Maine - J. Courtney Sullivan [159]
“What would you prefer I say?” Alice said. “That she’s a little tramp like her mother, has absolutely no common sense, and has just flushed her chances at being a real writer down the toilet?”
Now the priest spoke up. “Alice,” he said, as if her words had caused him physical pain.
Kathleen’s hands formed two tight fists.
“None of that is true. You apologize or we’re leaving.”
“No. I won’t.”
“You are such a hateful person. God, I’ve only been here a few hours and I already want to kill you.”
Alice raised her voice. “Do you know what I sacrificed to be a mother?”
“Oh, because you were going to be some great artist?” Kathleen shouted. “News flash, Mom, you really weren’t that talented. None of us stopped you from becoming anything. That was a stupid childish dream like everyone has. Boo hoo, I never became an astronaut.”
“Stop it,” Maggie said softly. “You’re being cruel.”
Well, maybe so, but Kathleen had only been trying to protect her.
Kathleen turned to Ann Marie. “Thanks for butting in.”
“I’ve been a part of this family for thirty-five years, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Ann Marie said.
“That’s quite a claim to fame,” Kathleen said. “Congrats.”
“I don’t ask for very much,” Ann Marie said. “I’m here to take care of her all the time, while you’re living out your strange boyfriend’s dream in California. And for what? You’ve had it in for me since the day we met, admit it. You never thought I was good enough for your brother. You don’t like the way I treat your mother. Well, she’s all yours now. I wash my hands of this.”
And with that, she stormed out of the house. They all watched her go. She got into the Mercedes and backed it out of the driveway fast. Kathleen remembered now how up in Maine everyone left their keys in the car, a way to emphasize the safety of this place. Was it really such a burden to pull the keys out of your purse when you wanted to go somewhere?
“Should she be driving?” Maggie asked.
“No,” Kathleen said.
“I need a cocktail,” Alice said. Then she smiled at Maggie. “Oh, that’s why you haven’t been drinking. Thank God.”
The priest shifted awkwardly. “I’m so sorry if I’ve caused any trouble. Alice, should we talk about all of this later?”
Alice continued on like he had never spoken. “Well, I hope she’ll come back so I can calm her down,” she said, as if she were known for her calming influence. “Come along, Father. I’ll walk you to your car. You’ve probably had enough of our family’s insanity for one day. I’m sorry you had to witness that.”
They walked off, and Kathleen said, “You must just be basking in the warmth of all the family support, huh?”
Maggie nodded. “That went better than I’d expected, actually.” She paused. “Did you know about the house?”
“When do I ever know what Alice is up to?” Kathleen asked.
“Do you think she actually gave it to the church for real?”
Kathleen could see the worry in her daughter’s face. Her only daughter, who she loved more than anyone. She hunched down, bending at her knees, so that she was facing Maggie’s stomach. “You’re coming into a very strange family, little one,” she said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Maggie smiled and Kathleen wished it were that easy, that she could somehow just accept this, when she knew she couldn’t. She wanted to tell Maggie she was grounded until she agreed to come to California and live there for as long as it took. But she told herself they could discuss it later. For now, they’d have something resembling peace.
“Will you let me take you to that restaurant?” Kathleen asked.
“Okay,” Maggie said, looking forlornly toward her simmering pot of tomato sauce. She shut off the burner. “I guess we can have it tomorrow.”
“Hurry up and let’s run before Alice comes back.”
“Mom, that’s so mean.”
“Oh, just come on.”
When they returned home later that night, Ann Marie’s car was back in the driveway. Either she and Alice had reconciled, or they had killed each other. Through the back bedroom window, Kathleen could see clear into Alice’s den next door, but she couldn’t make either of them out.
“So nice that the whole