If The Shoe Fits. Marilynn Griffith

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СКАЧАТЬ I just didn’t care.

      Austin took a coaster without being reminded and rested her can on it. She smiled at me, but made none of the usual chitchat or self-deprecating jokes that Dana provided. Not even any of Tracey’s goofy music and movie trivia that had nothing to do with anything. She just sat there sipping, ready to listen. This was a lot to get used to.

      “Well, I’ll try and make this short,” I said.

      “That’s your call. I’ve got four hours. The husband is fed, kissed and napping in front of ESPN. Pre-season games. He even has snackage. I left a note, but he’ll realize I’ve been gone after I walk back in the door.”

      I made what must have been a horrible face. “Four hours? Please. I don’t talk to anybody that long. Not even God.”

      Austin took another sip of her pop and curled her feet beneath her. “You’d be surprised.”

      Five hours later, I was surprised…and full. I talked about everything from Jordan to the foot washing to the birth. I’d cried and eaten and cried some more. With Austin past due to be home, we were getting to the good part.

      I stared at the clock in horror. “Oh my goodness. You need to go. I’m so sorry—”

      She waved me off. “Double overtime. I called him in the bathroom. He thought I was in the other room on the computer. I will go soon, but we’re okay. What I need to know is, are you okay? You keep talking about everybody else and your concerns for them, but what about you? It’s okay to feel something just for yourself, you know.”

      Was it okay? The thought stunned me. “Haven’t I been talking about me all this time?”

      “No. You’ve been talking about your son, your granddaughter, your son’s father, Tad, the church…Before I go, I need to hear what’s really going on. With you.” She paused. “If you want to go there, that is.”

      My defenses sprang up. My walls. How dare this little skinny blond girl come here and try to tell me to get real about something! What did she know about it?

      A lot, from the look in her eyes. From the patient quietness she’d blessed me with the past few hours. No wonder Dana rambled on about her so much. She had a deep, just-what-you-need faith.

      Sistah faith.

      My true feelings quaked inside me, shook my shoulders. Before I knew it I was crying again and half shouting. “How could my baby have a baby now? What did I do wrong? I prayed, took him to church, went without a man. How could God let this happen?”

      I was up off the couch now, pacing the room. Austin didn’t say a word. She just got up and walked beside me. Poor thing. She’d opened the floodgates now.

      “And Tad. Talking about some beautiful feet. All these years I’ve been standing here dying, trying to serve God only to have people look down on me because I didn’t have a husband, and now this fool wants to try and be good to me?”

      She took my hand, laced my fingers. I didn’t pull away.

      “There was so much more I wanted, but I was trying to do the right things. But it didn’t work, none of it. Jordan is back and instead of fixing everything, he’s messed it all up. Him and his silly girlfriend. I don’t even know that I want him anymore, but he should have tried harder, done more than just propose to some heifer he barely knows—”

      “Yeah.” Austin finally spoke.

      We stopped walking and I tried to breathe. I guess it was time for her to rein me in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say all of that,” I said.

      She shrugged. “It’s okay. You needed to. Everybody needs to bleed. That’s what friends are for. The thing is making sure the wound is clean after. It’s the infection that can kill you.”

      This time I took her hand. We walked to the couch, the one unused until today and knelt there together. I bowed my head.

      “Let’s pray,” Austin whispered.

      “Mom, I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

      I stared at my son through bleary eyes, spotting his face across his daughter’s crib. Moriah, my sweet pea of a granddaughter, had been crying nonstop for thirty minutes. It was four in the morning. “Actually, this is the easy part. They sleep a lot at the beginning.” My arms extended to take her from him.

      Jericho swiped at his chin. “This is a lot of sleep?”

      Moriah snuggled into my robe, no doubt looking for milk I didn’t have. “This baby does well. You kept me up most of the night until you were five years old. If it wasn’t for Dana, I don’t know how—”

      “I’m sorry.” He dropped into the rocking chair I’d brought down from the attic, the one I’d rocked him in. It was still functional, but as creaky as his voice.

      “Don’t be. This is what it’s all about. There were great moments, too. Being a parent is the most difficult and the most rewarding job I’ve ever had. The shop, my faith, most of who I am—it’s all somehow tied to making a better life for you.”

      He scrubbed his eyes. “But it could have been easier if Dad had been there, huh?”

      I paced to the door and back again. “I try not to think in could-haves, honey, but yes, I suppose it might have been easier with your father around, but then again, maybe not.”

      With a final wail, Moriah went limp against me.

      “Finally,” I whispered, starting toward the crib.

      My son held out his hand, shook his head. “I’ll walk her a little more. Until she’s asleep for real.”

      Asleep for real? I stared down at her closed angel eyes, tiny chest rising and falling. What was this, fake sleep? I didn’t dare ask. I wanted to tell him that even if she woke up she’d go back down again, just like he always had, but that would be parenting advice, which I’d promised myself not to give. Though I still think parents who live with their parents need all the advice they can get.

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