Something She's Not Telling Us - Darcey Bell Page 0,67
Dad snore too.”
Charlotte tries to help Daisy into her pajamas, but Daisy pulls away. Charlotte has forgotten how proud she is of the things she can do herself. Something about the way Daisy clambers under the covers breaks Charlotte’s heart.
Charlotte kisses the top of Daisy’s head. Within moments Daisy begins to snore, a tender snuffling in rhythmic counterpoint to her grandmother’s buzz saw.
Mom’s snoring stops, abruptly. Charlotte assumes she’s gone into another sleep phase when she sees—by the flicker of the night-light—that her mother is sitting up in bed.
Mom says, “Explain something. What was that back there, with Ruth and the driver?”
Charlotte has been avoiding that question. She’ll figure it out when she has time. Maybe tomorrow, on the plane. Maybe she can broach the subject with Rocco or even Ruth . . .
“I don’t know,” Charlotte says.
Mom says, “And where did she get that evil, evil mask?”
Charlotte’s surprised. Mom seemed so pleased to get it. She has no idea what her mother’s real feelings are. But that’s often true.
Charlotte says, “There’s a little place not far from the zocalo—”
“Leave me the address,” Mom says. “I’m returning it the minute you all leave tomorrow.”
“I thought you said you loved it.”
Mom shudders. “Do you want it?”
Charlotte doesn’t understand why she says no. She loves the mask, but she doesn’t want it now. It creeps her out.
“Good. I think it’s bad luck,” says Mom. “I liked it at first, but the more I looked at it, the more it scared me. There’s something wrong with that woman, Ruth. She is right smack in the middle of a very dark time. I saw that right away. Like they say on the cop shows, there’s something she’s not telling us. Take my word for it, Charlotte. There’s something going on there. If we knew, we’d be terrified.”
Charlotte says, “I think so too.”
“She is in so much trouble. I can say this with some authority, having been there myself. You have a lucky life, Charlotte, knock on wood. Faithful husband, beautiful daughter, work, home. As for Rocco . . . not so much, but his story’s not over yet. But this woman . . . Ruth . . . she’s barely treading water, and she can’t hold out. And I don’t want to see your brother going under with her.”
“You . . . tried to kill him. Maybe that’s why he has a little . . . problem with women.”
None of them have ever said this before. Charlotte waits for the world to come crashing down, but it doesn’t.
“Strictly speaking, I didn’t try anything of the sort,” says Mom. “And later he tried to kill me. So I guess you could say we’re even.”
“Have you told Rocco how you feel about Ruth?” asks Charlotte.
“If I did, he’d marry her tomorrow. I feel sorry for her. As someone who has been in bad shape myself, I can sympathize with a person who has shattered in pieces and is missing some of the fragments she needs to put herself back together. Let’s hope her problems are temporary.”
How strange that Mom, who has never shown much sympathy for anyone but herself, should pity Ruth. Maybe her sympathy for Ruth is just a disguised manifestation of her sympathy for herself.
Charlotte says, “Can I ask you something?”
“Ask away.”
“When you . . . when there was that fire . . . did you know that Rocco was home?”
“Of course not!” says Mom. “Do you think I would put your brother in danger? I was just trying to get your father’s attention. Anyway, I didn’t set anything. I was a careless smoker.”
Where would Charlotte begin to get at the truth about that? And nothing’s going to change her mother, or her mother’s story. Better stick to trying to fix what can still be fixed.
“What should we do about Ruth?”
Mom says, “‘We’? I’m sixty years old, I’m tired. I’m going to sleep. If you want to do something, you have to do it.”
“Good night,” Charlotte says. “Happy birthday.” She crosses the room to give her mother a last birthday hug.
Mom stiffens in Charlotte’s embrace. “The birthday is over, thank God.” Then she rolls away and faces the opposite wall.
“Sleep tight. Don’t let the scorpions bite,” Mom murmurs.
“Scorpions?” Charlotte says, but her mother is already asleep.
Charlotte stands in the doorway. What Mom’s said about Ruth has confirmed her own suspicions, and worse, everything seems . . . real. Something is very wrong. There is something Ruth’s not telling them. But what? Charlotte needs to