Prodigal Summer - Barbara Kingsolver [107]
Lusa found no words; she could only shake her head from side to side.
“Aunt Hannie-Mavis’s been taking her to Roanoke for these treatments. I only know that because she brings both their kids over for Mom and my sisters to baby-set when they go. They never told me anything, really, I just put two and two together.”
“They haven’t told me, either,” Lusa said. “I knew something serious was wrong. Damn it, I knew that, and they won’t even let me help.” Her voice cracked. She felt flushed and weak-kneed from this awful news and feared that if she started to cry she might not stop. He put his arm around her. Just from the simple comfort of that gesture, tears flooded her eyes.
“They don’t want to put more worries on you,” he said. “You’ve already been through the worst there is.”
“Not the worst. I’m still alive.”
“I think it’d be worse losing the person you love than dying yourself.”
To her embarrassment, this made her cry helplessly. He was so young, how could he know that? She pressed her face against the cotton of his white T-shirt and the warmth of his chest and let herself stay there, sobbing, wishing she could fly away from here. In her mind she could easily picture it: throwing things in a suitcase, books and clothes, practically nothing—she’d leave behind all the heavy family furniture. Just run down the steps and away. But those two children were on the landing with their backs to her, impossible to get around. They stopped her.
Rick had been standing silent for a long while, she realized, holding her patiently, stroking her hair with his other hand. She took a breath.
“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling her face away and avoiding his eyes.
“Don’t be. It got my arm around you for a minute. I’d like to do more than that: I’d like to fix your whole barn roof.” He put his finger under her chin and to Lusa’s utter shock leaned down and kissed her very quickly on the lips.
“Rick,” she said, feeling some form of hysteria rise through her body, “Little Rickie. I’m your aunt. For God’s sakes.” This was like a movie, she thought. The woman with no desire left in her, pursued for an evening by every man.
“I’m sorry,” he said, really meaning it. He actually took a step back from her. “Oh, Lord, that was dumb. Don’t be mad. I don’t know what I was thinking, OK?”
She laughed. “I’m not mad. And I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at me. You’re a very handsome man. Your girlfriend is very lucky to have you.”
He didn’t comment on that. He was looking at her, trying to guess what damage he’d done. “You won’t, like, tell anybody, will you?”
“No, of course not. Who would I tell?” She smiled, shaking her head and wiping her eyes with her palm. “Here’s the really funny thing: your dad was considering making the same pass half an hour ago.”
“My dad? Him and you?”
“Don’t act so shocked. Is that any worse than you and me?”
But now he was angry. “Goddamn, my dad! He didn’t get anywhere, did he? I mean, what did he try?”
She regretted her indiscretion; she’d forgotten somehow that this was a child and his father. Lusa had no instincts for such things—she wasn’t a mother. “He didn’t really try anything,” she amended calmly. “He didn’t get past the planning stages.”
“Man! That old lech,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “And now look at him. He’s up there jacking off in front of everybody with bottle rockets instead.”
“You’re very bad.”
“I am.”
“But you’re right. I guess I’d better go supervise the show. So I can write up a good report for the insurance after they burn the place down.”
He touched her shoulder, stopping her. “Just don’t be mad, OK. I like us being friends, Aunt Lusa. I’m sorry I messed up.”
“Rick, I’m not mad.” She looked at her hands and clinked her bottles together, hesitating. She still felt startled by the taste of his mouth, the smoke and human pungency that had struck through her numbness into some living place at her core. “You know something? I’m lonely, I’m losing my mind, and it felt so good to have