just to walk away with her.
Chapter VIII
Edinburgh Drive
1945 – 1947
We returned to our house on Edinburgh two weeks after the burial. Flo had barely spoken above a whisper since the bloodcurdling scream she let out in the hallway that day. She moved like a sleepwalker through the funeral and the days that followed. I expected Flo to break down when we came home. Instead, she walked from room to room like she was taking inventory.
“ Flo, do you want to see the bathroom? That’s what the man said they call them now instead of washrooms.”
Flo stuck her head in the door hesitantly. She slid the glass door on the tub back and forth. “It’s all right, I reckon. I like pink. A built-in shower, too.”
The new bathroom left no remnant of the old claw foot tub or Miss Lamp. In other rooms, Dottie’s presence filled the house, especially the bedroom with rosebud wallpaper and the living room. Flo settled in on the living room sofa and flipped through pages of Good Housekeeping and American Home .
Perched on the end of the wingback chair next to the couch, I placed my hand on her knee. “Say, how about I call Rosalee? Maybe she can come in and help you this week.”
Flo kept her eyes on the magazine and nodded. “That’s fine.”
The next morning, Flo had not come to bed. She sat in the same spot on the sofa in yesterday’s clothes looking through the same magazines.
I peeked in. “Flo, are you sure you’re all right?”
She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes and said, “I’m just fine.”
I packed my workbag and worried about Flo. She didn’t seem fine to me. Her strange behavior concerned me, and I hated to leave her alone. Flo was a weak person with very little foundation to fall back on. I thought back to the days before Dottie came along, how unpredictable she could be. She didn’t respond when I kissed her the top of her forehead and walked out the door. I stood on the front porch and waited for Rosalee to arrive on the streetcar.
The stout dark-skinned woman held onto the rail and toppled down the streetcar steps. She glanced up at me with a dull expression that didn’t make me feel better about leaving Flo in her care. I walked across the yard to meet her.
“ Morning, Rosalee, I appreciate you coming in this week. You know that Flo’s been through a lot with our daughter’s death and all. Well, she’ll need a little extra support for a while.”
Rosalee crossed her arms and looked past me toward the house. “Nuh-huh.”
I felt awkward around the woman and searched for a way to get through to her. “Well, help her out any way you can, and I’ll add a little extra to your pay on Friday.”
She nodded. I watched her as she went in the front door. Rosalee had the personality of a billy goat. I hoped that the extra money I promised would encourage her to help Flo while I was gone.
I looked forward to getting back to work. I wanted to get there early to thank my railroad family for all they’d done for me and sign up for union meetings. I gave Flo a call on Wednesday night. She sounded fine and still didn’t mention Dottie’s name. Her reaction to Dottie’s death confused me. I mourned out loud and got it out of my system. Flo hadn’t reached that point yet. I was beginning to wonder if and when she would.
When I returned home on Friday, I was welcomed by the first of many little surprises that Flo would throw at me over the years. A new coat of lavender paint covered the living room walls. Emerald green carpet and brand-new compact furniture of the same color filled the room. Large vases of artificial white lilies and cat figurines decorated each end of the mantle. New draperies with big cabbage roses lined the cornices and windows.
Flo floated into the newly decorated room, bright-eyed. She had a new hairstyle and wore a new, perfectly tailored pink suit the color of the cabbage roses. “Well, what do you think? The decorator said it’s the latest style.”
I set my workbag
Chapter VIII
Edinburgh Drive
1945 – 1947
We returned to our house on Edinburgh two weeks after the burial. Flo had barely spoken above a whisper since the bloodcurdling scream she let out in the hallway that day. She moved like a sleepwalker through the funeral and the days that followed. I expected Flo to break down when we came home. Instead, she walked from room to room like she was taking inventory.
“ Flo, do you want to see the bathroom? That’s what the man said they call them now instead of washrooms.”
Flo stuck her head in the door hesitantly. She slid the glass door on the tub back and forth. “It’s all right, I reckon. I like pink. A built-in shower, too.”
The new bathroom left no remnant of the old claw foot tub or Miss Lamp. In other rooms, Dottie’s presence filled the house, especially the bedroom with rosebud wallpaper and the living room. Flo settled in on the living room sofa and flipped through pages of Good Housekeeping and American Home .
Perched on the end of the wingback chair next to the couch, I placed my hand on her knee. “Say, how about I call Rosalee? Maybe she can come in and help you this week.”
Flo kept her eyes on the magazine and nodded. “That’s fine.”
The next morning, Flo had not come to bed. She sat in the same spot on the sofa in yesterday’s clothes looking through the same magazines.
I peeked in. “Flo, are you sure you’re all right?”
She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes and said, “I’m just fine.”
I packed my workbag and worried about Flo. She didn’t seem fine to me. Her strange behavior concerned me, and I hated to leave her alone. Flo was a weak person with very little foundation to fall back on. I thought back to the days before Dottie came along, how unpredictable she could be. She didn’t respond when I kissed her the top of her forehead and walked out the door. I stood on the front porch and waited for Rosalee to arrive on the streetcar.
The stout dark-skinned woman held onto the rail and toppled down the streetcar steps. She glanced up at me with a dull expression that didn’t make me feel better about leaving Flo in her care. I walked across the yard to meet her.
“ Morning, Rosalee, I appreciate you coming in this week. You know that Flo’s been through a lot with our daughter’s death and all. Well, she’ll need a little extra support for a while.”
Rosalee crossed her arms and looked past me toward the house. “Nuh-huh.”
I felt awkward around the woman and searched for a way to get through to her. “Well, help her out any way you can, and I’ll add a little extra to your pay on Friday.”
She nodded. I watched her as she went in the front door. Rosalee had the personality of a billy goat. I hoped that the extra money I promised would encourage her to help Flo while I was gone.
I looked forward to getting back to work. I wanted to get there early to thank my railroad family for all they’d done for me and sign up for union meetings. I gave Flo a call on Wednesday night. She sounded fine and still didn’t mention Dottie’s name. Her reaction to Dottie’s death confused me. I mourned out loud and got it out of my system. Flo hadn’t reached that point yet. I was beginning to wonder if and when she would.
When I returned home on Friday, I was welcomed by the first of many little surprises that Flo would throw at me over the years. A new coat of lavender paint covered the living room walls. Emerald green carpet and brand-new compact furniture of the same color filled the room. Large vases of artificial white lilies and cat figurines decorated each end of the mantle. New draperies with big cabbage roses lined the cornices and windows.
Flo floated into the newly decorated room, bright-eyed. She had a new hairstyle and wore a new, perfectly tailored pink suit the color of the cabbage roses. “Well, what do you think? The decorator said it’s the latest style.”
I set my workbag
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