are going to eat a whole platter of cold cuts, or a whole pie.”
“Okay, that’ll be lunch for me.”
“Good. Who’s called?”
There was a long list, including my mother (naturally), Melinda (no surprise), and Sally Allison, my friend, who was also a newspaper reporter. (Maybe I should say Sally Allison, the newspaper reporter, who was sometimes also my friend. That was definitely more accurate.) I remembered that I’d called Sally to ask her out to lunch, and I’d left a message for her to call me back. Cara Embler, Poppy’s back-fence neighbor, and Teresa Stanton, president of the Uppity Women, had also tried to reach me. And, to my surprise, so had Bryan Pascoe.
Phillip seemed to be pleased that he’d been useful, and he was also happy to have HBO and MTV and lots of food. When I asked him about the state of the bathroom, there was a long moment of silence.
“Um, it’ll be picked up within about ten minutes,” he said defensively.
“Okay,” I said, reminding myself again that I was not his mom. However, I was his older sister, and he needed to do what I asked of him. But for now, I backed off.
“I hope it’s okay that I made a long-distance call on your phone?” he asked.
“Did you call your mother?”
“Okay, make that two long-distance calls.”
“You called your mother and who else?”
“Um, Britta—you know, the girl who gave me a ride?”
I tried to give a mature, balanced answer. “Hell no” would not do. “Phillip, unless you’re calling your parents, I don’t think you should run up my phone bill,” I said, keeping my voice calm and even.
“Hey, if I had any money, I’d pay you back!”
Okay, hostility alert.
“I know you would.” Keep the voice calm and even, Roe. “But since you don’t, you’d better hold off on the phone calls. Does Britta have an E-mail address?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, fine. E-mail her to your heart’s content, but don’t visit any Web sites you have to pay for.”
After a silence, Phillip said, “Okay, I’ll do that from now on.”
I smiled at the patron standing at the counter, who beamed back. So that was a double-purpose smile. I was really pleased at ending the conversation with Phillip on a good note.
I noticed that Janie was staying away from me, which made me happy. I figured she wasn’t as oblivious as she seemed. Perry came in to begin his work hours, and he gave me a pat on the shoulder.
“Sorry about Poppy,” he said. Perry had had a troubled life, but he seemed to have found his foothold now. To my surprise, I’d become his buddy, especially since his recent acknowledgment of his sexual orientation. I felt a little uncomfortable in the role, but I was so happy for Perry—and for his mother, Sally—when I watched his attitude grow more positive and cheerful, his demeanor more confident, I became resigned to assuming it.
“Had a great date last night,” he said casually but very quietly.
“Local?”
“Yes,” he said. “We went to the movies.”
We talked about the film they’d seen, without Perry telling me his date’s name. That was the norm in our conversations.
About fifteen minutes later, Perry’s mom showed up. My friend Sally, who had always been incredibly put together, was beginning to look older. Although her hair color had once been easy to accept as natural, now that seemed increasingly unlikely. I didn’t think she’d gained weight, but what she had was redistributing. She’d saved up for a face-lift, much to my surprise, but I had to wonder if she’d been to the right doctor. Her face looked smooth all right.
But somehow, her skin didn’t look like real skin.
Well, bless her heart. Sally had had a hard life, and she was doing her best.
“Son,” she said coldly, looking at Perry.
“Hey, Mom,” he said.
Uh-oh, trouble in paradise.
Sally asked me if I was ready to go to lunch. It was about 11:15, early for lunch.
“I didn’t know we had a date,” I said. “I called you to
“Okay, that’ll be lunch for me.”
“Good. Who’s called?”
There was a long list, including my mother (naturally), Melinda (no surprise), and Sally Allison, my friend, who was also a newspaper reporter. (Maybe I should say Sally Allison, the newspaper reporter, who was sometimes also my friend. That was definitely more accurate.) I remembered that I’d called Sally to ask her out to lunch, and I’d left a message for her to call me back. Cara Embler, Poppy’s back-fence neighbor, and Teresa Stanton, president of the Uppity Women, had also tried to reach me. And, to my surprise, so had Bryan Pascoe.
Phillip seemed to be pleased that he’d been useful, and he was also happy to have HBO and MTV and lots of food. When I asked him about the state of the bathroom, there was a long moment of silence.
“Um, it’ll be picked up within about ten minutes,” he said defensively.
“Okay,” I said, reminding myself again that I was not his mom. However, I was his older sister, and he needed to do what I asked of him. But for now, I backed off.
“I hope it’s okay that I made a long-distance call on your phone?” he asked.
“Did you call your mother?”
“Okay, make that two long-distance calls.”
“You called your mother and who else?”
“Um, Britta—you know, the girl who gave me a ride?”
I tried to give a mature, balanced answer. “Hell no” would not do. “Phillip, unless you’re calling your parents, I don’t think you should run up my phone bill,” I said, keeping my voice calm and even.
“Hey, if I had any money, I’d pay you back!”
Okay, hostility alert.
“I know you would.” Keep the voice calm and even, Roe. “But since you don’t, you’d better hold off on the phone calls. Does Britta have an E-mail address?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, fine. E-mail her to your heart’s content, but don’t visit any Web sites you have to pay for.”
After a silence, Phillip said, “Okay, I’ll do that from now on.”
I smiled at the patron standing at the counter, who beamed back. So that was a double-purpose smile. I was really pleased at ending the conversation with Phillip on a good note.
I noticed that Janie was staying away from me, which made me happy. I figured she wasn’t as oblivious as she seemed. Perry came in to begin his work hours, and he gave me a pat on the shoulder.
“Sorry about Poppy,” he said. Perry had had a troubled life, but he seemed to have found his foothold now. To my surprise, I’d become his buddy, especially since his recent acknowledgment of his sexual orientation. I felt a little uncomfortable in the role, but I was so happy for Perry—and for his mother, Sally—when I watched his attitude grow more positive and cheerful, his demeanor more confident, I became resigned to assuming it.
“Had a great date last night,” he said casually but very quietly.
“Local?”
“Yes,” he said. “We went to the movies.”
We talked about the film they’d seen, without Perry telling me his date’s name. That was the norm in our conversations.
About fifteen minutes later, Perry’s mom showed up. My friend Sally, who had always been incredibly put together, was beginning to look older. Although her hair color had once been easy to accept as natural, now that seemed increasingly unlikely. I didn’t think she’d gained weight, but what she had was redistributing. She’d saved up for a face-lift, much to my surprise, but I had to wonder if she’d been to the right doctor. Her face looked smooth all right.
But somehow, her skin didn’t look like real skin.
Well, bless her heart. Sally had had a hard life, and she was doing her best.
“Son,” she said coldly, looking at Perry.
“Hey, Mom,” he said.
Uh-oh, trouble in paradise.
Sally asked me if I was ready to go to lunch. It was about 11:15, early for lunch.
“I didn’t know we had a date,” I said. “I called you to
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