Breathing Lessons (1989 Pulitzer Prize) - Anne Tyler [121]
Maggie said, "What do you like for dessert, Leroy?" "The thing of it is," Ira said, "this is Saturday night. What if Jesse has other plans and he can't make supper?" "But he can make supper, Ira; I already told you that." "Or if he has to leave right after. I mean what are we doing here, Maggie? We don't have any toys anymore or any sports equipment and our TV is on the blink. We don't have anything to keep a child occupied. And would you please face forward and fasten your seat belt? You're making me nervous." "I'm just trying to figure out what to buy for dessert," Maggie said. But she turned around and reached for her seat belt. "Your daddy's favorite dessert is mint chocolate chip ice cream," she told Leroy.
"Oh, mine too," Leroy said.
Fiona said, "What are you talking about? You hate mint chocolate chip." "I love it," Leroy told her.
"You absolutely do not!" "Yes, I do, Ma. It was only when I was little I didn't like it." "Well, you must have been little just last week, then, missy." Maggie said hastily, "What other flavors do you like, Leroy?" "Well, fudge ripple, for instance," Leroy said.
"Oh, what a coincidence! Jesse is crazy about fudge ripple." Fiona rolled her eyes. Leroy said, "Really? I think fudge rippie is just excellent." "I have seen you go without any dessert whatsoever if the only choice was mint chocolate chip ice cream," Fiona told Leroy.
"You don't know every little thing about me!" Leroy cried.
Fiona said, "Geeze, Leroy," and slumped down low in her seat with her arms tightly folded.
They were in Maryland now, and Maggie imagined that the country here looked different-more luxurious. The hillsides, emptied of livestock, had turned a deep, perfect green, and in the faded light the long white fences gave off a moony glimmer. Ira was whistling "Sleepytime Gal." Maggie couldn't think why, for a second. Did it signify he was tired, or what? But then she realized he must still have his mind on Leroy's baby days. That was the song they used to sing her to sleep with-he and Maggie, harmonizing. Maggie leaned her head against the back of the seat and silently followed the lyrics as he whistled.
When you're a stay-at-home, play-at-home, eight-o 'clock Sleepytime gal. . .
All at once she looked down at her wrist and saw that she wore two watches. One was her regular watch, a little Timex, and the other was a big old chunky man's watch with a wide leather band. In fact, it belonged to her father, but it had been lost or broken years ago. The face was a rectangle, pinkish, and the numerals were a pale blue that would glow in the dark. She cupped her hand over her wrist and bent close, making a little cave of darkness so she could see the numbers light up. Her fin- gers smelled of bubble gum. Beside her, Serena said, "Just another five minutes, that's all I ask. If nothing happens by then, I promise we can go." Maggie raised her head and stared through the leaves at the two stone lions across the street. Between them lay a white sidewalk, curving across an immaculate lawn and arriving finally at a stately brick colonial house, and within the house lived the man who was Serena's father. The front door was the kind without a window, without even those tiny glass panes that are placed too high to be useful. Maggie wondered how Serena could stare so intently at something so blank and ungiving. They were crouched uncomfortably among the twisted branches of a rhododendron bush. Maggie said, "That's what you told me half an hour ago. No one's going to come." Serena laid a hand on her arm, hushing her. The door was swinging open. Mr. Barrett stepped out and then turned back to say something. His wife appeared, tugging at her gloves. She wore a slim brown dress with long sleeves, and Mr. Barren's suit was almost the same shade of brown. Neither Maggie nor Serena had even seen him in anything but a suit, not even on weekends. He was like a dollhouse doll, Maggie