“I like it too,” I said, as though the name were a hat I was trying on to see if it suited me. A hat I’d gotten used to, one that had kept me warm and dry and happy for years.
Was it a hat I was worthy of?
Would it blow off in a good strong wind, or would it hold?
I needed some ibuprofen. “Be right back, little mouse,” I said, going to the downstairs bathroom and getting the bottle from the medicine cabinet. I downed three pills with water slurped directly from the tap. I stood up, looked at myself in the mirror, saw my mother’s face looking back. The mother from my childhood.
My eyes were brown and hers an icy pale blue, but our faces had the same shape, the same nose and chin and slope of the forehead. It startled me sometimes, to see a trace of my mother in myself, to wonder just who I was looking at.
I stood squinting at my reflection, focusing on the edges.
Who do you think you are?
No one.
That’s exactly right. You’re no one.
For a second, I was sure I’d seen a flicker, as if I wasn’t really solid.
Wasn’t really there at all.
EIGHT
IRETURNED TO THE DININGroom as Olivia came away from the window, did three pirouettes and a plié. Then she started practicing her mouse dance, crouching down low, creeping across the floor on tiptoes, her hands held up like little paws.
Focused on her, I hadn’t seen the car pulling into the driveway, but Olivia, who’d been keeping her eye on the window even while dancing, didn’t miss it.
“She’s here! She’s here!” Olivia ran to the window, pressing her face against it.
My hands felt cold and sweaty, every muscle in my body painfully tight. My temples still throbbed.
Run, my body was telling me.Run and hide.
But this was silly. I’d invited her here. She was my mother.
I swallowed down the panic, rested a hand on Olivia’s back. She was thrumming with excitement.
“That’s Paul?” Olivia asked as Paul got out of the driver’s side door of the big black SUV.
“Yes,” I said. He was wearing a long black coat and dark sunglasses.
Paul went around to the passenger side and opened the door. I held my breath as I watched him help my mother out. She moved slowly, stiffly, and clung to his arm as he gently guided her, helped lift her from the seat. She stood in the driveway swaying slightly, still holding tight to him as he supported her. He said something that made her smile, and I felt a pang of jealousy as I watched the way she leaned into him.
Her face was gaunt. Her cheekbones, always prominent, jutted out, giving her the appearance of a woman chiseled from stone. She was wearing tailored black slacks, a white sweater, an unbuttoned black coat. She had a long white scarf wrapped around her neck and a white hat to match it. Elegant to the last. And a huge change from her appearance in the hospital, with the white-and-blue johnny hanging on her bony frame.
Still, she looked small and shrunken beneath her clothes, giving her an almost mummy-like appearance. While her body might be worn down by age and illness, her eyes were the same. Even from here, I could feel their icy glare as they scanned the yard, then the house, searching for me.
“Oh, she’s so tiny,” Olivia said. “And what a pretty hat! And she’s wearing a fancy coat! I like her already.”
“I knew you would,” I said. “Now, let’s go out and say hello.”
I took my daughter’s hand, held my breath, and led her out the front door.
“You found us!” I said, as if our family had been lost, then discovered at last, shipwrecked on our own private island.
“Alison,” Paul said, coming over and giving me a polite hug, kissing the air beside my cheek.
“Hello, Alison,” my mother said. “It’s good to see you again. Good to be here.”
