out the door or into the frying pan. I don’t belong here.
The business editor says, “Grayson, I think we need to take a harder line with the Dow Jones story. I’d like your guidance on that.”
“One minute, Carl. Gracie, anything?”
“No,” I say. “Nothing. Thanks.”
I AM back home in the empty house and on my way upstairs to change when I glance out the front window and see a car sitting in the driveway. It is an old gray sedan that looks vaguely familiar. Because of the way the afternoon sun glints off the windshield, I can’t see who is sitting behind the wheel. I stand perfectly still, watching, torn between hiding in my bedroom and walking outside to see who it is.
I am still deciding on my course of action when it is decided for me. The driver-side door opens and Aunt Meggy gets out. Then the passenger door opens, and I see Aunt Angel. Meggy walks around the car and extends her hand. Angel takes it and lets Meggy help her out of the car. I watch from the window, wondering what is going on. Neither of my aunts has ever visited me before.
They seem to be conferring by the side of the car. Angel leans against the door as Meggy rubs her lumpy shoulders. Suddenly, I understand: Angel is sick, and they have stopped by looking for Lila, looking for help. I cross the living room and swing open the front door. But I have moved too quickly, and the sunlight hits me in the face and turns the world into bright spots of loose color. I move my head and struggle to focus on the two women.
“Lila’s not here,” I call out. “She’s at the hospital.”
They both turn and look at me. Meggy says, “We’re not here to see Lila.”
“Isn’t Aunt Angel hurt?”
Angel steps away from the car and I can see that she’s been crying. Meggy says, “She’s fine. We came to see you. Aren’t you going to invite us in?”
I move so the door is left unblocked. I tell myself to calm down. No one is injured. This is not a matter of life and death. My thoughts reorder, and I know that if my aunts have come to see me, it must be about the baby. They have come to tell me what an embarrassment I am to the family.
Meggy requests a cup of tea, and Angel accepts a glass of cold water. We sit at the kitchen table while the teakettle rattles and shivers its way to hot.
“So,” I say, looking from Angel’s swollen face to Meggy’s determined one. My silly hope that I might be able to keep the conversation light and pleasant fades.
“All right, Angel,” Meggy says. “You wanted to talk first. Go ahead.”
I am almost amused by Meggy’s obvious sense of agenda, but not quite because I know that my situation is what she is headed for, and I suspect that the collision is going to hurt. I have never had much to say to Meggy. She and Lila can banter back and forth, but I don’t have the quick wit or sarcasm to take part. My aunt and my mother don’t get along because my mother’s feelings are so easily hurt and Meggy has such a sharp tongue. Meggy cuts immediately to the point and my mother never gets there. Mom complains that her younger sister is selfish. I don’t argue with my mother, but I never thought that her accusation was entirely fair, because Meggy always seems to be looking out for someone—Aunt Theresa and Aunt Angel, for instance. She took in Mary and John when Aunt Theresa became upset about Uncle Jack. And she is always harassing Johnny to be a better husband to Aunt Angel, and to stop being so absorbed in his alleged depression. Today I assume she is here on behalf of all my aunts and uncles, to tell me what a disappointment I am.
“How’s your job, Gracie?” Angel says. She taps the tabletop with ragged fingernails. “I always enjoy your column. I tell everyone I know that you’re my niece.”
“Okay, you’ve lost your chance,” Meggy says.
The teakettle lets out a sharp whistle, and we all jump. The noise always reminds me of Gram, and this time it reminds me that she’s expecting me to visit her tonight to pick up my monthly check. I pour the hot water into Lila’s favorite mug, which is covered with scientific equations. I have already set out