CHAPTER 18

I opened the door even before Al had a chance to ring.

“What’d they say?” I asked her.

Silently we zapped into my room and shut the door. There was no one around to eavesdrop. It was just better that way.

“I called,” Al said slowly. Her eyes looked red. Maybe she’d been crying. Maybe when she was by herself in the apartment that smelled of her mother, she’d cried.

“I called them and told them I couldn’t come. I told them my mother was sick and in the hospital and I couldn’t leave her alone. And Sam—Sam answered the phone, if you can believe it—Sam kept saying, ‘Whazza matta, Al? Whyn’t you coming?’ That’s the way he talks. He’s only seven, you know.

“‘Whazza matta, Al? Whyn’t you coming?’” she repeated, as if Sam had said something brilliant for a seven-year-old. Sam is Al’s favorite. Sam is special, Al says.

“So then my father got on and he wanted to know all about my mother and what the doctor had said and what hospital she was in so they could send her flowers. How do you like that?” Al gave me a piercer. That was a good sign. She only gave piercers when she was herself.

“And you know something?”

I shook my head.

“I think my father still has some feeling left for my mother.” Al’s eyes were big and round and solemn. The spots of color on her cheeks had disappeared and she was pale. “I think in the deepest recesses of his heart he still cherishes her a little.” When I first knew Al she told me her mother and father had a very friendly relationship. Even though they were divorced. The reason they got divorced, Al said, was that her father was a perfectionist.

“Just a little,” Al went on. “I don’t mean anything romantic, you understand.” She stared hard at me. “I don’t think that for a minute. I think he and Louise are very much in love with each other. I mean I think he might cherish her a little because she’s my mother, if you know what I mean”

I wasn’t sure I did, but I didn’t let on.

“She was his first love,” Al said. “That’s something you never forget—your first love.”

I almost said, “How do you know?” but I kept my mouth shut.

“It must be nice to be someone’s first love.” Al got up and went to the bathroom. She does that a lot when she’s in the middle of a story. I’m used to it now, but it used to bother me. One thing about Al, she never loses the thread of what she’s saying.

“Anyway,” she said, coming back, “I gave my father the doctor’s name and the hospital room number. He wanted to know what kind of flowers my mother likes. I told him anemones. And you know what he said?”

I shook my head.

“He said, ‘Of course. Those red and purple flowers. She always did like those.’ Well, of course, all I hope is that Louise didn’t hear him say that. I mean, she might not like that if she knew my father remembered my mother’s favorite flowers. Not that Louise is the jealous type. Because she’s not. Still.” A little smile played over Al’s face, like a gentle breeze over still water.

“Then I talked to Louise. She said they were sorry. They were all so sorry, about my mother and about my not coming right then. She said I should let them know the minute I could come. Then you know what she said?”

I just sat there and didn’t even bother to shake my head again.

“She said she knew Brian would be sorry too, when he found out I wasn’t coming. Well, I think she was making that up. How’d she know he’d be sorry? But that’s what she said. How could she know he’d be sorry when she hadn’t even told him yet?” Al stopped talking. I think she wanted me to give her an argument. Or to reassure her. Something. I sat there. I’m a good listener.

“So then,” Al said, “Louise said they could always have another barn dance. I asked her if they’d made the homemade ice cream yet, and she said no. I’m not sure she was telling me the truth. I think they probably have a freezer full of homemade strawberry ice cream right this minute. She just didn’t want me to feel bad. Any worse than I do already, that is.

“Then you know what she said?” Al’s voice trembled.

“No,” I said.

Al lowered her head and smiled sadly at her feet.

“She said she would pray for my mother.” Al looked up at me, and her face was very serious. Behind her glasses her eyes glinted. They looked almost as if they were made of glass. She got up and went into the bathroom again. She stayed there quite a long time. I was beginning to get worried. I thought maybe I ought to see if she was all right. Then she came out.

“Nobody ever said that before,” Al went on, as if our conversation hadn’t been interrupted. “That they’d pray for my mother, I mean. I thought that was sweet of Louise to say that. She doesn’t even know my mother. It’s one thing to pray for someone you know,” Al said sternly. “It’s quite another to pray for someone you don’t know. Someone who was your husband’s first wife. Someone who is the mother of your stepdaughter. That’s what I am, Louise’s stepdaughter. Did you realize that? Isn’t that amazing?”

Al glanced at me and quickly glanced away.

“Of course, I don’t think my mother needs prayers said for her. I mean, she’s not that sick. She’s practically well. Still, I guess they can’t do any harm. You never know. She could have a relapse.”

Al wound down. She stopped talking and sank back on my bed. It had been a weird day, in more ways than one.