Clock Winder - Anne Tyler [32]
“No, I mean it. If I talked to my children this way they would get upset. Tell them I’m getting old, they’d feel forced to convince me I wasn’t.”
“Oh, well, getting old is one of the things I’m looking forward to,” Elizabeth said. “I’d like the insomnia.”
“The what?”
“The early-morning insomnia. I could have a lot more fun if I didn’t sleep so much.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Emerson. She took half a puff from her cigarette. “Now, a little worry wouldn’t hurt the other children at all, but don’t mention this new doctor to Andrew. He’s subject to anxiety as it is. Sometimes he calls long distance asking if I’m sure I’m all right, wondering about things so specific you know they must have come to him in a dream, either waking or sleeping: have I had any falls recently? am I careful around blades? Well, nowadays we all know what that means, but even so, I don’t want you giving him any grounds for concern.”
“I don’t even know Andrew,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes, but this weekend he’s coming for a visit.”
“No problem, then. I won’t be here.”
“Oh, but you have to be here!” Mrs. Emerson said.
“I’m going home.”
“What? Home?” Mrs. Emerson fumbled her cigarette, dropped it, and caught it in mid-air. “Not for good,” she said.
“No, I just promised my mother I’d visit.”
“Well, that’s impossible,” said Mrs. Emerson. “I mean it. Impossible. I won’t let you go.”
“I’ve put it off for months now. I can’t do it again.”
“You’ll have to.”
“I can’t,” said Elizabeth, and she crammed her cap down tight on her head and began driving with both hands.
“You never asked me about this. I never heard a word.”
“My weekends are my own,” Elizabeth said.
“Oh, listen to you. You’re as set in your ways as an old maid,” said Mrs. Emerson. She ground out her cigarette and then braced herself as they zoomed away from a traffic light. “I should have known better than to rely on you. You or anyone. I should have let Billy buy me a lingerie shop on Roland Avenue, sat there all day the way my friends are doing, drinking gin and writing up the losses for income tax. Much too busy to see my children. Then they’d come home every week; just watch. They only take flight if you show any signs of caring.”
Elizabeth coasted past little Japanese trees that flowered pink and white on the grassy divide. She kept time in her head to faint music from the radio.
“This is all taking place because I mentioned something about appreciating you,” said Mrs. Emerson. “I am cursed with honesty. And where does it get me?”
“What would you want me for anyway?” Elizabeth asked. “I’ve kept even with all my work.”
“No, you don’t understand. I need a—Andrew and I manage better when there’s a buffer, so to speak. Somebody neutral. His brothers are no help at all. Matthew is always in a daze anyway, and Timothy just flies off somewhere. These two weeks he’s having a run of tests, isn’t that typical? I believe he arranged it that way, so that I’d be left alone with—oh, nothing that I say is what I mean. I love Andrew, sometimes I think I might love him best of all. And he’s so much better now. He’s not nearly so—he doesn’t have that—nothing’s really wrong with him, you know.”
Elizabeth peered into her side mirror.
“Why don’t you say something?”
“Just trying to change lanes,” Elizabeth said, and she leaned out the window. “How come this mirror is at such a funny angle?”
“I can’t put the visit off,” said Mrs. Emerson, “because he likes to come when things are in bloom. He’s already missed most of it. I wonder why Timothy can’t study at home? Talk to him, Elizabeth. Make him change his mind.”
“I’m against things like that,” Elizabeth said. “What if I changed his mind and he stayed home and got run over by a truck? What if the house burned down?”
“What?” Mrs. Emerson passed a hand across her forehead. “I’m not in the mood for an outline of your philosophy, Elizabeth. I’m worried. Oh, wouldn’t you think my children could be a little happier?” She waited, as if she really expected an answer. Then