Breathing Lessons (1989 Pulitzer Prize) - Anne Tyler [3]
"It was a great big huge Pepsi truck," Maggie said. "It was practically an armored tank! I bet I didn't so much as scratch it." "But you never checked to make sure." "I was worried I'd be late," Maggie said. "You're the one who insisted on allowing extra travel time." "You realize the body-shop people have your name and address, don't you? All that driver has to do is ask them. We're going to find a policeman waiting for us on our doorstep." "Ira, will you drop it?" Maggie asked. "Don't you see I have a lof on my mind? I'm heading toward the funeral of my oldest, dearest friend's husband; no telling what Serena's dealing with right now, and here I am, a whole state away. And then on top of that I have to hear it on the radio that Fiona's getting married, when it's plain as the nose on your face she and Jesse still love each other. They've always loved each other; they never stopped; it's just that they can't, oh, connect, somehow. And besides that, my one and only grandchild is all at once going to have to adjust to a brand-new stepfather. I feel like we're just flying apart! All my friends and relatives just flying off from me like the ... expanding universe or something! Now we'll never see that child, do you realize that!" "We never see her anyhow," Ira said mildly. He braked for a red light.
"For all we know, this new husband could be a mo-lester," Maggie said.
"I'm sure Fiona would choose better than that, Maggie." ~She. shot him a look. (It wasn't like him to say anything good about Fiona.) He was peering up at the traffic light. Squint lines radiated from the corners of his eyes. "Well, of course she would try to choose well," Maggie said carefully, "but even the most sensible person on God's earth can't predict every single problem, can she? Maybe he's somebody smooth and suave. Maybe he'll treat Leroy s just fine till he's settled into the family." The light changed. Ira drove on.
"Leroy," Maggie said reflectively. "Do you think we'll ever get used to that name? Sounds like a boy's name. Sounds like a football player. And the way they pronounce it: Lee-ray. Country." "Did you bring that map I set out on the breakfast table?" Ira asked.
"Sometimes I think we should just start pronouncing it our way," Maggie said. "Le-roy." She considered.
"The map, Maggie. Did you bring it?" "It's in my purse. Le Rwah," she said, gargling the R like a Frenchman.
"It's not as if we still had anything to do with her," Ira said.
"We could, though, Ira. We could visit her this very afternoon." "Huh?" "Look at where they live: Cartwheel, Pennsylvania. It's practically on the road to Deer Lick. What we could do," she said, digging through her purse, "is go to the funeral, see, and . . . Oh, where is that map? Go to the funeral and then head back down Route One to ... You know, I don't think I brought that map after all." "Great, Maggie." "I think I left it on the table." "I asked you when we were setting out, remember? I said, 'Are you going to bring the map, or am I?' You said, 'I am. I'll just stick it in my purse.' " "Well, I don't know why you're making such a fuss about it," Maggie said. "All we've got to do is watch the road signs; anyone could manage that much." "It's a little more complicated than that," Ira said.
"Besides, we have those directions Serena gave me over the phone." "Maggie. Do you honestly believe any directions of Serena's could get us where we'd care to go? Ha! We'd find ourselves in Canada someplace. We'd be off in Arizona!" "Well, you don't have to get so excited about it." "We would never see home again," Ira said.
Maggie shook her billfold and a pack of Kleenex from her purse.
"Serena's the one who made us late for her own wedding reception, remember that?" Ira said.