Silenced by the Yams - By Karen Cantwell Page 0,15

were almost always rhetorical—more for show than anything. But Mama Marr, unaccustomed to my mother or overbearing people in general, did not know this. “We are in the kitchen, Diane!” she hollered. Then she touched my arm. “Isn’t it so nice, your mother come to visit you like this? It is good she lives so close, yes?”

Um. No.

My mother presented her hulking physique in the doorway. She wore what appeared to be a brand new pair of blue jeans and a black leather jacket. A pair of ornate cowboy boots topped off the ensemble which was way beyond normal, even for her. “Alka!” she gushed, throwing her arms open wide.

Mama Marr threw her arms open as well. “Diane!”

When they came in for the hug, Mama Marr had to rise way up high on her tip toes and my mom had to bend so low I was afraid she’d topple. All in all, the scene resembled a reunion between Gandalf and an old Polish Frodo.

My mother commands quite a presence. She towers over just about everybody, except maybe Fred Munster. She’s a freakishly tall, big-boned woman. Not fat, just big. Everything she does is big—she dresses lavishly, she walks big, she talks big. As a girl, I felt dwarfed by her character. My only solace was that I hadn’t inherited her monstrously large physical frame.

After watching them enjoy each other’s company for thirty seconds or so, I was struck with a moment of brilliance. It required a lie, but heck, that ship had already sailed, so I added to the cargo.

“Mom,” I said putting on my best, sweetest daughter smile. “Howard was going to take Mama Marr into Washington to see some museums tomorrow, but he’s been called into work, and I have to spend a couple of hours with my friend Peggy planning a bon voyage party for my neighbor Roz. . .”

“And you want me to show her a good time?”

I hoped she had museums in mind when she said that. “Well—”

“Think nothing of it. You know you’re one of my favorite people, Alka! Consider your day booked. I’ll pick you up at . . .” she tapped her chin as if thinking things through. “I’ll pick you up at eleven in the morning. Does that work?”

Mama Marr seemed flustered and said she didn’t want to be a burden to anyone and she could just sit with the girls, but my mother would have none of it. She’d decided and that was that. “Eleven it is,” she said, giving Mama Marr another quick hug. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I must run. I’m already late for my motorcycle riding lesson with Benito.”

Suddenly, the blue jeans and leather jacket were explained. That’s Diane Pettingford—always a new and exciting activity on her agenda. Last year she ran a marathon and took up tae kwon do and just a couple months ago she took part in a Citizen’s Fire Fighter Academy. So the motorcycle riding lesson didn’t cause me to bat an eyelash, although I did sort of feel sorry for the motorcycle. And Benito, whoever he was.

A few minutes later I found Howard in our room grabbing his keys from his bedside table. He was dressed and ready to leave. I swooped in for a hug and good-bye kiss that lingered a nice long time. “Maybe you should stay and see where that kiss might lead,” I suggested while we stood, arms around each others waists.

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” His mouth was tugged into a wily smile. “I’m not sure I should take that chance, though—with you being linked to the mafia killing of a famous Hollywood director and all.”

I pulled away. “You know about that?”

“Barb,” he laughed. “it’s my job to know about that.”

“And you’re not upset?”

He shook his head and mumbled something about not having enough time to be upset while he bent over to tie his shoe laces. When he stood up, a more serious, stone-like look had crossed his face. “Listen,” he said. “I want to talk to you about something.”

He’d wanted to talk to me earlier and I’d shut him down. “This doesn’t sound good,” I said.

“It’s nothing to worry about—” He was interrupted by his cell phone beeping a text notification. After reading the text, he gave me a quick peck and started moving. “Gotta go.”

“But—”

“I know, I know. I start this conversation and then we get interrupted. You’re annoyed, I’m annoyed. But really, it can wait.”

Poof! He was gone and