“How long were you in there?” Pru said. She was still trying to act like nothing was wrong. “You’ll be lucky if you don’t get pneumonia. You better not have pneumonia, missy. Mom’ll kill me!” She led her to the couch in the living room. The blankets Patsy had been using at night were on the floor. Pru picked them all up and piled them as best she could around her sister. Annali, who had been trailing after them, looking worried, had started to cry. Pru brought her over to the table, and let her eat out of a carton of ice cream with a spoon.
“I’m sorry,” Patsy finally said, her teeth clattering. “I’m sorry.” Pru was so relieved that she was talking that she almost cried. Now that she was warmer, Patsy seemed basically fine. Except, of course, that she was clearly having a nervous breakdown. But she hadn’t taken pills, or cut herself, or done any of the other things Pru had been fearing. There was no sign she’d done anything intentionally self-harming. The color was coming back into her lips.
“I can’t leave you alone for a minute,” Pru said, smoothing back her wet hair. She had to work to keep her tone neutral so that Annali, who had come wandering over, wouldn’t know that her mother was scaring the crap out of her aunt. “Such a drama queen, you are.” She rubbed Patsy’s arms, still shaking under the blanket. They felt like sticks. The skin around the diamond in her nose was greenish, and peeling.
Annali had her hat-lovey in one hand and a pickle she’d found somewhere in the other. She came climbing up between them. “What’s wrong with Mommy?” she said.
“Mommy is a little sad, honey. That’s all.”
“Why is Mommy sad?”
“Sometimes people just get sad.”
Annali put her hands on either side of Patsy’s face, stroking it. “There, there, Mommy,” she said. “Shhhhh.” Pru smelled pickle juice and baby shampoo. It was all she could do not to put her head down and weep.
Patsy turned her head to kiss the inside of Annali’s hand, then closed her eyes. “You are my sweet peach,” she said.
“Let’s give her some Tylenol,” Annali said.
“That’s a good idea,” Pru said.
“And a beer!” shouted Annali, jumping up. “Mommies drink beer when they feel bad.”
“Oh, that’s just great,” muttered Patsy, from under her blanket. “She’s really learning some life skills this week, isn’t she?”
AFTER ANNALI WAS IN BED AND PATSY WAS IN FRONT OF the television, dressed and no longer shivering but not having eaten, Pru sat down at her computer to write an e-mail to her mother.
She didn’t know where to begin. Nadine knew almost nothing of what had been going on. Pru hadn’t been able to talk to her privately, with Patsy and Annali always around. After a while, she decided to say only that Patsy and Jacob had broken up, they were now at Pru’s, and Patsy seemed “a little depressed.” The four lines took Pru twenty minutes to compose. She certainly didn’t mention wives, subzero baths, or walking comas.
Just before she was about to sign off and go to bed, a reply came from her mother. Nadine didn’t use e-mail the regular way, like chatting back and forth. She still thought of it as a sort of telegram service, where you paid by the word. Her e-mail said: “Help on the way. Coming day after tomorrow. Arrive National, 6 pm.” You could practically hear the “Stop” after each sentence.
It was the first time all week Pru could remember smiling.
TWO DAYS LATER, NADINE CAME OFF THE AIRPLANE AT National holding a Styrofoam carry-on cooler. She wore stretch slacks and a flowered shirt, lemons and oranges on a blue background, and her tennis shoes.
Following behind her, holding two suitcases and grinning from ear to ear, was Annali’s father, Jimmy Roy.
Fourteen
Jimmy Roy still looked like what he was, a former local-circuit rock star, dressed in black jeans and boots and a Sex Pistols T-shirt. He could also pass for a pirate. The guitar slung across his back could have been a scabbard. His eyes were satiny and almost navy, just like Annali’s, and he had the same expressive, almost feminine mouth. He wore several thick, silver rings and bracelets on both wrists. He and Nadine, in her two-piece Stein Mart stretch rayon outfit, made a hopelessly incongruous pair, but Pru couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather see at the moment.
“Hey,” Jimmy Roy said, coming over to kiss Pru on both cheeks.
“Now, this makes me happy,” Pru said. “Annali will go nuts.”
“Ah,” said Jimmy Roy, “but how about her mother?”
Pru had no idea how to answer, so she pointed to the cooler her mother held. “What’s in that thing?”
“Turkey,” Nadine said, as if Pru was a little slow. “We always have turkey at Thanksgiving.”
Pru wanted to point out that the grocery stores in D.C. carried turkeys, too. But she was too glad for the reinforcements, and instead lifted the cooler out of her mother’s arms and hugged her hard.
ANNALI CAME SKIDDERING OUT OF THE BEDROOM, SHOUTING “Grandma!” She’d been furious that she’d been made to stay behind and take a nap, and had clearly been lying in bed all afternoon, fully awake and alert.
As soon as Nadine put down her bag and opened her arms, Annali shrieked and ran into them. “Oh, my pumpkin butter, how I’ve missed you!”
Over her grandmother’s shoulder Annali saw Jimmy Roy, who’d been hanging back, outside the door. Patsy saw him at the same moment. Her mouth turned down as if she’d bitten into something unpleasant.
For a moment, Annali hesitated, uncertain. “Do you know who that is?” Nadine asked her, quietly. Annali nodded, then scrambled out of Nadine’s arms.
“Daddy!”
Jimmy Roy crouched and Annali came flying at him. As she slammed into him, his face flooded with relief. She’d only just learned to talk, the last time he’d seen her, he’d told Pru in the cab.
Jimmy
