“And the driver, she should be sued, too. I want them both joined in the suit. Is that possible?”
Amrita interjected, “Barton, we know the driver. It’s Suk Yun, one of the other mothers. She’s very sorry.”
“Oh, she’s sorry? She’s sorry for putting our boy in the hospital? She’s sorry she almost killed him. She should have been watching.”
“She was, dear. She’s a lovely woman. She was driving very slowly-”
“Amrita!” Barton threw up his hands. “Why are you making excuses for this woman? She could have killed our son. You expect so little of people, that’s why you get so little. What are you thinking? What?”
Mary sensed she shouldn’t be here, in this private time, and moved to the door. “I’ll let you two talk. Call me on the cell, if you need me.”
Amrita said stiffly, “Thank you for coming, Mary.”
“Yes, thanks,” Barton called after her, and Mary let herself out without looking back. She closed the door behind her and when she heard the shouting resume, she stepped away. Elvira was sitting in the patterned chair against the wall, a forlorn figure, her gray head bent.
“I met Barton.” Mary went over and sat down beside her, suddenly exhausted, and Elvira made a funny face, her glasses popping off the bridge of her nose.
“I don’t like him,” she said. “He’s a jerk.”
“He’s just upset.”
“Nah, he’s always like that. Bossy. He leaves Rita alone all the time and when he comes home, all he does is gripe.”
“Where’s Mrs. Ciorletti?”
“She left a while ago. I wanted to stay and make sure Rita was okay.”
“You take good care of her, Elvira.”
“She’s my neighbor.”
Mary smiled, touched. “I think she’s fine now. Can I take you home?”
“Nah, you don’t hafta.” Elvira waved her off. “I called my Ant’n’y, from the nurses’ phone.” She gestured at the desk down the hall. “He’ll be here.”
Uh-oh. “I could have taken you.”
“I didn’t know if you were gonna stay or not, and he likes to help me.” Elvira patted Mary’s leg. “When you get to be a mother, I wish for you a son as good as my Ant’n’y, even though he plays for the other team.”
Mary suppressed her smile. “He doesn’t seem gay to me.”
“A mother knows these things, and you know what? I love my son. Like we were sayin’ the other day, there’s Hindus and there’s gays in this world. It’s all mixed up nowadays, and you know what? The sun still comes up.” Elvira leaned forward and looked down the hall. “Shhh, here he comes.”
Mary helped Elvira up and caught Anthony’s eye as he bustled down the hall, concerned. She had to admit that he was a great-looking man, and a nurse at the station peeked over the top of the high counter as he strode by, his tan jacket open. He had on long, slim jeans and shiny loafers, and Mary couldn’t help but smile at him.
“Look at these two beautiful women,” Anthony said, giving his mother a quick kiss on the cheek, and then Mary, too, which he pulled off before she could react one way or the other.
“Sorry I didn’t call you back,” she said. “I was so busy today.”
“That’s okay.” Anthony grinned, and if he was hurt, it didn’t show. Then his face changed. “How’s Dhiren?”
“Okay,” Mary said, as Elvira grabbed Anthony by the coat sleeve and pulled him close to her.
“That jerk’s in there, with Rita,” she stage-whispered.
“Shall we go, ladies?” Anthony looped his arm through his mother’s, turned her around, and got her going down the hall. Mary fell into place beside them, and Anthony looked over. “Mary, if you didn’t know yet, my mother is a woman with very definite likes and dislikes. There’s no middle ground. Gray is the new black and white.”
“That’s not true.” Elvira smiled.
“Oh yeah?” Anthony asked, “What do you think of Celine Dion?”
“She’s a great singer.”
“What about Barbra Streisand?”
“She’s a commie.”
Mary laughed, relaxing, and the three of them walked down the hall, making surprisingly easy small talk until they got outside the hospital. It was early evening, an indigo wash darkening the sky from top to bottom, with a full moon rising. Yellow lights glowed inside the hotel across the way, and the round, orange-tiled roof of the University Museum caught the streetlamps, a bit of old Florence in West Philly.
“Where’d you park, Mary?” Anthony asked, but she was already frowning at the spot where her car had been, on 34th Street. An empty space sat where she had parked, unwelcome as a missing front tooth. “There. But it’s gone.”
“Under the No Parking sign?” Anthony pointed, and Elvira clucked.
“I wouldn’t do that, Mare. They’ll tow ya, around here.”
“I didn’t realize it.” Mary groaned. She’d been in such a rush when she’d arrived at the hospital. No wonder she’d gotten such a great parking space.
“I know where the impound lot is.” Anthony touched her shoulder. “Let me take you. Wait here with my mother, and I’ll go get the car. Be right back.”
“Thanks.” Mary threw an arm around Elvira as he left, then thought of Brinkley and Missing Persons. Her cell phone had been turned off in the hospital. But somebody should have called back. “Excuse me, Elvira. You mind if I take a second to check my calls?”
“Nah, go head. Ant does the same thing, alla time.” She waved a hand, and Mary went into her purse for her phone. The screen said she’d missed a call. She pressed the button to return the call, and it was Brinkley who answered.
“Mary?” he said, when he heard her voice. “We found a body.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
M ary sat, numb, in the backseat of the Prius, having taken the news like a physical blow. She couldn’t breathe a word of what Brinkley had told her to Anthony or his mother, because it wasn’t public knowledge. Luckily, the car radio was off, and the only sound was the familiar cadence of the back and forth between the two, who talked in the front seat, oblivious to what had taken place only ten blocks away.
Mary struggled to keep her composure, only half listening.
“How about Judy Garland?” Anthony was saying.
“Now she was a star, a real star. But Sue hates her, too.”
“Mrs. Ciorletti hates Judy?” Anthony scoffed. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Sue’s grumpy, but that’s just her way.”
“It’s called depression, Ma.”
“Nah. She just don’t like things, or people. Like Mary here. Sue don’t like her at all.”
“Ma!” Anthony said, embarrassed.
Mary’s ears pricked up. “Why not?” she asked, not that she really cared. Before Brinkley’s call, she’d cared.
“There’s a lotta talk about you, Mare, and it’s not very nice.”
“Ma, please,” Anthony said, looking over.
“Don’t be so fresh and don’t make that shut-up face. Mary knows I love her.” Elvira twisted around to the backseat, her coarse gray hair making a frizzy halo, backlit from a streetlight. “People are sayin’ that you forgot where you’re from, you know what I mean? It started all of a sudden, with Trish Gambone, because her mother told everybody that you wouldn’t help her and then it’s on the TV. They’re blamin’ you for what happened to her.”
