I ambled delicately to the small kitchen table, toting the teas on a warped pine butler's tray; Elli at my heels with a box of ginger snaps. The mornings' canary sun was shifting and got caught in a tarnished orange corner of the western sky. Sliding myself into a worn chair; its thick wood made smooth by its squatters, I peered at the burnt expanse that settled in the distance. Its maple joints tensed and creaked at my presence like a braided rope bridge unsure of its ability to bear the passer's weight; as unclear as I was that I could carry the burden of the unknown, and stressed that I could not judge its mass.
There I sat, with the plague-free crowd who were, for the most part, unaware of the shifting sun; from yellow to rust. The oxidation that was in progress. They were almost ethereal in their innocence, like they weren't even there; innocuous. Someone had injected these effervesent little girls into a stagnant pool and they didn't even know it. But, I knew better than that. I knew better than to envy them. Their feelings ran just as deep, relative to the type of reservoir; their stream lapped the river stones smooth and my ocean stirred boulders to grain. We had each suffered our own type of disintegration at the hand of some former beauty.
I pulled myself out of myself with that observation and revived what was left of selflessness. Still, the mystery of the letter scratched sand-like at the sides of my oyster shell, but I owed it to them to at least act like a pearl for a little while. We sipped our tea and talked about the second grade, savoring the sugary time together. When the cookies reached sickening and our cups were empty, I asked the girls to collect the piles of gear left at the front door and managed a minute alone while they got lost in the task with play. With their attention off of me, I fled for the old rotary wall- phone and dialed Lucy's number; mouthing "Pick Up" after each tinny pause, fearing little ears would descend soon upon my tethered chatter.
She answered after nearly twenty noisy rings. "Luce, whattayadoin tonight?" I asked as one word.
"Gwen, is it you? What, what do you mean" she said, " what's going on?"
"It's me, I need a huge favor, another one. I swear I'll owe you big time," I bargained, "can you take the girls tonight?"
"Take them?" she asked "where do you want me to take them, and what about the baby and Matthew?"
"Matthew's sixteen, Luce" I reminded her, " he has plans with his friends, and Riley's hardly a 'baby', he's in preschool, now."
"When you say 'now,' you mean you haven't picked him up yet?" she questioned.
"No, not yet" I said, fearing I was losing her "but, the daycare is literally on my corner. You could just get him..."
"When I pick up the girls?" she interupted.
"Lucy, if you're busy, just say no, but if you could you know I'll love you forever," I pleaded.
"Gwen, you know I love ALL of those 'babies' like my own, if I had any," she added, "I AM their favorite aunt, but you better tell me what's going on with you tomorrow!" She sounded like my mother, now.
"Oh, Luce, I will. Thank you so much, I just need some time to get some things straight, and I promised them something special for their first day of school..."
"And you forgot, since you were working so hard at the office all day, right?" she interuppted again with a benign jab, "Don't worry, Gwenny, I'll take them for pizza and rent a movie. There's one I've been wanting a good 'kid-excuse' to be caught borrowing."
"So, no date tonight, huh?" I teased, hoping to lighten any tension.
"Funny, girl, watch it now, or I'll withdraw my plea," she said in her best lawyer voice, "I'll see you in about half an hour, ok?"
"Alright, Luce, I'll have everyone ready, and Riley will have all he needs in his bag. I can't tell you what it means to have a friend like you" I said.
"Need me to take them to school in the morning?" she asked.
"Oh, Luce, could you?" I wondered.
"Have all their stuff packed," she said with the voice of an angel, and as if that weren't enough, she added, "I don't want to see you in the morning at the firm. In fact, we have nothing the next couple days, really. Take the time you need, Gwen. You've had it rough this last year. Don't worry about your paycheck, either. My gift to you," she said.
"Lucy, I could never 'out-friend' you," I said , holding back tears.
"You've done it before," she reminded me, then hung up the phone.
|
|
| Views: 155
Email This to a Friend 
