Mother (7 page)

Claire rolled her eyes at Jason. He was holding back giggles.

“Bless these children that they may find the Path of Righteousness, lead them into the light of Your Eternal Love, and bless their unborn child, that he …” she paused. “Or
she
… will be a Lamb of the Lord and serve You well on earth as he … or
she
… shall in heaven.”

Claire shivered at the words.

Mother silenced. Claire sighed.
Finally!

“Deliver us from evil, Oh Lord.”

Oh, crap.
 

“Keep us from the grasp of Satan’s servants, wherever they may be lurking. We know that Lucifer wears many disguises, and we ask that You, in Your righteous almighty wisdom, steer us away from all of that which You do not condone.”
 

There was a long pause, and Jason spoke up. “I’m starv-”

Mother shot him a dirty look, then reclosed her eyes. “We ask this in Your holy name, Amen.” When at last she unclasped her hands and reached for the salt shaker, the sudden motion was startling. “Well,” said Mother. “I think the Lord won’t mind if we eat now.” She shook salt over her plate. Enough to banish demons.

Sitting next to Jason, with Mother in her usual position at the head of the table, Claire was half-surprised she allowed them to sit so close to her. She remembered the days when she and Tim were placed a good six feet down the table because Mother didn’t like to listen to her children chew. There’d been advantages to that; this close, it was clear that mother had dipped herself in a fresh layer of
Opium
, and Claire’s head was beginning to ache from the cloying stench. It added to her dizziness, bringing on small waves of nausea.

Claire almost told Mother she didn’t think she could bear the perfume, but now wasn’t the time. She was determined to give Mother a chance since the woman had tried so hard to impress her. She knew Mother’s kindness was just an act but held her tongue for Jason’s benefit. He’d figure it out soon enough.
 

“Well.” Mother looked at Jason. “What do you think of my cooking?”

Jason had taken a large bite of pasta and held his finger up while he chewed. After swallowing, he said, “It’s fantastic, Prissy.”

Mother beamed, then looked at Claire. “Are you going to eat, honey? You haven’t touched your manicotti.”

Claire gave her a weak smile and pushed the pasta around on her plate. “I’ll eat. I guess I’m just not that hungry yet.”

Jason smiled. “We ate too much at the grill, but given how good this is, I’ll find room no matter how full I am.” He took another big bite. “Why didn’t you tell me what a great cook your mom is, Claire?” He grinned at Mother, who radiated pride.

Claire knew damn well that the woman didn’t deserve any praise. She took a bite of manicotti.
Yep. Straight from Bartoli’s Deli.
 

While they ate, Mother sat there, poking at her meal and watching the two of them. It was nerve-wracking and Claire almost told her to quit staring.

“You should try some Alfredo, Prissy,” said Jason. “It’s fantastic.”

 
“I’m watching my figure. At my age, everything goes straight to my hips.”

Jason laughed. “Nonsense. Your figure’s great. You should at least enjoy your own cooking.”

Claire managed not to choke.

Mother laughed and waved the compliment away. “Here.” She picked up the dish of manicotti. “Have some more.” As she leaned forward to hand the manicotti to him her long silver and gold beaded necklace dipped deeply into the Alfredo bowl.
 

“Oh, dear.” Mother snatched it up and sucked the locket clean, then laved it with her tongue. The cheese sauce was gone in an instant. She picked up her napkin and dried the necklace, inspecting it for missed cheese. Satisfied, she tucked it back into her blouse. “This necklace,” she told Jason, “is very precious to me.”

“It’s- it’s lovely, Prissy,” Jason managed, as he dished manicotti onto his plate.

“Would you like more Alfredo, Jason?” Mother asked. “It looks like Carlene hasn’t been feeding you enough.”

 
Jason had the audacity to dimple up at her. “No, thank you, Prissy. After this, I’ll be so full I might pop.” His eyes went back to his meal as he lowered his head and continued eating.
 

“Very well,” said Mother. After a beat, she asked, “Do you know what you’re going to name the baby?”
 

Claire dropped her fork.
 

Jason cleared his throat. “We haven’t talked about it; we don’t even know the gender yet. We’ve barely found out we’re pregnant.”

Claire, chewing now-tasteless pasta, fought with herself over her mother’s question. She wanted to scream that the baby was none of her business, but she knew that was irrational; if anyone else had asked the question she wouldn’t have reacted that way.

“‘
We’re
pregnant’?” Mother said to Jason. “Oh, dear boy, I hear young men say that nowadays like they have any idea of what we women go through after you plant a baby in our bellies.” She chuckled. “It’s very nice of you, though.”

“If I could, I’d share all the physical problems with my wife.” He beamed at her.

Claire gave him a silent smile; she knew it was true.

“Well, you wouldn’t say that if you knew how bad those hemorrhoids hurt, would he darling?”

Claire’s face turned to fire and she couldn’t look at her mother. “I wouldn’t know,” she mumbled, then forked salad into her mouth.
 

“I’m sorry, Car-Claire. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Are they bad?”

“I have a little morning sickness in the afternoons. That’s all I know about, Mother.”

Mother looked at Jason again. “I had
terrible
hemorrhoids, Jason, when I was pregnant with Car-Claire. Just excruciating! They were so bad that I had to have Frankli- I mean Frederick, her daddy, put ointment on my bottom every night until she was born.” She winked at him.

Claire’s cheeks burned with humiliation and rage and
Jason looked a little purple himself. “Mother, please.”

“Claire, darling,” Mother said. “I’m so sorry. Did I embarrass you?”

“No, but …” She hesitated. “I mean, yes, Mother. I’m really not comfortable when you talk like that.”

Jason nodded. “Some of our friends are very … open about these things, and it always makes us both a little uncomfortable.” He smiled. “We’re pretty old-fashioned, I guess.”

Mother opened her mouth but was silenced by the doorbell, which chimed out
O Say Can You See?
 

Another thing that never changes.
 

Mother stood, dabbed her mouth with her napkin and fluttered toward the living room. “Comiiiing…” she crooned.

“The
national anthem
?” asked Jason.

Claire nodded. Mother invited someone inside and a moment later she reappeared with two women Claire recognized as Phyllis Stine and Aida Portendorfer, neighbors from down the street. She’d hoped it would have been Aunt Babs.

“Oh,
Carlene!”
cooed Phyllis, her hair as falsely platinum as it had been ten years ago. In a clank of plastic jewelry, she pushed a tray of wrapped cookies into Mother’s hands, and came at Claire, intent on a hug. “My, how you’ve grown up! You look so beautiful! You’re just glowing!”

Claire wished she could say the same for Phyllis. The woman still wore blue eye shadow up to her dyed black eyebrows, and looked like a washed up go-go girl with her white hoop earrings, matching white fingernails, pale lipstick, tight sundress under a white faux fur stole, and blue boots the same sickly shade as her makeup.

Claire stood, and Phyllis wrapped her in a bony hug.

Aida Portendorfer, who’d put on another twenty pounds since Claire had left, stood smiling. She’d let her hair go gray and was the embodiment of a sweet grandmother, with rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes. A pair of binoculars hung around her neck. Aida was the neighborhood gossip and Mother had always disapproved of her, but given the fake smiles and superficial tones, no one would have known.
Of course Mother disapproves of everyone.

“I hope you like the cookies, Carlene,” Phyllis said. “I baked them myself.”

Aida gave Claire a look that stated Phyllis did
not
bake the cookies. “We’re just so excited to have you back ... Claire. All of Morning Glory Circle has been abuzz with the good news! And you’re going to have a baby!” She came in for a hug, opening arms that were as big as Claire’s thighs.

“Hello, Aida,” said Claire.

“I’ve always loved that name - Claire,” said Aida. “It suits you. Did you have it legally changed?”

Claire nodded. “I did. The minute I turned eighteen.” She glanced at Mother, expecting to see anger, but to her surprise, there was nothing except pride as she clasped her hands and half-heartedly offered the neighbors some pasta.

“No thanks, Prissy,” said Aida, then turned back to Claire. “Have you had morning sickness or any strange cravings?”
 

“A few cravings. A little afternoon sickness. Lots of dizziness.”

Phyllis nodded vehemently, her plastic earrings bobbing. She looked like a dumbed-down Joan Rivers with bad taste. “Make sure your mother gives you saltines and tea. That will fix you right up.”

“And you must be Claire’s husband!” Aida moved toward Jason who stared with wide eyes at the chubby woman coming at him.
 

“Yes. Jason Holbrook. It’s nice to meet you.” He held out his hand. They shook and Phyllis pushed her way between them.

She gripped his hand and with her free one appeared to be feeling his biceps. “Such a handsome young man,” she said. “Isn’t he handsome, Aida? Such pretty blue eyes!”
 

Aida nodded. “I’m afraid we’ve caught them in the middle of dinner, Phyllis.”

“We should leave.” Phyllis glanced at Mother. “We thought you’d already eaten. You’re usually such an early bird.”

“I-” Mother began.

But Phyllis steamrolled on. “We just wanted to give your daughter a proper welcome to the neighborhood. And congratulate her.” She turned to Claire. “Have you thought of any names for your bundle of joy yet? Are you going to find out if it’s a boy or girl?”

Aida spoke up. “When Stan and I had Kelly and Raymond we didn’t know what they’d be. Even if we could have known, we wanted to be surprised, so we used yellow and green to decorate their rooms-”

Phyllis broke in. “Can’t go having a pink room for a boy, though I think blue would be fine for a girl these days.”
 

Mother cleared her throat and started herding the women toward the front door. “It’s too soon, they don’t know anything yet. They’ve been traveling all day and as you can imagine, in her condition, Claire is very tired. You can speak to her after she’s had some rest.”

“Bye, Claire, bye, Jason,” Phyllis and Aida cried from the living room.

“Goodbye,” Jason called. “Thanks for the cookies.”

Mother returned and before Claire could express her anger about the neighborhood knowing she was expecting, her mother blurted, “I’m so sorry, Claire. I didn’t mean to tell anyone about the baby. It slipped out. I’m so proud of you! I’m going to be a grandmother! You can forgive me, can’t you?”

Claire stared at her mother, wondering if she’d ever get used to hearing the woman apologize.
“Of course, I forgive you, Mother. You’re only human.”
Barely.
 

Mother smiled. “Good! Because I really want to take you shopping for baby things! I would just love to be a part of the baby’s life.” Her eyes welled with alligator tears. “I do hope you’ll consider Franklin for a name … if it’s a boy.”

Anger spiked. “Frederick’s my father. Not Franklin.”
 

Mother sat back down. “Oh, yes, of course, dear. That’s what I meant. They’re both fine men. Perhaps you could use them both. Franklin Frederick-”

Jason cleared his throat. “I’m not particularly fond of either name, to be honest, Prissy.”

“That’s right,” said Claire. “If we name the baby after anyone, it would be Jason’s father, Michael. If it’s a girl, we might name it for his mother, Sarah. Both were killed two years ago in a car accident and we were very fond of them.” She took satisfaction in Mother’s wounded expression. “They helped us out a lot in our early days together.” It felt good to twist the knife a little.

“Of course,” said Mother. “I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds.” She smiled. “I’m just so proud that I’m afraid I get a little too excited.” She looked from Claire to Jason. “You two must be exhausted. Let me wrap up some pasta for you to take upstairs - I’m sure you’ll be hungrier later, Claire. Remember, you must pray over
any
meal, even leftovers.” She smiled, her lips thin, like a snake’s. “Let’s meet at ten tomorrow morning and go shopping. Get your grocery list ready!”

“Did you see that?” asked Jason. “That Phyllis woman was totally feeling me up!” He gave Claire a grin. “I think she’s hot for me, sweetheart. You better keep an eye on her.”

“You think I should be jealous of a mummy?” Claire put the pan of pasta into the fridge. There was no way she was going to eat any tonight, not with the headache burgeoning behind her eyes.
 

“She is kind of scary looking. I kept wondering how she could even close her eyes with skin that tight.”

“She seemed especially impressed with your biceps.”

Jason reached for the tray of cookies, grabbed one, and made an exaggerated flexing motion with his arm. “Yep. With guns like these …”

Claire wrapped her arms around his waist, stood on tiptoes, and pecked him on the cheek. “You
are
pretty hunky.”

He took a bite of the cookie and made a face. “Tube cookies,” he said.

“Phyllis Stine isn’t the baking type. Neither is Mother.” She disengaged herself from her husband and began looking in the wooden cupboards that lined the wall above the sink. “You don’t really believe Mother made dinner herself tonight, do you?”

“She didn’t?”

Claire shook her head as she looked over the rows of canned beets, spinach, corn, and soups. “She bought it at Bartoli’s Deli.” She took a can of beets, turned it over, and saw that it was expired - by three years.
Just what I figured
. “Mother has never made fettuccine, let alone manicotti, in her life.” The corn was even older and she tossed the cans in the trash.