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.But people fall into habits, as if they are deep, dark pits.Jeanie had always felt in competition with Katherine, her sister-in-law, the smart one who taught English and watched those boring operas and ballets on the educational channel while the rest of the family was having a barbecue in the backyard.Jeanie had been the one to quickly clear away the dishes from the picnic table while the men sat in lawn chairs and smoked, or told a few stories about cars and sports, and waited for the rest of the day to unfurl.Jeanie had been the one to help Frances clean up the kitchen, the greasy pans, the flour on the counter, the mud tracked in upon the floor by grandkids.And Jeanie had liked the way Frances would peer into the living room at Katherine, who was pirouetting and doing whatever ballerinas do, along with the program on television, oblivious to any domestic work taking place in the kitchen.Frances would roll her eyes up to the ceiling, and Jeanie knew what it meant.It meant us against her, it meant you’re the perfect daughter-in-law, Jeanie.How many years had it been that Jeanie quit caring about this? Many, and yet here she was, operating on a kind of automatic pilot, a lifetime of habit.“Remember how much Henry loved my biscuits?” Frances asked, as she put the baker sheet on the counter.“Be sure to heat this stew on the stove.That’s what I always do.I wish they’d never invented the microwave.It just spoils food is what it does.” She set the small pot of stew on a back burner of the stove.Jeanie said nothing as she opened the refrigerator and got out a pitcher of lemonade she’d made that morning.She hadn’t really wanted it, but she knew the lemons were in that bin opposite the one Chad was using.This seemed a good reason to go rummaging in the bottom of the fridge.And while she was down there, why not check to see what Chad was up to? The cans of beer were gone.“Did Lisa find out what the baby’s going to be?” Frances asked.Jeanie smiled at the thought of Lisa becoming a mother, of a little baby smelling of talcum powder.“She called last night,” said Jeanie.“It’s going to be a girl.” Frances smiled, too, and it seemed an honest-to-God smile this time, genuine and pure.“Do you know what Lawrence said?” she asked.She waited until Jeanie shook her head.“I told him that Lisa had decided to go ahead and find out what the baby was going to be.He said, if it’s a girl, she might be the first female Munroe to work for the post office.”“That’s a long way in the future,” said Jeanie.“But it could happen.” Much had been made at family functions of how this particular line of Munroes seemed to produce all male descendants, at least until Lisa came along.It was as if something in the Munroe DNA understood that there was a great need for mailmen.“My mother was good at telling what a baby would be,” said Frances.“She’d take a needle and thread out and dangle it over your wrist.If it went back and forth in a straight line, it was a boy.If it made circles, it was a girl.It worked pretty well, believe it or not.”Jeanie put a glass of lemonade in front of Frances and then sat across the table from her.Sat, and waited.They had been doing this twice a week for the whole year that Henry had been gone.At times, Jeanie knew what prisoners feel like when they get visitors.They sit and stare, incapable of real communication, incapable sometimes of even touch.They sit and stare and wait for the visit to be over.“Well?” Frances asked finally.Jeanie thought about what she was going to say.She wanted to be sure she worded it just so, knowing Frances was capable of reading volumes into a thin sentence.“I think he’s just going through a bad time,” said Jeanie.“He didn’t say, but I think it’s as much about Jonathan as it is about Henry.Have you seen the picture he’s got on the dresser? It’s of him holding Jon as a baby.”Frances ran a forefinger around the rim of her glass.She dabbed at the beads of sweat on the side of it.Then she turned to watch chickadees as they flitted down to the feeder just outside the window.Finally, she put her gaze on the pot of beef stew sitting on the stove.“If you’re not going to have that until supper,” said Frances, “maybe you should stick it in the fridge.”.Larry poured from the plastic bottle of Coke until the paper cup on his desk was filled to the top.He opened the envelope, careful not to spill any of the drink on it.This one was special, too special to treat like ordinary mail.Dear Aunt Jeanie,Thank you for the birthday money.Grandma and Grandpa sent me money, too, and so did Dad.I used it to pay for my karate uniform.And I bought Monsters, Inc.It’s my favorite movie.I miss my dad, but my mom says I can go home for Thanksgiving.How is Chad? School is okay if you like school which I don’t.I have to go to karate class now.Love, JonathanLarry put the single sheet of paper up to his nose and smelled it, hoping there was something of his son attached to it, something more than the mere shape of letters and words.He wanted to sense the flesh and blood of the boy.He wanted to hold him again in his arms, feel the small and sturdy bones pressed into his chest, the silky hair touching his face.They had been talking by phone twice a week, and that was good.But it was not enough.Larry had asked several times if he could drive to Portland for even a quick visit, but his request had been denied by Katherine and her team of lawyers—well, maybe she had just one lawyer, but he was a high-powered divorce lawyer, and from Larry’s corner of the ring, Katherine and any lawyer would make a formidable team.Especially since Larry was alone in his corner.How could he afford a lawyer? After paying child support and the old bills he and Katherine had accrued in their marriage, and fifty dollars a week rent to his parents—who hadn’t wanted it but Larry insisted—he couldn’t afford to buy Monsters, Inc., even if it had been his favorite movie too.The few dollars he had to spare went to the beers he drank at Murphy’s and the modest tip he left for Evie [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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