Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [11]
After that one glance in the mirror, Mom didn’t look back again. But I did. This would be the last time I’d ever see my father, so I kept on watching until I couldn’t see him anymore. The image of him weeping on the steps was branded on my brain, sizzling red hot and smoking until, at length, these few weeks later, it had begun to solidify into a scar.
Tillie and I finally reached Grand Avenue, the wagon bumping over the cracks of the sidewalk behind us. When we came to Marie’s Apparel, I stopped and looked in the window, cupping my face with my hands. I hoped to catch a glimpse of Mom, who’d been working there almost a week now, selling handbags and handkerchiefs to the ladies of Mills River.
“Mommy?” Valerie asked.
“She’s in there somewhere,” I said, “but I can’t see her.”
Tillie went on pulling the wagon but called back over her shoulder, “Did you need to ask her something, Roz?”
“No. I just thought I’d wave if I saw her.”
Tillie shook her head, clicked her tongue. “Pity, such a sweet young lady as your mother having to work. Women should be able to stay home and take care of their children.”
I hurried to catch up with her. “You know, you don’t have to pity us, Tillie.”
“I know I don’t,” she said, “but I do.”
“Well, how come?”
“Because you don’t have a man to take care of you.”
“We don’t need a man to take care of us. Anyway, we have Wally. He’s working.”
“Wally’s a boy.”
“He’s almost eighteen.”
“He’s still a boy. He has a long way to go before he’s a man.”
“Why do we need a man? Women can do anything men can do.”
“You sound like you’ve been reading Betty Friedan.”
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“She’s one of those women’s libbers – ” Tillie stopped herself and chuckled. “Never mind. Still, you know, this isn’t how it was meant to be. Men leaving their families, women having to work while raising their children alone. Something crazy’s happening to our country, and I don’t like it.”
“Daddy didn’t leave us, you know. Mom left him.”
Tillie seemed to think about that a moment. Then she said, “Well, either which way, I think it’s a tragedy when men and women don’t stay together. But then, I don’t know what happened between your mother and father, and it’s none of my business, is it?”
“No, it isn’t.”
“But someday you’ll tell me about it. When you’re ready.”
“What makes you think I’ll ever tell you about it?”
“Because that’s what family does, confide in each other.”
“We’re not family.”
“No, not yet.”
“We’ll never be related.”
“It isn’t blood that makes you family, Roz.”
“Maybe not. But living in the same house doesn’t make you family either.”
Tillie shrugged and said, as though it were pertinent, “Well, someday your mother will marry someone else.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because she’s young and pretty, and I can’t imagine her living the rest of her life alone.”
It had never occurred to me that Mom might remarry. I didn’t like the thought. We already had one stranger living in our house; I didn’t want another, especially a man.
At the intersection of Grand Avenue and Third Street we turned right on Third and walked one more block to Jewel Food Store. By the time we reached the front doors, I was tired and hot and ready for the cool of the air-conditioned aisles. We hadn’t brought the car, not because Tillie didn’t drive, because she did, but because she wanted to help Mom save on gas money. In fact, Mom had told her to take the car. “Someone your age shouldn’t be walking in this