The Truth about Mary Rose (12 page)

Manny went on out through the door, and you could hear him lifting the garbage can lid, and dropping the bag into the can.

“I’ll bring the coffee in,” I told Ray.

“OK, and then why don’t you come back, and give me a hand. These two jokers are so busy yakking, they’re no help at all.”

“How can you say that?” Philip asked. “I did all the pots.”

“Did what to all the pots?” Ray muttered.

Manny came back into the kitchen. He was talking even before he came through the door. “I may have said that for
me
school was a necessity, but I never made a blanket prescription for the whole world like you said I said.”

“See what I mean?” Ray said.

I carried the coffee into the dining room, and poured some coffee for my grandmother and my father. Uncle Stanley and my mother didn’t want any more.

Pam was sitting at the table looking unhappy. You could see she was busy thinking her own thoughts, and wasn’t listening to what the rest were talking about.

“She doesn’t mind my going,” Pam said, “because she’s got the baby. Since
he
was born she doesn’t care what I do or where I go.”

“But, Pam,” I said, “that’s great, and we’ve got four whole days.”

“I know, I know,” she said, “but she never would have let me go like that before.”

Aunt Claudia came back into the room. She was smiling. My grandmother said, “Is the baby sleeping?”

“Uh, huh.”

“He’s some baby!” said my grandmother. “He’s one of a kind.”

She and my Aunt Claudia even smiled at each other. My Aunt Claudia started saying how the baby was eating so much, she didn’t even know if it was good for him to eat so much.

Pam got up from the table and walked off into the kitchen.

She’s still jealous, I thought. Jealous of the baby. Aunt Claudia kept right on talking about what a great eater the baby was, and then when she finished, Uncle Stanley began talking about what a great sleeper he was. “Not even a month old,” said my Uncle Stanley, “and he sleeps through the night.” He looked around the table and never noticed that Pam had left.

Even he doesn’t notice it. Just like thirty years ago, his father didn’t see it either. My grandmother was smiling at Uncle Stanley. Or his mother. Pam is alone in it, I thought. Just like Mary Rose. My Mary Rose. All alone in being jealous and unhappy and desperate. This rotten feeling inside me pushed in all directions, and nearly made my ears pop. I jumped up from the table and ran after her into the kitchen.

Manny and Philip were leaning against the refrigerator, arguing, and Ray was still washing dishes at the sink. Pam was helping him. She was drying the dishes and laughing.

I stood in the doorway, half in the kitchen, and half in the dining room and listened. I could hear the water running in the sink, and the sound of each dish as Pam dried it, and put it on the kitchen table. Ray was speaking very low, and Pam was laughing all the time he was speaking.

“What do
you
know,” Philip was saying to Manny, “about anything!”

Nobody noticed me. In the dining room, my grandmother was talking, and the others were drinking coffee or eating pie. There was only her voice and the sounds of spoons in cups or forks on plates.

I was standing right in the middle of it all, listening to them, and nobody noticed me. Everybody was busy talking or laughing or arguing. A few minutes ago Pam was jealous and miserable, and now she was laughing. I had listened to her when she was jealous, and I felt bad. Now I was listening to her laugh, and I felt good. Thirty years ago when Mary Rose was jealous and miserable, weren’t there times when she laughed too?

My Aunt Claudia pushed away her plate, and stood up. Everybody else was looking at my grandmother.

“What did I say?” said my grandmother.

I told her. “You said that Uncle Stanley looked tired, and that somebody should see to it that he eats regular meals, gets plenty of rest, and shouldn’t have any aggravation when he comes home tired from work.”

“Mary Rose!”
my mother said.

“Did I say that?” my grandmother said, but my father started to laugh, and then Uncle Stanley, and finally Aunt Claudia. She sat down again.

“Mary Rose,” my grandmother called, putting out her arm. I came over and sat down next to her, and she pulled my head down on her shoulder and kissed me. “She’s got some pair of ears, this girl,” said my grandmother.

“Yes, she does,” my mother said, looking worried.

But there was nothing to worry about now. This time I had listened to
everything,
so I wasn’t feeling bad. And I wasn’t hurting for anybody. Not for Pam or for my grandmother or for Mary Rose.

For my nieces Susie, Carol and Amy

Copyright © 1973 by Marilyn Sachs

Originally published by Doubleday

Electronically published in 2013 by Belgrave House

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.