Sweet Dreams, Irene

He must have felt me clench his hand.

“Why not? If Bakersfield is such a great place, I ought to show her around.”

“She’s lived here before, you said. And it can’t be easy for her to get around in all of those contraptions. No, leave her here and let us get acquainted. Go on, shoo. I need you to get back here before Cassie comes over.”

He looked at the list. “You sure you need all of this stuff? With what you’ve got in the kitchen now-”

“Never you mind, Franklin. Now scoot.”

He eyed her suspiciously. I knew that look. He thought she was up to something. He gives me that same look when I’m up to something. But she didn’t waver in returning a look of her own that said there would be no further discussion on the issue.

He looked at me and shrugged. “Will you be all right?”

“Of course she’ll be all right!”

Frank kept looking at me.

“I’ll be okay,” I said.

And so it was that I was left planted in a couch while Frank went off to run errands. As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Harriman excused herself, got up, and busied herself in the kitchen for a few minutes.

She came back out and seemed nervous. She kept looking at the clock. I decided to try to get a conversation going.

“How long have you lived here?” I asked.

“What? Oh, let’s see. It will be forty-two years in December.”

“It’s a lovely home. You have quite a collection of-” What to mention first? “ – of frogs.”

She laughed, and started telling me about some of them, where they came from, who had given them to her. We were both smiling when the doorbell rang. She suddenly looked very flustered, then went to answer the door.

“Why, Evelyn! What a surprise!”

“It is?” I heard a woman’s voice say. There was a murmur, then after a moment the voice said, “Oh. Oh. Yes.” Then the voice was loud, almost as if the speaker wanted to reach the audience in the back of a theater. “Yes, I was just in the neighborhood and I thought I’d stop by.”

More murmuring, and then Frank’s mom escorted a truly exotic creature into the living room. She was heavyset and had blue hair. Her eye makeup was applied in such a way as to make her look constantly startled. Her cheeks were rouged in two bright spots. She appeared to be in her sixties. Her earrings were dangling papier-mâché bananas. She came in smiling nervously, clutching her bag as if I might rob her. But she took in my injuries and exclaimed, “Oh, you poor dear!” and shot Frank’s mom a dirty look.

“This is Mrs. Parker,” Bea Harriman said. “She’s a good friend. She just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

“You don’t say,” I replied warily. Something was up, all right, but Mrs. Parker looked like a poor choice for a conspirator. She seemed totally at sea. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker. I’m Irene Kelly. I’m a friend of Frank’s.”

“You are? Oh, you might know my daughter then. Cecilia?”

My turn to shoot the dirty look, but Mrs. Harriman wisely avoided my eyes. Mrs. Parker was really lost now, so I said, “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Frank and Cecilia were so much in love. I tell you, he was crazy about that girl. Just doted on her. I’m sure Frank has talked about her to you. He was out and out silly over her.”

I smiled, admittedly one of the phoniest smiles of my life, and said, “As a matter of fact, he has told me about Cecilia.”

“Really?” Mrs. Parker was delighted.

“Yes. He told me that they were together for a few years, that he followed her to Las Piernas, that she went back to Bakersfield, that he didn’t follow. That he has no intention of following.” This last I gave special emphasis as I looked over at Frank’s mother.

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Mrs. Harriman meowed.

Mrs. Parker looked extremely ill at ease. “Uh, are you from Las Piernas?”

“Yes,” I said. I was trying to cool down. Mrs. Parker was clearly a pawn. I didn’t like the game much.

“Oh, so is your family from Las Piernas?”

“I was born and raised there.”

“Then why not have Thanksgiving di

“Yes, why not?” Bea Harriman chimed in.

“I was invited here,” I said.

“Won’t your family miss you?” Mrs. Parker asked.

“My sister and her husband have plans of their own,” I said. It might or might not be a lie. Barbara had never even asked me about Thanksgiving.

“What about your parents?”

“My parents are no longer living.” I realized that I had said this same phrase to so many people over the last seven years that the sting had gone out of saying it. I usually said it as easily as “Please pass the peas and carrots.” Somehow, this time, the sting was back. Maybe it was the holiday, maybe it was the strain I was under. Maybe it was because I felt like a goddamned orphan, even though that really wasn’t the case. I took a deep breath.

Mrs. Parker was rather stricken, and even Frank’s mom suddenly looked as if she realized she had overstepped a boundary.

It was at that moment that Frank returned. He walked in with a couple of grocery sacks and took everything – well, almost everything – in within ten seconds. He cursed with fluency and imagination and slammed the sacks of groceries down on the dining room table. I hoped he had bought eggs.

“Franklin!” his mother snapped.

He looked at Mrs. Parker. “Hello, Evelyn. Forgive my language. Would you please excuse us?”

“Hello, Frank,” she said. “I was just leaving. I’ll say hello to Cecilia for you.”

“Thank you,” he said, but now he was glaring at his mother.

“I’ll see you out,” Mrs. Harriman said meekly.

As they left, he hurried over to me and sat down beside me. “Irene, I am so sorry. I didn’t even get everything on her damned list because I had this bad feeling about leaving you here by yourself. But I never thought she’d stoop – I’m just so sorry. I never should have brought you here.”

He scooped me up off the couch, and while I was glad to be out of the hole it put me in, I was startled.

“What are you doing?” It was going to be my question, but his mother asked it first.

“We are leaving,” he said, his voice cold. As angry as I had seen Frank, this was a kind of rage that was scarier than any of the other forms I had seen his temper take.

“Frank, please.” She was starting to cry.

“Crying won’t work, Mom. You’ve gone too far this time. Don’t ever even hint to me that I should come back here again. It’s not home anymore.”

As rotten as she had treated me, I felt sorry for her. She had tried something really dumb and it had backfired on her. By the time Frank reached the front porch, I asked him to set me down.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, as if my voice had startled him into realizing that he was carrying me.

“No, and she didn’t either. Not really, Frank.” There was a big old-fashioned swing on the porch. I motioned toward it. “Let’s sit out here on the swing for a minute before we climb back into the car. I need to talk to you.”

“I’m not staying.”

“Just sit here with me for a minute.”

He gave in, some of the fight seeming to leave him now that we were outside. I let him get the swing in motion and we listened to its rhythmic creaking for a few minutes before I said anything more.

“I’m not crazy about your mom’s methods, but I honestly think she just feels like she needs you. I think she’s afraid she’s lost you. She’s lost her husband, and she doesn’t want to lose her son.”

He sighed, but didn’t say anything.

“Your mom and I aren’t off to a great start, but I’m not ready to give up. I don’t want to become known as the reason you won’t see her anymore. Besides, none of this is fair to Cassie. She’s had to be the one your mom turns to all the time. You’re down in Las Piernas.”

“I just can’t stand the idea of what she did today. It’s embarrassing.”