“True. But it was hard,” she said, nonplussed. “And every time we’ve spent a holiday apart, I’ve vowed to never do it again.”
“I understand. Maybe another time,” I said, sick to death of my sister’s games. I knew she couldn’t get Lucy out the door fast enough “Actually, I’m on deadline for this newest book and will be spending most of the holiday in front of my computer anyway,” she reconsidered quickly. “Maybe Lucy would be better off with you. I won’t be much fun. Did I tell you that I now have a Hollywood agent? He’s fantastic and knows everybody who’s somebody out there. He’s negotiating a contract with Disney.”
“That’s great. I’m sure your books will make terrific movies.”
Dorothy wrote excellent children’s books and had won several prestigious awards. She was simply a failure as a human being.
“Mother’s here,” my sister said. “She wants to have a word with you. Now listen, it was so good to talk to you. We just don’t do it enough. Make sure Lucy eats something besides salads, and I warn you that she’ll exercise until it drives you mad. I worry that she’s going to start looking masculine.”
Before I could say anything; my mother was on the line.
“Why can’t you come down here, Katie? It’s sunny and you should see the grapefruit.”
“I can’t do it, Mother. I’m really sorry.”
“And now Lucy won’t be here, either? Is that what I heard? What am I supposed to do, eat a turkey by myself?”
“Dorothy will be there.”
“What? Are you kidding? She’ll be with Fred. I can’t stand him.”
Dorothy had gotten divorced again last summer. I didn’t ask who Fred was.
“I think he’s Iranian or something. He’ll squeeze a penny until it screams and has hair in his ears. I know he’s not Catholic, and Dorothy never takes Lucy to church these days. You ask me, that child’s going to hell in a hand basket.”
“Mother, they can hear you.”
“No they can’t. I’m in the kitchen by myself staring at a sink full of dirty dishes that I just know Dorothy expects me to do while I’m here. It’s just like when she comes to my house, because she hasn’t done a thing about dinner and is hoping I’ll cook. Does she ever offer to bring anything? Does she care that I’m an old woman and practically a cripple? Maybe you can talk some sense into Lucy.”
“In what way is Lucy lacking sense?” I asked.
“She doesn’t have any friends except this one girl you have to wonder about. You should see Lucy’s bedroom. It looks like something out of a science fiction movie with all these computers and printers and pieces and parts. It’s not normal for a teenage girl to live inside her brain all the time like that and not get out with kids her own age. I worry about her just like I used to worry about you.”
“I turned out all right,” I said.
“Well, you spent far too much time with science books, Katie. You saw what it did to your marriage.”
“Mother, I’d like Lucy to fly here tomorrow, if possible. I’ll make the reservations from my end and take care of the ticket. Make sure she packs her warmest clothes.
Anything she doesn’t have, such as a winter coat, we can find here.”
“She could probably borrow your clothes. When was the last time you saw her? Last Christmas?”
“I guess it was that long ago.”
“Well, let me tell you. She’s gotten bosoms since then. And the way she dresses? And did she bother to ask her grandmother’s advice before cutting off her beautiful hair? No. Why should she bother telling me that-”
“I’ve got to call the airlines.”
“I wish you were coming here. We could all be together.”
Her voice was getting funny. My mother was about to cry.
“I wish I could, too,” I said.
Late Sunday morning I drove to the airport along dark, wet roads running through a dazzling world of glass. Ice loosened by the sun slipped from telephone lines, roofs, and trees, shattering to the ground like crystal missiles dropped from the sky. The weather report called for another storm, and I was deeply pleased, despite the inconvenience. I wanted quiet time in front of, the fire with my niece. Lucy was growing up.