a little hesitantly. “They both nursed until they were almost two. Sometimes Josh will still try to nip my breast. In play, you know.”
Somewhat taken aback, I said, “You seem to enjoy their company.” I didn’t know whether that was true or not.
She shrugged and laughed a little. “I think I’ve inherited my father’s attitudes toward children. They’d be fine if you could teach them and train them and mold them into what you want. Otherwise, they’re mostly irritating.” She laughed again and shivered, hugged herself, passed a hand over her eyes. “But I don’t have to like my kids in order to be a good mother, do I?”
For a long time, I didn’t see Ron. He was always at work when I was there, and, no matter how late I stayed, he worked later.
“Come with me to see this movie. I’ve been wanting to see it for a long time, and it’s about to leave town, and I don’t want to go alone.”
“There’s a movie that the boys want to see. One of those kung fu things. I promised I’d take them this weekend.”
Kelly’s roses faded, and the marigolds and petunias and then chrysanthemums came into their own. The apple tree bore nicely, tiny fruit clustered all on the south side of the tree because, Kelly speculated, the blossoms on the north side had been frozen early in the spring. That distressed her enormously; her eyes shone with tears when she talked about it. The boys went back to school.
“Now you have lots of free time. Let’s go to the art museum one morning next week. I can take a few hours off.”
“Oh, Brenda, the work around here is endless. Really. I have fall housecleaning to do. I’m redecorating Clay’s room. There must be a dozen layers of wallpaper on those walls. My first responsibility is to Ron and the children. You’re welcome to come here, though. I could fix you lunch.”
One crisp Wednesday in late September I had a meeting over on her side of town, and I didn’t have to be back at the office until my two o’clock staff meeting. Impulsively, I turned off onto a side street toward her house.
I had never been to Kelly’s house on a weekday before. I had never dropped in on her unexpectedly. I had seldom dropped in on anybody unexpectedly; I liked to have time to prepare, and was keenly aware of the differences between people in private and people when they met the world, even the small and confused part of the world represented by me. My heart was skittering uneasily, and I felt a little feverish, chilled, though the sun was warm and the sky brilliant. The houses and trees and fence rows along these old blocks had taken on that sharp-edged quality that autumn sometimes imparts to a city; every brick seemed outlined, every flower and leaf a jewel.
I parked by the side of her house, across the street. I opened and shut the gate as quietly as I could. I stood for a while on her porch, listening to the wind chimes, catching stray rainbows from the lopsided paper leaf Josh had made in school and hung in the front window. She had moved the plants inside for the winter, and the porch seemed bare. Finally I pushed the button for the doorbell and waited. A few cars went by behind me. I touched the doorbell button again, listened for any sound inside the house, could hear none.
When I tried the door, it opened easily. I went in quickly and shut the door behind me, thinking to keep out the light and dust. I was nearly through the front hall and to the kitchen before I called her name.
“In here, Brenda,” she answered, as though she’d been expecting me. I stopped for a moment, bewildered; maybe I’d somehow forgotten that I had called ahead, or maybe we’d had plans for today that I hadn’t written in my appointment book.
“Where?”
“In here.”
I found her, finally, in the master bedroom. She was in bed, under the covers; she wore a scarf and a stocking cap on her head, mittens on the hands that pulled the covers up to her chin. Around her neck I could see the collar of the white fur jacket. Her teeth were chattering, and her skin was so pale that it was almost green. I stood in the doorway and stared. The shaft of light through the blinded window looked wintry. “Kelly, what’s wrong?