow, the serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field,” she muttered. Tabitha glanced in the rearview mirror. After his demonstration of concern, Hogan was sinking back into his doldrums. He had pulled a small drum of dental floss from his shirt pocket and was twining a green strand around his fingers.
Maybe he was going to try to strangle Mom from behind. He’d have to yank pretty hard.
“Look,” said Tabitha, trying to be a TV daughter, “the colors are really late this year.
Look, Mom, the reds over there behind Maxy’s Hardware. You don’t see reds like that often, even on cable.” Mrs. Scales didn’t look up.
Maybe, thought Tabitha, she’ll be better when she gets home. Her things around her. Her friends to come calling. But what friends would those be? Hogan was a handful and so, Tabitha knew, was she, and her mother hadn’t had much in the way of friends since divorcing her third husband, Kirk’s dad. Too many wives scared she’d steal their husbands? Too many husbands scared they’d be stolen? Who knew? Maybe Tabitha could get Kirk to drop by Cliffs of Zion and put out a call for help. People must have heard what had happened. Pastor Huyck, that terminally perky sack of wind, must be spreading the word.
Surely her mother would get better. But for now she looked a mess. Her hair was all wrong, for one thing. Some fool had combed it up and you could see the thinning patches. Well, Tabitha wasn’t going to start grooming her mother. It was hard enough to get a half hour in the bathroom for herself every morning, what with Kirk busy plucking every hair in his nostrils and who knew where else, for that matter.
Tabitha rolled her eyes when she pulled up in the driveway. Kirk had made a sign. It was hung over the front door and was hand lettered to say WELCOME HOME!! Kirk was waiting by the door with his best Bride of Christ expression on.
Mrs. Scales seemed to be making an effort to pull herself together. She got out of the car without comment. She stopped a few steps short of the aluminum storm door that was still shy of a lower panel of glass since the time, three years ago, that Hogan had drop-kicked the old cat through it. She looked up at her youngest son. Her face seemed to screw in and out as if she was struggling for depth of field. “A sight for sore eyes, Captain Kirky,” she managed.
“Peace to all who enter here,” said Kirk, giving the Vulcan sign for something obscure and, thought Tabitha wistfully, with any luck obscene. “Seek and ye shall find rest.”
“Am right I will,” said Mrs. Scales.
“Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home,” said Kirk.
“Can the crap and let us through,” said Tabitha.
Kirk steered Mrs. Scales into the living room and Tabitha
She kept silence then. There was nothing to do but look at the town as they drove through. Concentrate on it, because it was hard to figure out what kind of thing was sitting there in the front seat where their mother should be.
Thebes wasn’t a place that the Scales kids had ever given much thought to. Except for the occasional shopping trip to Syracuse or Watertown, and a tour of Boston once, Thebes was all they knew other than TV. But things aged in Thebes faster than on TV. More graffiti on the overpasses, more houses that had run out of money before the siding had gotten all the way around.
“Repair ye the way of the Lord,” murmured Mrs. Scales, pointing at a road crew from the highway department drinking from Thermoses. They were taking a break from repaving the northbound lanes of 1-81.
Tabitha’s eyes veered over to the road crew, checking them out. Two studly, three dudly.
Mrs. Leontina Scales hit the dashboard with her hand. “Odd, odd, why hast Thou forsaken me?” she cried.
“Momster.” Hogan leaned forward from the backseat. “Take a chill pill. What’s the matter? You’re going home.”
She closed her eyes and put her hands up to her face. “Ow, the serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field,” she muttered. Tabitha glanced in the rearview mirror. After his demonstration of concern, Hogan was sinking back into his doldrums. He had pulled a small drum of dental floss from his shirt pocket and was twining a green strand around his fingers.
Maybe he was going to try to strangle Mom from behind. He’d have to yank pretty hard.
“Look,” said Tabitha, trying to be a TV daughter, “the colors are really late this year.
Look, Mom, the reds over there behind Maxy’s Hardware. You don’t see reds like that often, even on cable.” Mrs. Scales didn’t look up.
Maybe, thought Tabitha, she’ll be better when she gets home. Her things around her. Her friends to come calling. But what friends would those be? Hogan was a handful and so, Tabitha knew, was she, and her mother hadn’t had much in the way of friends since divorcing her third husband, Kirk’s dad. Too many wives scared she’d steal their husbands? Too many husbands scared they’d be stolen? Who knew? Maybe Tabitha could get Kirk to drop by Cliffs of Zion and put out a call for help. People must have heard what had happened. Pastor Huyck, that terminally perky sack of wind, must be spreading the word.
Surely her mother would get better. But for now she looked a mess. Her hair was all wrong, for one thing. Some fool had combed it up and you could see the thinning patches. Well, Tabitha wasn’t going to start grooming her mother. It was hard enough to get a half hour in the bathroom for herself every morning, what with Kirk busy plucking every hair in his nostrils and who knew where else, for that matter.
Tabitha rolled her eyes when she pulled up in the driveway. Kirk had made a sign. It was hung over the front door and was hand lettered to say WELCOME HOME!! Kirk was waiting by the door with his best Bride of Christ expression on.
Mrs. Scales seemed to be making an effort to pull herself together. She got out of the car without comment. She stopped a few steps short of the aluminum storm door that was still shy of a lower panel of glass since the time, three years ago, that Hogan had drop-kicked the old cat through it. She looked up at her youngest son. Her face seemed to screw in and out as if she was struggling for depth of field. “A sight for sore eyes, Captain Kirky,” she managed.
“Peace to all who enter here,” said Kirk, giving the Vulcan sign for something obscure and, thought Tabitha wistfully, with any luck obscene. “Seek and ye shall find rest.”
“Am right I will,” said Mrs. Scales.
“Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home,” said Kirk.
“Can the crap and let us through,” said Tabitha.
Kirk steered Mrs. Scales into the living room and Tabitha
Similar Books
