Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [21]
John Monroe’s round face was crimson; he was waving a newspaper in the air. “I didn’t come for supper, Mother.”
He glanced at me and nodded politely as he loosened his tie. The day was warm, and his full-length sleeves were rolled up past his elbows.
“What’s the matter now, son?” Tillie turned to the sink and started filling a large pot with water.
“Have you seen today’s paper?”
“Haven’t had time to read it. What’s Johnson gone and done now?”
“President Johnson has nothing to do with this, Mother. The question is, what have you gone and done now?”
“Oh dear, don’t tell me I’ve landed on the obituary page again. You remember how your father nearly died that time he opened the paper and there was my picture among the deceased. My picture, no less.”
“No, Mother, no. It’s not that. It’s this.” He pointed to a block of print surrounded by a black border on the bottom of the front page. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Tillie lifted the pot of water to the stove and turned on the burner. She glanced at the paper in her son’s hand and nodded briefly. “Oh yes, that’s my advertisement. Winston said he’d run it for me sometime this week. I had no idea he’d run it on the front page! Now, isn’t that something?”
“You’ve run an ad in the paper telling everyone you’ve come back home?”
Tillie nodded. “Smart, huh? It was Roz’s idea, actually. That way I don’t have to keep repeating myself; you know, explaining why I’m here and not at St. Claire’s. Now the whole town knows in one fell swoop.”
Johnny Monroe turned his wide and by now nearly maniacal eyes toward me. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt the color drain from my face as I took a step backward. I started to shake my head, to deny any part in this strange affair, but by the time I opened my mouth to speak, Johnny Monroe had already turned back to his mother.
“And you’ve invited the whole town to your welcome home party?”
“What?” Tillie was breaking up vermicelli noodles to be dropped into the water once it boiled. “What welcome home party?”
“It says here you’re having a welcome home party, potluck, everyone invited. And it says it’s today, Friday, September first, at six o’clock.”
“Merciful heavens!” Tillie whirled around and grabbed the paper from Johnny’s hand. She glanced up at the clock, then back down at the paper. “I never said anything to Winston about a welcome home party. Six o’clock? That’s an hour from now!”
“So you’re not throwing a party?”
“No. Well, yes, I guess I am. That Winston Newberry! What came over him, putting in something like that?”
“Mother!” The word exploded from Johnny Monroe’s lips. Spittle flew everywhere. “Don’t you know? He always said he’d get you back.”
Tillie looked up from the paper. “Get me back? For what?”
“For the birthmark, Mother. The birthmark you showed the whole town.”
“Oh, nonsense, Johnny. I didn’t show the whole town.”
“Well, practically the whole town. Everyone and anyone who came through the church nursery saw the Eiffel Tower in red pigment on Winston Newberry’s backside, thanks to you. Not only that, they kept on talking about it for years to come. He always said he’d get you back for that. This is only the latest – ”
“Nonsense,” Tillie said again. “I never heard him say any such thing.”
“Listen, Mother, I went to school with him. I should know. How do you think you’ve ended up in the obits so many times?”
“Well, if that doesn’t beat all.” Tillie put a finger to her chin and frowned in thought. “We’d best get moving, then.”
“And just what do you plan to do?”
“Have the party, of course. Don’t just stand there with your mouth hanging open, Johnny. Go home and bring back all the folding tables and chairs you have. We’re going to need them. Roz, once the water boils, throw the noodles in and keep an eye on the pot while I vacuum the house.” She took her apron off and threw it on the counter. She moved to the front hall and hollered up the stairs, “Wally! Wal-ly!”
“What?”
“Come down here, will you? I’m sending you out for party supplies.”
“For what?”
“Party supplies.”
Wally’s footsteps