The Better to Hold You - By Alisa Sheckley Page 0,28
mother sighed and lit a cigarette, watching me get myself back under control. “Here. Do you want a cigarette? Don't look at me like that—sometimes it helps.” She shook out the match. “Why you want to keep him with you, I'll never understand. He's a bastard.”
I gave a little hiccup of a laugh. “You just think all men are bastards, Mom.”
“It's a safe assumption.”
“God.” I folded the tissue and blew my nose again. “How my father stayed married with you for ten years, I'll never know.”
“You talk like he's such an angel. Remember who left!”
“Mom, you were having affairs right and left. And you hounded him all the time. I remember when I was ten you actually had a fight where you said he was personally responsible for the subjugation of women in Spain.”
“He was a filmmaker. There's a responsibility there. Besides, he said a lot of shit about me.”
“Mom, you gave him an ulcer. He didn't give you an ulcer.”
For a long moment, my mother and I just looked at each other. Then she pushed herself off her chair. “Listen. I don't want to tear your father down. You want to believe he was the injured party—”
“He had to get a restraining order!” I hesitated. “Whose idea was it to get divorced, Mom? Yours or his?” They had always claimed it was mutual, but suddenly, I wondered whether that was the case.
My mother took a deep drag of her cigarette. “I suppose it was me. I couldn't put up with the cheating anymore. And I was tired of playing tit for tat.”
“Oh.” I took her hand, touching the amber of one of her big silver rings. “Do you know, I saw one of your movies last night, Mom.”
“Which one was it? Blood of Egypt?”
Her role in Blood of Egypt was my mother's favorite. I am named for Abra Cadabra, the deceptively mousy librarian. “No, Mom. Lucrezia Cyborgia.“
My mother stubbed out her cigarette. “I had an affair with that spaceman, you know. Dan Daimler.” There was a distant cacophony of feline yowls in the background. “So if you're up watching Dan making out with me, then you're not sleeping again.”
“Do you think I should leave him, Mom?”
I expected her to say, Damn right, but instead, my mother's face softened. “How about I get the cards out?”
I took another tissue and wiped my eyes. “You know I don't believe in that stuff, Mom.”
“But that stuff believes in you, Abra.”
“Not this again.”
“You keep saying you don't remember, but I'll never forget it. Standing outside the chteau, insisting you wouldn't set foot inside.”
“I was six.”
“Pain, you said. Someone in there was in great pain, and they couldn't get out.”
“I'd never seen a chteau before. To me, it probably looked haunted.”
“And then when we came back the next day, in broad daylight you crouched right down—”
“Oh, God, please, not that again …”
“And told the landlady her dog was hurt …”
I buried my face in my hands. “I was a kid. I must have heard someone talking about the dog.”
“You didn't speak French, Abra. And Madame Broussard said, Hurt where? And you put your hand right into that animal's huge mouth …”
“Mom, can I change the subject?”
“And there was a tumor the size of a lemon. Honey, don't you see that you've closed yourself off from this part of you?”
“No I haven't. I stick my hand in dogs' mouths every day.”
“But you ignore the instincts that brought you there.” Every time I think my mother might honestly have some advice for me she goes into her psychic phenomena spiel. According to her, this is the big talent I've neglected.
“Mom, about Hunter …”
“Think about him while I get the cards out.”
I sighed and watched her shuffle on the kitchen counter: badger, owl, turkey, squirrel.
“What are these?”
“Medicine cards. Native American. I did a reading for you last week and I saw magic in your future. And deception.”
Her fingers were deft, as if she'd been practicing a lot. “Mom, I've asked you not to do my tarot without permission. It's intrusive.”
Ignoring me, she laid the cards out on the Formica, a shield of owl, turkey, coyote, and raven.
“Oh, yeah? Which tribe? The crystal-gazing holistic Zuni merchandiser's clan?”
“Don't be flip. It's inspired by aboriginal wisdom. Don't snort at me, please.”
“Mom, it's just some New Age nonsense.”
“Sh. Think about your problem.”
“No.”
“Okay, here it is again. Owl in your recent past. It's an omen. Magic is coming your way. Deception.”