A Thousand Acres_ A Novel - Jane Smiley [44]
It was nearly six when we got into the car. The pool was still crowded; Pike was deserted, air conditioners humming, blinds drawn. Occasional grills on patios ventilated eastward-pointing arrows of smoke. I felt shocked and dull. Supper, Daddy, Rose wondering when the children would be getting home, Ty’s patience, all seemed exceptionally remote. The girls sat quietly, both in the backseat. Pammy’s sunglasses had been put carefully in their case, and she was holding that in her hand. I knew that all children had certain precious belongings, odd things that represented happiness to them, but the way she cradled that case in her hand seemed poignant to me, emblematic of some sort of deprivation that she could feel but not define, or, maybe, admit to. I must have sighed, because Linda sat forward and said, “We had a good time, Aunt Ginny. Anyway, next time, I’m going to call someone and ask them to meet me there.”
14
WHEN WE GOT HOME, Ty and Pete were installing a new room air conditioner in one of the north-facing windows of our living room. They were just setting it on the platform they had nailed out from the windowsill, lifting and grunting and telling each other what to do. I herded the girls into the kitchen, where I found Rose drying the last lettuce of the season for a salad. She said, “Jess’s coming over at seven. I fed Daddy. He was bound and determined to eat smack on the dot at five, even though I told him he should come over here and eat with all of us.”
“It’s your night to have him at your house.”
“Yes, and this is what I decided that our family was going to do. You know, it’s pretty crazy to have to do the same thing every Friday, week after week, same food, same time. It would have been good for him—”
She looked at me. I must have had some look on my face, because she said, “He’s rigid like this because we’ve let him be.”
Then she said, “He’s fed, okay?”
I nodded.
She went on. “And I made hamburgers. They’re in the refrigerator. The grill is going, so we can put them on anytime.” The girls crowded against her and she pecked the tops of their heads.
I said, “New air conditioner?”
“Almost new. There was an ad in the paper. Ty drove over to Zebulon Center to pick it up. He said he saw you at the pool, but he couldn’t get your attention.”
I must have looked doubtful, because she said, “Don’t say anything about sinus passages or getting used to the heat, the way Daddy does. People shouldn’t be so hot. It’s bad for them and it’s dangerous.” Pammy started picking at the salad. Rose let her take one cherry tomato, then shooed her away. “Go on outside and wash your hair under the outside spigot. With shampoo. I can smell the chlorine.” Pammy shuffled away. She looked the way I felt, used up but strengthened by the unaccustomed exercise, already aimed toward a good night’s sleep. I said, “They were good. Mary Livingstone came over and made Linda—” when the phone rang. Rose opened the refrigerator and took out a plate of thick patties, and I picked up the receiver. It was Caroline.
The Sunday that I’d sworn to call her had gone by without me calling her. For one thing, I hadn’t been able to get over my reluctance about calling her at the office. And then the evenings had been swept up in the Monopoly games. And then I’d persuaded myself that she’d call when she felt like it. Out driving three times,