The Sky Beneath My Feet - By Lisa Samson Page 0,99
with marijuana. I don’t know where he’s getting it, or how much he’s smoking, but when I confronted him, he didn’t back down. He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it. He said he isn’t going to stop.”
As I speak, the same expression comes over Rick that I remember from his examination of the mural. That overwhelmed but processing look. He doesn’t say anything at first. My words hang in the air, sounding much more matter-of-fact than I’d intended: Cool Mom doesn’t freak out about a little weed. Cool Mom takes things in stride, hoping for the best.
“All right,” he says.
“All right?”
He nods. “Leave it with me.”
“And what—you’ll take care of it? Rick, like I said, he’s really digging in his heels on this.”
“You’ve had to carry the load by yourself since I checked out. Time for me to pick up the slack. Leave it with me and I’ll figure something out. Promise me you’re not going to worry about it.”
“Oh, I can’t promise that,” I say. “But, Rick?”
“Yeah?”
“Did I mention that I love you?”
“I don’t remember. I don’t think so, no.”
“Well, I love you.”
“Thanks,” he says. “I love you too.”
“Don’t think you have to become St. Rick on my account.”
“St. Rick?” he says. “Who’s he?”
As soon as I reveal where the idea came from, Holly’s interest in shopping evaporates.
“He said that? ‘Go shopping’? Of all the misogynistic, pig-like things—”
“Now, now. You do like to shop.”
“Not anymore, sister.” She pauses, then: “Although . . . there is one thing I was just thinking of trying on.”
After lunch, she insists on accompanying me home, following in her car, either to chew out Rick or see Margaret safely home, I’m not sure which. Although she’s never actually met my elderly neighbor, going to the hospital that night instilled a sense of duty. We arrive just as Deedee is walking her mother up the front steps while Roy fetches luggage from the trunk of his Rolls.
“Can we help with anything?” I ask.
Seeing us, Margaret insists on coming back down the walkway. Deedee holds her arms out to corral the old lady, who seems frailer than before and stooped from the weight of the sling that supports her cast. Still, her blue eyes shine impressively, alight with intelligence, undimmed by age.
“Thank you so much,” she says, patting me on the hand. Then she turns to Holly, thanking her as well, already informed that one of my friends had visited the hospital that first night. “It’s good to be home, and I don’t want anybody troubling over me.”
“Well, we’re going to trouble,” Deedee insists.
“It’s no trouble,” I say. “I was thinking it would be nice to drop in on you, just to see how you’re doing.”
“I would enjoy the company.”
“Mother, you’ll have a nurse. I told you already I’m hiring someone.”
“A nurse,” Margaret says to me in a confiding tone. “Like I am some kind of invalid. Me. Tell me this: how many women my age could take a fall like that and not break a hip? Not very many, I can assure you. A nurse—a real nurse”—she raises her voice to make sure Deedee hears—“told me I was as strong as an ox. But really, I doubt many an ox could survive a fall like that unscathed.”
Deedee taps the cast with her fingernail. “This is what you call unscathed?”
It’s hard to believe Margaret had a stroke last week. She speaks as clearly as ever, and the lopsidedness I noted to her face back in the hospital seems to be gone. A complete recovery, so far as I can tell, apart from the cast on her arm.
“I have something for you,” I say, turning to Holly.
Since I don’t haul around a purse, Holly obliged me when the thought occurred on the way home. I chugged into a convenience store, only to strike out. We had to hit two more before finding what I was after. Holly reaches into the bag slung from her shoulder, producing the familiar red-and-yellow package.
“A Zagnut!” Margaret coos. “Thank you, thank you.”
Deedee gives me a hard look. “It’s a candy bar, Mother, not a brick of gold from Fort Knox.”
“You always forget.”
“Maybe you’d prefer to have Elizabeth take you inside?”
“Don’t be silly. If you wipe that frown off your face, I’ll share.”
They go inside, Roy hovering as always. Holly and I stand on the sidewalk and watch them. Margaret waves before Deedee shuts the door. I turn to Holly and smile.