Last Known Address. Elizabeth Wrenn

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СКАЧАТЬ not really a present for you. It’s for Lucy. Mrs Diamont suggested it. I had to go in for another conference and—’ Kathryn caught her breath. ‘She’s way behind in spelling, writing in general. And she can’t–read.’ Her voice cracked, she placed a hand over her mouth briefly, then removed it, placing her palm on the door. ‘Mrs Diamont thinks she’s going to have to be held back, repeat second grade.’

      ‘Oh, darlin,’ said C.C., stepping toward her daughter, her arms open. But Kathryn spoke without turning. ‘Mother, no. Please. Just–leave it. I don’t want this to come up. With Lucy. But that’s all this present is about.’

      ‘Of course.’ She got it. She’d gotten it at ‘Mother’. Kathryn called her that only if she was angry, inaccessible. She called her ‘Mom’ casually, ‘Momma’ in a tender moment or when she most needed her. It had been a while since she had heard the tender moniker. C.C. lowered her arms to her sides, then clasped her hands in front of her, then put them back at her sides, suddenly wishing that arms came with some proper storage system. The doorbell rang. C.C. looked at her daughter, asking with her eyes if she could open the door. Kathryn nodded, stepped away, and C.C. pulled the door open.

      ‘Trick or treat!’ Lucy burst into giggles as she stood outside, her hands behind her back.

      ‘Land sakes, child! It’s only the end of March. Y’all come back in October!’ C.C. pretended to close the door.

      ‘It’s a treat for you, Meemaw!’ Lucy laughed, pushed the door open with one hand and brought the gift from behind her back. She jumped up over the threshold. C.C. gently closed the door behind her.

      The gift was wrapped in colorful Sunday comics and had an inordinate amount of tape on it. It also had an impressive amount of pink ribbon, wrapped around several times, tied into several floppy bows, all with curly ends. Lucy handed it to C.C. ‘Here. We got me one that—’ She clapped her hand over her mouth, glanced up at her mother.

      Kathryn gathered her in her arms, kissed the top of her head. ‘Good catch.’

      ‘Shall I open it now, or wait till your aunties arrive?’ asked C.C.

      ‘Wait for Aunt Meg and Shelly,’ said Lucy. ‘But you have to guess what it is now!’ She bobbed up and down on her toes.

      C.C. looked at the box, hefting it. ‘Let’s see…It could be a big, fat book, but it’s too light. And I guess we can rule out a basketball, huh?’ She grinned at Lucy, who grinned back, almost filling C.C. up. She held the box near her ear, shook it gently. There was a soft rattle. ‘Umm, is it a goldfish?’ She sucked in her cheeks and crossed her eyes, giving Lucy her fish face. Lucy dissolved in giggles.

      ‘Nooo, Meemaw! Guess again!’

      ‘Knock, knock,’ said a voice, as the door pushed open.

      ‘Auntie Meg! Shelly!’ Shelly had long ago told Lucy to just call her Shelly, but Meg liked being an unofficial auntie, as long as there was never a ‘great’ or ‘grand’ in front.

      Both women bent, Meg setting a heavy-looking tote bag on the floor. Shelly gave Lucy a quick but sturdy hug. Meg, however, kneeled, wrapped her arms around Lucy. Her eyes closed as she held her, as if feeding on the life force all little girls have to spare. A small smile appeared on Meg’s thin, pale face as Lucy grunted happily, her little arms squeezing Meg back. C.C. didn’t know whether to smile or cry. What that little girl lacks in males in her life, she makes up for in maternal love, she thought.

      ‘Scooch back, please, you two, so I can close the door,’ said Shelly. When Meg and Lucy had moved, she pushed the door closed with a thud. ‘Don’t want to let the cold air in.’

      C.C. smiled at Kathryn, gesturing with her hands to say, ‘See? I’m not the only one.’ Kathryn quickly moved to embrace Shelly, then Meg.

      ‘Look!’ said C.C., holding up her gift, trying another tack. She winked at Meg and Shelly. ‘Lucy gave me a goldfish!’

      Lucy fell to the floor, laughing. Kathryn exhaled in a way that only her mother would hear.

      ‘Oh, a goldfish is just the ticket!’ said Shelly. ‘He’ll come in handy on our road trip. He can point the way.’ Shelly shrugged off her coat, threw it over the banister. She wiggled her hand like a fish in front of Lucy, alternately swimming and pointing. Then she gave her a little poke in the belly, eliciting more giggles.

      They all made their way into the kitchen, with C.C. bringing up the rear, her gift in her hands, but a heaviness in her heart, too aware for days now of ‘the last time’ they’d be doing one thing or another. The last time we’ll all walk into the kitchen together. Their last meal in this house. It made it feel like she was never coming back to Wisataukee, which she was. She just didn’t know when. But not to this house. She’d likely buy a condo or something. A condo for one. She saw herself with a cat, tending too many plants, eating baked beans out of the can, standing over the sink. She didn’t even like cats much. A little sigh escaped as she joined the others in the kitchen. How often had the five of them gathered like this, for an impromptu meal, or a trip to the museum, or shopping? All happy events. But like the cold wind circling outside, a chill pulled at the edges of the group tonight.

      Meg set the bag on the counter, began to unpack. ‘Shelly’s contributing caviar, believe it or not. How old is this, Shel?’ Meg stared at the small round container, intently studying the lettering of the black and red label, an uncertain look on her face. ‘Is this Russian?’

      ‘Yes. It was a gift from Sergei.’

      ‘Who?’ asked C.C.

      ‘Ah, yes,’ said Meg knowingly. She turned to C.C. ‘You know, tall, dark and handsome, in a pointy kind of way? The one before the one before…the last one.’ She bobbed the caviar through the air as she counted.

      Shelly shoved Meg’s hand playfully out of the air, grabbing the caviar from her. ‘I don’t know, maybe six months,’ she said, studying it. ‘A year?’ She lifted the top and sniffed, made a face. ‘How do you tell when smelly fish eggs have gone bad?’ She pushed an errant, graying bang back behind her ear. C.C. knew Shelly had stopped coloring her hair for budgetary reasons, and had told them she wanted to try long hair again. The poor thing had gone from being the most well-off of the three of them, to avoiding creditors, all by way of one disastrous, overreaching business deal.

      ‘Have you ever had caviar, Lucy? Little fish eggs?’ Kathryn asked. Lucy had her back against her mother’s legs and Kathryn held her with crisscrossed arms over Lucy’s chest. Lucy made a face, shaking her head and sticking out her tongue. Kathryn laughed. ‘I think we’ll pass on the caviar, thanks. What else you got in there?’

      ‘Bagels…cream cheese…Cheddar cheese…’ Meg lifted containers and bags out, one by one, but stopped on a large round one. ‘Some, um…’ She held it to the light, tipping it this way and that, the bright red, lumpy contents slopping back and forth inside, ‘…Jell-O. With fruit, one would hope.’ She set it on the counter and dug back into the bag. ‘Pickles, an apple…’ She paused for a fraction of a second, her hand still in the bag. ‘Some fried chicken…’ She set the container on the counter, as if it were a small wounded creature she’d been caring for. She stared at it for a few seconds, then dug back in the bag. ‘…A box of crackers…and…some leftover wild rice.’ Meg set the last items on the counter. Shelly rearranged everything.

      ‘My stuff’s right here,’ said C.C., СКАЧАТЬ