The Enchanted Life of Adam Hope - By Rhonda Riley Page 0,67
her eyes. Then she searched my face, wide-eyed, as she had the day I wandered away when I was a little girl, but she did not seem to see me. Suddenly, her whole face broke into a smile and she said, “Well, I’ll be goddamned.” She never cursed, but she said it again. For a second, her mouth hung open in shock, then her eyes brightened.
She looked around the store. I thought she was checking to see if anyone had heard her curse, but she seemed to be seeing something else. She pushed out a sigh. “Evelyn, I don’t think I can make it home without a cold, sweet drink.”
I giggled with puzzled relief as we walked down the street to the soda fountain.
We each had a float—an unusual extravagance for my mother. She sat opposite me in the booth, sipping from a straw like a girl while I tried to imagine her so in love with my daddy that she, like me, could not wait. High school girls tittered and whispered behind me in the next booth.
“Are you happy, Evelyn?” Her voice was low and serious.
“Yes, Momma. He makes me very happy.”
“And you’re sure about this. All of it?” She waved her hand at my waist. “This is what you wanted?”
I could only nod and blink my tears away.
“Well, that’s all I need to know.” She patted my hand.
I had stepped over into motherhood. I had joined the club.
We bought the white cloth, a cotton eyelet. For that afternoon it did not matter that there were other things I could not tell my mother. At last, there was one important thing I could tell her. Standing in line at the cash register, waiting for Ina to ring us up, we were like all the other women, ready to make out of patterns and whole cloth something new.
Days later, I stood on a footstool in Momma’s bedroom, turning slowly while she pinned the hem of my dress. Rita and Bertie joined us. My life had suddenly become interesting to them. They both had a crush on Adam, particularly Rita. Bertie would finish high school soon and had a beau who, though steady, did not seem like the marrying kind. My dress was too simple to truly sustain their interest, but they seemed reluctant to leave, as if afraid they might miss some secret bridal ritual. They began a primping marathon, brushing and grooming each other, considering their profiles and the fashion magazines they had bought for me.
Rita and Bertie wanted me to wear my hair in a style they had seen in a movie and were determined to demonstrate. Rita sat on the low bench of Momma’s dressing table while Bertie fumed at her fine, light hair. She winced each time Bertie swept her hair up. The more Rita whined, the harder Bertie brushed and pinned. I’d seen their tiffs countless times and knew the progress of them as if they were scripted.
I’d never been as close to them as they were to each other, but suddenly I realized that I never would be. My inner life had spun away from their world. I looked down at the top of Momma’s head. The three of them thought they knew what this marriage was to me, but they did not. They thought they knew Adam, but they did not.
“Hold your head still,” Bertie admonished.
Rita pressed her lips together, tears of frustration in her eyes.
I gazed at my flushed face in the mirror. Momma knelt before me, pulling the hem of my dress even on both sides and sliding the last straight pin through the cloth. I caught Rita’s reflection and tried to smile my encouragement, but she saw the tears in my eyes and took them as confirmation of the outrage she suffered at Bertie’s hands. Her face crumpled. Crying, she shoved Bertie away and dashed out of the room.
Momma glanced up at my face.
I blinked and tried not to cry.
Momma glared at Bertie. “You, too. Out and take those magazines with you. Apologize to your sister.”
“What’d I do?” Bertie sulked.
Momma shut the door behind her, then turned to me and smoothed my dress sleeves down over my arms. She handed me a handkerchief. “Evelyn, this is a big step, a big change. It’s normal to be a little rocky. But Adam has a good heart. I think you’re doing the right thing.”
In a gush of gratitude, I tried to laugh, but managed only a strangled snicker.