Mercury by Margot Livesey Page B

more than a decade.
    I was still waiting for the right moment to suggest that Viv buy a horse of her own, but she was even more distant, a distance only emphasized by meals. While the rest of us ate winter food, pasta and baked potatoes, she ate fish and quinoa. When Marcus and Trina asked why, she said, “I need to be stronger to ride Mercury.”
    â€œBut it’s not kind to eat animals,” said Trina. “We ought to eat less of them.”
    â€œFewer,” said Viv. “What did everyone learn today?”
    Marcus said he’d learned that the Sami have nearly a thousand words to do with reindeer. Trina said she’d learned that her friend Rachel’s mother was whitening her teeth.
    â€œIs that good?” I asked.
    â€œNo, it’s weird. Like there’s a light on in her mouth.”
    I glanced at Viv, hoping to share the pleasure of our daughter’s wit, but she was slicing her tuna.
    D URING THOSE SNOWY WEEKS first Steve, then my mother, asked if something was wrong, leaving the “something” vague. Ask Viv, I told them. Steve, my docile friend, obediently changed the subject, but my mother was more persistent. “What do you mean, ‘Ask Viv’?” she said.
    I was at her house, helping to rearrange the ground-floor room. It was here that I had often joined my father in the late afternoons to drink tea and talk about whatever caught his attention: the best way to boil an egg, the skunks that attacked his garden, Basho’s travels. On one of these afternoons, sitting by the window, he had described the Simurg, a bird in Persian mythology, large enough to lift an elephant. It was very old, and very benevolent. “I picture it having beautiful brown feathers,” he said. “Like an owl. Sometimes, when I’m having a bad day, I wish the Simurg would carry me away.”
    Now I was more sorry than I could admit to see my mother reclaim the room. “Just what I say,” I told her. “Viv’s off on Planet Mercury. I’m the last to know what she’s doing.” I set the cardboard box containing a new bookcase on end and began to cut it open.
    â€œShe loves that horse, doesn’t she?” My mother was kneeling on the other side of the room, surrounded by books. “It’ll be exciting when they start competing.”
    â€œIt’ll be a nightmare when they start competing. She’s already gone all the time. It’s as if she forgets she even has children.” The sound of the blade, pushing through the cardboard, seemed to both echo and amplify my anger.
    â€œWould you say that if she were a man?” Still on her knees, my mother was watching me. “With your father, and your work, and the kids, Viv has come last for years. Then, finally, Edward died. Mercury is an amazing horse, an amazing opportunity. Marcus and Trina won’t feel neglected if you help them understand that.”
    â€œâ€˜Finally’?”
    â€œFinally,” she repeated. “Did you ever wonder what it would be like if your life had revolved around taking care of Viv’s father?”
    â€œBut Dad—” I started to say. But Dad was part of me. But Dad’s illness brought me back to Boston. “No,” I said. “I didn’t.”
    â€œNor did I,” she confessed, “until I started seeing Larry.” While they were in Philadelphia, his wife had fallen and broken her hip. He was convinced it wouldn’t have happened if he had been nearby. “We won’t be leaving town again any time soon.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” I said. “I know you’d love to travel.”
    â€œAnd I will.” She smiled. “Just not with Larry, not now. It’s frustrating, but I admire his loyalty to Jean.” She stood up and came over to inspect the bookcase. “I hope you and Viv can work things out so you both get a part of what you want.”
    â€œI hope so too,”