he’d never know about it.
Morgan groaned, stood up, and pitched her paper plate into the already overflowing trash can. Henry craned his neck, looked up, and met her eyes with an expression of pity. He understood that life as she knew it was over.
*
Sophie Long made up her mind that Ruby was coming home, but she didn’t tell Lois until after she visited the prison again. On a cold morning that she and Lois slept in, Sophie decided it was time. Breakfast became brunch, so Sophie made a fresh pot of coffee while Lois started bacon frying. The kitchen was so small it was difficult to keep from bumping into each other. Usually Lois sat and read the paper while Sophie cooked, but this morning Lois hummed as she laid the last strips of bacon in the skillet.
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sophie asked.
“It got down to thirteen degrees last night, and the kitchen’s warm. No draft. No rattling plastic that we can’t see through.”
Sophie nodded. “The new windows.”
“Look at the light in this room. The sun never came through the plastic shrink-wrap like this. I’ll need dark glasses to read the paper.”
They’d installed triple-pane windows in every room—even the spare room—before Christmas. Now that they could afford the huge heating bills, they wouldn’t have them.
Sophie stopped in the middle of the floor. As Lois turned, Sophie kissed her, applying a little more than the usual pressure.
“Are you trying to get in my pants, Miss Long?”
Sophie continued to the refrigerator to get the apple juice. So her back was to Lois when she said, “I’m glad you’re in a good mood. We need to talk about something.”
“You’re not going to wreck it, are you?”
“I hope not.”
A few minutes later they were in their places at the table watching steam rise from their cups.
That was when Sophie said, “We need to bring Ruby home with us when she is paroled.”
Lois stared at Sophie. “I beg your pardon?”
“She can get out in three weeks. But she needs a place to live—a place her parole board will approve. This could be that place.”
“We’ve tried before. It doesn’t work. Do you really want to go through all that pain again?”
“I don’t know.”
Lois raised her voice. “Have you seen her?”
“I have.”
“When? Why?”
“At her invitation, I’ve visited her three times since last October. She’s changed this time, Lo. She really has.”
Lois set her cup of coffee down and took a deep breath. “I don’t understand how you could think this would work. I said I was done with her and I meant it.”
Sophie reached for Lois’s hand, but Lois pulled away. “All I ask is that you think about it.”
Lois’s expression softened. “Look. Forty years ago, in South Vietnam, I brought that child into a world that didn’t want another hungry brown baby. The only thing I could do was bring her home and try to raise her myself, so I did. I lied to immigration. I learned to change diapers, and I walked the floor with her when she had a fever. I built my life around that kid. When I met you, I made sure you understood we were a package deal.”
Sophie waited. She’d heard this speech before. Ruby had run away at the age of fifteen and come home six months later swollen with pregnancy. They had mourned their little girl all those months she’d been missing—the two of them thinking she might be dead. Then they found out she’d been living in a cockroach-infested apartment with her crack-dealing, twenty-year-old boyfriend.
Enraged, Lois told Ruby the baby would be the son of a black bastard and an Asian whore. But when Matt was born, she loved him immediately and fiercely. The day they brought Ruby and Matt home from the hospital, Lois said the cocoa-colored baby with the almond-shaped eyes made their family into a mini-United Nations. He was three weeks old when Ruby left again. That was the first time Sophie heard the speech—but far from the last.
Lois was
Morgan groaned, stood up, and pitched her paper plate into the already overflowing trash can. Henry craned his neck, looked up, and met her eyes with an expression of pity. He understood that life as she knew it was over.
*
Sophie Long made up her mind that Ruby was coming home, but she didn’t tell Lois until after she visited the prison again. On a cold morning that she and Lois slept in, Sophie decided it was time. Breakfast became brunch, so Sophie made a fresh pot of coffee while Lois started bacon frying. The kitchen was so small it was difficult to keep from bumping into each other. Usually Lois sat and read the paper while Sophie cooked, but this morning Lois hummed as she laid the last strips of bacon in the skillet.
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sophie asked.
“It got down to thirteen degrees last night, and the kitchen’s warm. No draft. No rattling plastic that we can’t see through.”
Sophie nodded. “The new windows.”
“Look at the light in this room. The sun never came through the plastic shrink-wrap like this. I’ll need dark glasses to read the paper.”
They’d installed triple-pane windows in every room—even the spare room—before Christmas. Now that they could afford the huge heating bills, they wouldn’t have them.
Sophie stopped in the middle of the floor. As Lois turned, Sophie kissed her, applying a little more than the usual pressure.
“Are you trying to get in my pants, Miss Long?”
Sophie continued to the refrigerator to get the apple juice. So her back was to Lois when she said, “I’m glad you’re in a good mood. We need to talk about something.”
“You’re not going to wreck it, are you?”
“I hope not.”
A few minutes later they were in their places at the table watching steam rise from their cups.
That was when Sophie said, “We need to bring Ruby home with us when she is paroled.”
Lois stared at Sophie. “I beg your pardon?”
“She can get out in three weeks. But she needs a place to live—a place her parole board will approve. This could be that place.”
“We’ve tried before. It doesn’t work. Do you really want to go through all that pain again?”
“I don’t know.”
Lois raised her voice. “Have you seen her?”
“I have.”
“When? Why?”
“At her invitation, I’ve visited her three times since last October. She’s changed this time, Lo. She really has.”
Lois set her cup of coffee down and took a deep breath. “I don’t understand how you could think this would work. I said I was done with her and I meant it.”
Sophie reached for Lois’s hand, but Lois pulled away. “All I ask is that you think about it.”
Lois’s expression softened. “Look. Forty years ago, in South Vietnam, I brought that child into a world that didn’t want another hungry brown baby. The only thing I could do was bring her home and try to raise her myself, so I did. I lied to immigration. I learned to change diapers, and I walked the floor with her when she had a fever. I built my life around that kid. When I met you, I made sure you understood we were a package deal.”
Sophie waited. She’d heard this speech before. Ruby had run away at the age of fifteen and come home six months later swollen with pregnancy. They had mourned their little girl all those months she’d been missing—the two of them thinking she might be dead. Then they found out she’d been living in a cockroach-infested apartment with her crack-dealing, twenty-year-old boyfriend.
Enraged, Lois told Ruby the baby would be the son of a black bastard and an Asian whore. But when Matt was born, she loved him immediately and fiercely. The day they brought Ruby and Matt home from the hospital, Lois said the cocoa-colored baby with the almond-shaped eyes made their family into a mini-United Nations. He was three weeks old when Ruby left again. That was the first time Sophie heard the speech—but far from the last.
Lois was
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