17
The following day was spent preparing the recreation center for Michael’s speech. We hung flag bunting, which I borrowed from our country club’s Fourth of July decorations, set out the folding chairs, and placed a mimeographed fact sheet on each chair.
Three hours before the event, I looked around. Everything was ready. I straightened one of the fact sheets, stopping to study the slightly purple photograph. We would need to start getting things professionally printed. But that was a concern for later, when we found the money for it. Michael would need a new set of headshots too, I thought, looking at the smudgy ink. He wasn’t smiling and looked too stoic.
Then I went home for an hour to kiss the children, eat a quick meal, and change my clothes before the main event.
“You’re never home,” my mother said by way of greeting.
“I just started work. We’ll get the interns trained up, and it won’t be so bad.”
“At least when I was married to your father, I had help around the house.”
I finished chewing the roll I had shoved into my mouth. “Feel free to hire help—you’ve got the money to pay for it.”
“Honestly, Beverly—”
“Mama, I’m happy to discuss this with you later. But for now, know that I appreciate you.” It was true. But I also didn’t need her picking up and leaving like she had done with Papa. Not that she had anyone else to go to—my brother lived in New York, and after thirty years in DC, I didn’t see her making that move easily.
Besides, she referred to her daughter-in-law as “that woman.” She’d happily eat glass before moving in with them.
She muttered something under her breath but allowed me to kiss her on the cheek before I went into the living room to sneak a quick cuddle from the kids, both of whom protested that they were watching television.
“Did you even notice I was gone today?” I asked them. Neither replied. Apparently fighting off snuggles was the only reply I would get while the television was on.
“Don’t let them watch TV all night,” I called to my mother.
“You have too many rules,” Mama said. “Children don’t have to follow them at their grandmother’s house.”
“This isn’t your house.”
“It is now.”
“If that were the case, I wouldn’t have to go back to work tonight, would I?” I asked.
“I think you should talk to an actual lawyer—Larry is required to support you.”
She had a point. But there was also the matter of the charge card that I was legally entitled to use for “necessities,” and I wasn’t sure new wallpaper counted. And I also didn’t know if he was required to support me in the same house that I had been living in. “I’ll find a lawyer,” I said.
“How late will you be?”
We had to be out of the recreation center by nine. “Ten at the latest.”
“Maybe you should have stayed at the lipstick counter and worked normal hours.”
I looked at my mother pointedly. “ Someone made a scene about that as I recall.” I checked the clock on the wall. I really needed a new watch. “I’ve got to go. Thank you, Mama.”
She continued to grumble as I grabbed my handbag. “Take the car,” she said finally, speaking clearly enough for me to understand her. “I don’t want you riding the bus at night.”
“What would I do without you?” I asked.
She gestured to me with her cigarette. “Just you remember that.”
I blew her a kiss and left.