Breathing Lessons (1989 Pulitzer Prize) - Anne Tyler [126]
"I just brought Leroy to visit you two. I don't care if he comes." "Well, of course you don't." Fiona sat down heavily in a kitchen chair and threw her purse on the table. Like the most formal of guests, she was carrying that purse with her from room to room; some things never changed. Maggie sighed and began unpacking the groceries. She put the ice cream in the freezer, and then she slit open both packs of chicken and dumped them into a bowl. "What kind of vegetables does Leroy like?" she asked.
Fiona said, "Hmm? Vegetables?" She didn't seem to have her mind on the question. She was gazing at the wall calendar, which still showed the month of August. Oh, this wasn't a very organized house, not that Fiona had any right to complain. The counters seemed to collect stray objects on their own. The cupboards were filled with dusty spice bottles and cereal boxes and mismatched dishes. Drawers sagged open, exposing a jumble of belongings. One drawer caught Maggie's eye, and she went over to riffle through the layers of papers stuffed inside. "Now, somewhere here," she said, "I could almost swear . . ." She came across a PTA announcement. A torn-out recipe for something called Amazin' Raisin Pie. A packet of get-well cards that she'd been hunting since the day she bought them. And then, "Aha," she said, holding up a flier.
"What is it?" "Picture of Jesse as a grownup. For Leroy." She brought it over to Fiona: a darkly photocopied photo of the band. Lorimer was sitting in front with his drums and Jesse stood behind, his arms draped loosely around the necks of the other two, Dave and what's-his-name. All wore black. Jesse had his eyebrows knitted in a deliberate scowl. SPIN THE CAT was printed in furry, tiger-striped letters beneath their picture, and a blank space at the bottom allowed for a specific time and place to be written in by hand.
"Of course it doesn't do him justice," Maggie said. "These rock groups always try to look so, I don't know, so surly; have you noticed? Maybe I should just show her the snapshot I carry in my wallet. He isn't smiling there, either, but at least he's not frowning." Fiona took the flier to study it more closely. "How funny," she said. "Everyone's just the same." "Same?" "I mean they were always going to be going somewhere; didn't you always think so? They had such high-and-mighty plans. And they used to keep changing so, changing their views of music. Why, one time Leroy asked me just what kind of songs her daddy played, new wave or punk or heavy metal or what, exactly-I think she wanted to impress her friends-and I said, 'Lordy, by now it could be anything; I wouldn't have the foggiest notion.' But just look at them." "Well? So?" Maggie said. "What's to look at?" "Lorimer's still got his hair fixed in that silly shag haircut with the tail down the back of his neck that I was always dying to chop off," Fiona said. "They're still wearing the same style of clothes, even. Same old-fashioned Hell's Angels style of clothing." "Old-fashioned?" Maggie asked.
"You could picture how they'll get to be forty and still playing together on weekends when their wives will let them, playing for Rotary Club get-togethers and such." It bothered Maggie to hear this, but she didn't let on. She turned back to her bowl of chicken.
Fiona said, "Who was it he brought to dinner?" "Pardon?" "You said he brought this woman to dinner one time." Maggie glanced over at her. Fiona was still holding the photo, gazing at it with a bemused expression. "Nobody important," Maggie said.
"Well, who?" "Just some woman he'd met someplace; we've been through a lot of those. Nobody long-term." Fiona set the photo down on the table, but she went on looking at it.
Out in the living room, ragged