Marianne sat in the passenger seat of the car, looking at the house that had been her home for over twenty-one years. Eleven years of childhood abusive memories swirled in her lonely heart as she looked around and it didn't even look like home anymore. Where Mavis's strawberry curtains had hung invitingly in the kitchen was only a bare window. An empty bird feeder was nailed to the side of the house. The lawn was long and straggly, with yellow dandelions blooming everywhere. The flower beds that had been alive with vibrant colors were now only a dull brown. Over the past years Mavis had pulled the dead or dying flowers up, every one making her heart more bitter.
"All ready Marianne?" Mavis asked as she got out from behind the steering wheel. "As ready as I'll ever be." Marianne whispered and bit her lip to keep from crying. She had succeeded in not crying on the long ride home, she wasn't going to start now. But she didn't move. She felt she was going to be sick. She wondered if her legs were going to hold her. She drew a deep breath and stumbled up the driveway.
“How does it feel to be home?” Mavis asked.
“Okay, I guess,” she mumbled, shrugging her shoulders.
It wasn't even home to her anymore. Marianne wondered if she'd ever feel at home there. Mavis used her key and opened the door. Inside it was cool and dark. The television set was on, tuned to a basketball game. Rex sat very close in front of the set, watching the game. Again, Marianne felt she was going to be sick.
“We’re home, Rex,” Mavis said nervously.
He turned his head slowly, stiffly. Marianne could scarcely make out his features. His hair was shorter, neater, and he had a bald spot in front that he tried to cover with a few strands of hair. His eyebrows were tangled and he had developed a pot belly, probably a beer belly. His jeans hung just below it. He rubbed his hands over his face making a sandpaper sound that jarred Marianne’s memory and set her teeth on edge. His eyes were on a level with the TV. Was he looking for an eleven year old? Had he expected her to come back as short as she was when she left? Was she too tall?
He was wearing a V-necked white T-shirt with stains down the front. His big hands twitched on his knees. Slowly his head tilted back, and he raised his eyes to her. Their eyes met and his went through her to the other side.
“Say something to your father, Marianne,” Mavis said.
Rex lunged to his feet and reached out for her.
“No,” she cried, flinging up her hands. He grabbed her wrists.
“What’s the matter?” Mavis cried. He let her go.
“I’m sorry,” Marianne said, ashamed. His voice set off a roaring in her head. Touch it Marianne. It won’t be for long Marianne.
“Is that all you can say?” Mavis began to sob noisily. “You come home after all this time and that is all you can say? I’m sorry?”
“For God’s sake, Mavis. Stop your sniveling.” When the roaring stopped, he was saying, “You’ve changed Marianne. You’re not my little funny face anymore.” He was not smiling. “You’re not a little girl anymore.”
You were never a little girl, Marianne. You were born old.
“Of course she’s not a little girl anymore.” Mavis said. “How could she be?”
She had stopped crying at his command but her sensitive skin was swollen and blotchy.
“You’re not the same either,” Marianne said.
“Well, I can’t just stand here all day,” Mavis said. “I want to eat. I haven’t had a bite all day long. And I’d like to take a nap after such a long ride. Monday will be here just all too soon. Marianne, you can help in the kitchen.” Mavis turned to walk to the kitchen. “You’re not company, you know.”
“Marianne knows she isn’t company.” His eyes swept over her slowly taking in her breasts, her hips. Marianne shuddered. “Better do what your mother says, Marianne. Like a good girl.” The old words shocked her. Good girls don’t kill their sisters. It must have shocked Rex too, and he sat down to watch TV.
“Marianne!” Mavis nearly yelled. “I haven’t got all day.”
“I guess you remember your way to the kitchen,” Rex said.
In the dining area at the end of the kitchen was the ugly old green Formica table that they used for a dining table. She stood staring at it for a moment, remembering when she and Shelby used to play under it. The shiny legs were now covered with rust spots. The table had plastic place mats, now only three where there used to be four.
Mavis was spooning coffee into the coffee maker. She turned her head toward Marianne. “I suppose you drink coffee now? I got milk for you, but if you want coffee it’s okay.”
“Yes, please. Medium cream and one sugar.”
Mavis had painted the kitchen a cheery yellow. “I hated that old green color that was in here. I painted this myself.” She turned the coffee maker on and turned to Marianne again. “It took a lot of coats and I couldn’t get Rex to do any of it.” She pulled a couple of loaves of bread out of the refrigerator and started to arrange the slices on a platter.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” she said. “You can make the salads. Get the stuff from the fridge.”
Marianne got an array of salad fixings from the refrigerator and sat down at the table to cut the lettuce and tomatoes and looked up when Rex came into the room.
Mavis carefully arranged thin slices of cheese, ham and turkey on the platter making a perfect circle. She put olives and pickles in the center then stood back to admire them. It looked like a large flower when she finished.
Rex helped himself to a can of beer out of the refrigerator. He popped the top and swallowed a huge mouthful, swirled it around and around in his mouth, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I fixed the platter,” Mavis said as Rex reached for bread and meat.
“Damn stuff is cut so thin you can’t taste it! I’ve told you not to buy this kind. You pay a bundle for this stuff and it has no taste when it’s cut so thin.”
“And I’ve told you to take as many slices as you want. I like it cut like this. It’s neater and easier. You go in behind the table, Marianne. That’s your place.”
The cushion on the chair let out a gust of air as Rex dropped down on it. Marianne jumped when he sat down.
He laughed. “Sounds like a fart, don’t it?”
“REX!”
“She’s so refined, of course, the cushions don’t do that when she sits down.”
“I’ve told you over and over again, you sit down too hard.”
“That’s not all I do that’s hard.”
“I don’t care. Throw them out if you don’t like them.”
Marianne sank down into her chair and rested her chin on her hands. The air in the chair cushion moved beneath her as she moved. She gazed out the window into the back yard. The small garden that used to be so beautiful was now overgrown with tangled weeds. The garage was on the other side where she couldn’t see it. The garage where Shelby laid behind the work bench, her blond hair stained red.
“You ain’t eatin’,” Mavis said. “She did a nice job makin’ the salads, didn’t she Rex?”
“For God’s sake, Mavis. Why wouldn’t she be able to make a salad?”
“At the cottage I worked in the kitchen. I did everything. I cooked the meals and planned the menus.”
“You had to plan them before you cooked them, I hope,” Rex said.
“Don’t pay any attention to him. He thinks he’s a comedian.”
“Different girls did different jobs. We rotated each week.”
“That must have been something, seeing all those girls rotating each week,” Rex said.
“Shut up, Rex. You’re disgusting.”
He got up and got another beer. Marianne thought she was prepared but she jumped when he sat down.
“Helen said to tell you she’ll soon be over to see you,” Mavis looked out the window as if talking about the neighbor next door would make her appear in the window. “You remember Helen and Max don’t you?”
“She wanted me to call her Aunt Helen.”
“She’s been having a lot of trouble with her legs. They’ve been real bad lately.” She poured a cup of fresh coffee placing it in front of Marianne. “Do you remember Leon?”
“Yes. He used to play hide and seek with us.”
“Oh, you remember that do you?”
“Yes. He gave me a silver dollar once, but you made me give it back. You told me never to take money from a man or boy, but Leon gave me a silver dollar.” Maybe it was okay to take money from a relative, even if not a real relative.
“It was from Las Vegas. He gave it to me for luck.”
“We could have used some luck,” Rex said.
“He said it would be worth more, some day.”
“Well, he was wrong. They flooded the market. Then they devalued the dollar. I bet they didn’t teach you that in school.”
“Yes. In Economics Class.”
Rex’s jaw was white, as if his teeth were clenched between bites.
“I made you give it back,” Mavis said again. She took a pink bakery box out of the refrigerator and remained standing, eating a brownie. “Leon never married,” she said. “Who would have him? A one legged man.”
“A woman who can’t get a two legged man,” Rex said.
“Well, I’ll say this for him. He can make more money than a lot of two legged men.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Mavis? Are you trying to slam me because I can’t work?”
“Now take it easy, Rex. I didn’t mean anything by it. And, please let’s not fight in front of Marianne on her first day back.”
Rex took a long swig out of his beer can, then turned to Marianne. “Maybe I’ve been waiting for you to grow up, Marianne.” He winked at her.
“Don’t talk like that, Rex.”
“She’s a big girl now. She can handle it.”
“Well, anyway ,” Mavis continued conversationally, “He walks better now. Hardly even limps at all. Got a new kind of artificial leg. It’s wonderful the things they can do nowadays. There isn’t anything they can’t make. New heart, new lungs--”
“There’s still one thing they can’t make.”
“You would think of putting that in, wouldn’t you?”
“That’s the idea. To put it in.”
“Shut up, Rex.”
“Who do you think you are telling to shut up?”
Mavis tossed her head. “Helen said they would likely drop over tomorrow. Leon has a business in Las Vegas, some kind of telemarketing place. He sells ball point pens, reams of paper. Office supplies and stuff like that. Stuff you wouldn’t think could make a lot of money but he’s driving a Cadillac. He comes home nearly every weekend. They’re a close family.”
“That’s Jews for you, always sticking together.”
“You’re so stupid! I told you a thousand times! Max is not a Jew. Only Helen came from a jewish background.”
“Maybe I should tell the Facinelli’s to come over too. Get it over with. You remember them don’t you, Marianne? He’s the one that was your attorney.”
“Yes. I remember them. They’re the ones that gets a new car every two years.”
“She didn’t waste any time throwing that up to me either, did she?” Rex said then belched behind a cupped fist.
“I’m just talking about the neighborhood, Rex.” She brought a plate full of brownies and sat them in the middle of the table and sat down. “The Facinelli’s had their whole house remodeled. Thought they never would get done with it. All that hammering and noise. They added an upstairs to the house since their kids were born. I’ll tell them to bring the kids too. The more the merrier.”
“Shit! Why don’t you just invite the whole neighborhood? Tell them our kid’s a freak. Invite them all to the freak show.”
“Shut up, Rex. We want them to meet her. To see that she’s not such a queer. The doctor said that she should socialize. It’s important for her re-entry into society.”
Mavis stood, wiping her chin with a paper napkin. “Well, I have to get some rest. I’m goin’ to lay down.” She looked around the kitchen dully. “There’s all these dishes to be done.”
Marianne volunteered. “I can do the dishes.”
“I don’t want them broke. They’re my good dishes.”
“Marianne’s old enough to do the dishes without breaking them, for God’s sake.”
“Rex will show you where to find everything. The dish soap and all.”
Marianne heard the peculiar squeak the bathroom door made. It was a familiar sound from long ago. Looks like they would’ve fixed it after all these years.
“I told Dr. Woodall about how good you are at making things, Rex.”
“Yeah. What else did you tell him?”
“I didn’t tell him anything. I just told him how good you are at making things.”
“What else did you tell him, I asked you.”
“I told him I hit Shelby on the head with a hammer and they let me come home.”
“I’m trying to find out how much you remember.”
“I remember Josh,” she said. “Where is he?”
“Oh, you remember him, do you?” He shook his head as if he had an earache. “He has disappeared, just dropped out of sight. He won’t be coming back here, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He blinked his eyes, turned and went to the living room, turned the TV on. He swore because there were no sports. He turned on the weather channel and sat there watching it without seeing anything.
Marianne leaned against the sink counter feeling as though she would faint. Her head was spinning. After a few minutes, she cleared the table, put away the food, washed and dried the dishes. She felt almost as though she were back at the cottage. She found a mop and wiped up the floor. Then there was nothing to do.