Robber Bride - Margaret Atwood [243]
Charis wonders whether Zenia will come back as a human being or as something else. Perhaps the soul breaks up as the body does, and only parts of it are reborn, a fragment here, a fragment there. Perhaps many people will soon be born with a fragment of Zenia in them. But Charis would rather think of her whole.
After a while she turns out the other downstairs lights and goes upstairs. Just before she climbs into her vine-covered bed, she gets out her notebook with the lavender paper and her pen with the green ink, and writes: Zenia has returned to the Light.
She hopes this is so. She hopes that Zenia is not still hovering around, alone and lost, somewhere out there in the night.
After Roz takes Tony home she goes home herself, as fast as she can because she’s worried sick, what if there’s cocaine stashed all over her house, tucked into the tea leaves or the cookie jar in little plastic bags, what if she finds the place full of sniffer dogs and men named Dwayne, who will address her as ma’am and say they are just doing their jobs? She even runs a red light, not a thing she normally does, although everyone else seems to these days. She shucks her coat in the hall, kicks off her shoes, and goes on the hunt for Larry.
The twins are in the family room, watching a rerun of Star Trek.
“Greetings, Earthmom,” says Paula.
“Maybe she isn’t Mom,” says Erin. “Maybe she’s a Replicant.”
“Hi, kids,” says Roz. “It’s way past your bedtime! Where’s Larry?”
“Erla’s done our homework,” says Erin. “This is our reward.”
“Mom, what’s wrong?” says Paula. “You look like shit.”
“It’s old age,” says Roz. “Is he home?”
“He’s in the kitchen,” says Erin. “We think.”
“Eating bread and honey,” says Paula.
“That’s the Queen, stupid,” says Erin. They giggle.
Larry is sitting on one of the high stools, at the kitchen counter, wearing jeans and a black T-shirt and bare feet, and drinking a bottle of beer. Across from him on another high stool is Boyce, neat in his suit; he’s got a beer, too. When Roz walks into the room they both look up. They both seem equally anxious.
“Hi, Boyce,” says Roz. “What a surprise! Is something wrong at the office?”
“Good evening, Ms. Andrews,” says Boyce. “Not at the office, no.”
“I have something to discuss with Larry,” says Roz. “If you don’t mind, Boyce.”
“I think Boyce should stay,” says Larry. He looks dejected, as if he’s failed an exam: there must be something to Zenia’s story. But what’s Boyce got to do with it?
“Larry, I’m concerned,” says Roz. “What are you into with Zenia?”
“Who?” Larry says, too innocently.
“I need to know,” says Roz.
“I dream of Zenia in her light brown lair,” Boyce murmurs as if to himself.
“She told you?” says Larry.
“About the drugs?” says Roz. “Oh God, it’s true! If you’ve got any drugs in this house, I want them out of here, right now! So you were having a thing with her!”
“Thing?” says Larry.
“Thing, fling, whatever,” says Roz. “Holy Moly, don’t you know how old she was? Don’t you know how vicious she was? Don’t you know what she did to your father?”
“Thing?” says Boyce. “I don’t think so.”
“What drugs?” says Larry.
“It was only a few times,” says Boyce. “He was experimenting. My nose aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense. Keats. He’s given it up, as of now – right, Larry?”
“Then you weren’t her dealer?” says Roz.
“Mom, it was the other way around,” says Larry.
“But Charis saw you kissing her, right out on the street!” says Roz. She feels very weird, talking this way to her own son. She feels like a snoopy old crock.
“Kissing?” says Larry. “I never kissed her. She was whispering in my ear. She was telling me that we were being followed around by this deranged older woman. Maybe it looked like kissing, to Aunt