The Weird Sisters - Eleanor Brown [70]
Rose took a quilt from the back of the sofa and draped it over our mother’s legs, covering up the lurid pink toenail polish Cordy had inexpertly applied in a bid to make herself useful during hospital visiting hours.
Bean stood back and admired their work. “The barge she sat in, like a burnish’d throne; burn’d on the water: the poop was beaten gold . . .” she began.
“Poop,” Cordy said. “Ha ha ha.”
“You’re out of control,” Bean said.
“Thank you for the Cleopatra reference, Bianca. I’ll elect to take it as a compliment,” our mother said. Rose bent over and lifted a small bulb from beside our mother’s leg and rested it on her lap.
“You can’t sit on that, Mom. It won’t drain right.” She eyed the setup critically, and then walked into the kitchen.
“That’s the surgical drain?” Bean asked. “I thought it would be bigger. Like a hot water bottle.”
Cordy put down her book and squinted across the room. “Dude, that is nasty.”
“Again, darling, thank you,” our mother said. “I do hope that if you ever get ill we can all return the favor and make you feel similarly attractive.”
“Oh, Mommy,” Cordy said, clambering out of the chair and crawling across the floor to the sofa, where she butted her head against our mother’s hand, like a cat. “I’m just kidding around.”
“I know, love,” our mother said, petting Cordy’s hair. “Now what’s this about a job, Bianca?”
“Nothing. No job. Nobody wants to hire ye olde Beanster.” Bean sat down in the chair Cordy had vacated and rubbed her feet.
“Did you try the college?” our mother asked.
“Aye. No luck, unless I want to work in the electrical department, which I would totally do, but I think would be a bad idea for everyone involved, seeing as I don’t know anything about electrical wiring.”
“Good call,” Cordy said, tapping her nose with her index finger.
“Did you really go everywhere?” Rose asked. She was returning from the kitchen with a glass of water, which she put neatly on a coaster beside our mother.
Bean narrowed her eyes at Rose. “Yes, Rose, I really did go everywhere. The past two days I have inquired into the fields of beauty, fertilizer, accounting, food service, and everything in between.”
“Fertilizer,” Cordy mused. “That sounds interesting.”
“Don’t bother. They’re not hiring,” Bean said, and Cordy shrugged.
“If you’re really serious, if you really get out there and pound the pavement, I’m sure you’ll come up with something,” Rose said.
Bean’s mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? You don’t have any idea what I’ve been doing.”
“Girls, girls,” our mother said ineffectually. Bean was so mad she looked like a cartoon figure with smoke coming out of her ears. Rose retreated slightly. “Bianca, something will come up.”
“And in the meantime, you’ve got no expenses, right?” Rose asked.
“Right,” Bean said, staring at the floor.
Rose frowned. She’d intended for that to be helpful, but Bean’s expression was just as foul. She tried again. “If you need help, like, making up a budget or something . . .” She trailed off.
“That’s nice, Rosie,” Cordy jumped in sweetly before Bean could lash out. “That’s really nice.”
Bean exhaled through her nose. It wasn’t Rose’s fault. She didn’t know. She didn’t know that Bean could feel the debt on her shoulders like weight, that Daisy had now sent two letters, the second even more insistent, demanding that Bean pay what she owed them, that there was a passel of attorneys out there who could have her in jail as easily as take a breath....
No, Rose didn’t know. And Bean couldn’t tell her, even though she wanted to. When she woke up in the morning, the first thought she had was of money. When she got dressed, she calculated how much each piece of clothing had cost. She passed by stores and shoved her hands in her pockets, now sickened by the thought of spending anything at all. She dreamed of the faces of her creditors, angry and screaming, and she woke with tears dried on her face and a feeling of helplessness lying on her