Gladys

She’d just come home from school. The sprouts were having an afternoon snack, and for every Teddy Graham that went in their mouths, three hit the floor. Angela was cleaning up spilled juice and Mama was changing Mateo when her phone sang out.

“Get that for me, sugar?” Mama said.

Gladys picked it up. “Hello?”

“Yes ma’am. I’m returning a call from Suzanna?”

It was him. She knew it. Gladys’s fingers tightened around the phone. Inside her, that dim, cold cave opened out again. This time it yawned so wide, her chest seemed to crack in two. Before she knew what was happening, words came pouring out.

“What is wrong with you?” she cried into the phone. “How could you do it? How could you just leave like that? What kind of human being are you?”

“Hang on! Who’s this?”

“She waited for you! She looked for you! She didn’t understand! Didn’t you ever stop to think how—”

“Sugar.” Mama was taking the phone from her. She touched Gladys’s cheek. “Let me do this, okay?”

Gladys couldn’t stand it. She grabbed Sophie, carried her outside, and sat on a swing. Sophie twisted around to look at her in wonder.

“Please don’t talk,” Gladys said. “Just let me hold you, okay?”

“Okay.” Sophie rested her head on Gladys’s chest.

A content, cozy sprout makes for a heavy load. While she waited for whatever would happen, Gladys’s arms and legs went to sleep. Sophie wiped a dirty finger on her vintage silk vest. Yet Gladys held on to her, because otherwise she would fly into a million pieces.

A piece of bark broke loose from the reptile tree, falling to the earth with a small, brittle sigh. New, creamy bark peeked out, looking so tender and fragile Gladys could hardly bear it. With one foot she pushed the swing back and forth, back and forth.

Until at last the back door opened and she watched her mother cross the yard, watched her eye the other swing as if she’d like to sit there, if only she wasn’t too large. Instead she dragged over a lawn chair and set it so she and Gladys were knee to knee.

Her face was serene, the face of someone who knew she’d made the right decision. With a small shock, Gladys realized that this was the first time in days Mama hadn’t looked anxious. Her arms tightened around Sophie.

“He was calling from Montana,” Mama said. “He says it’s beautiful out there—big-sky country. A great place for a motorcycle. He—his name is George—George says he’ll probably stay there, at least for now.” Her brow flushed dark pink. “When I asked about True, he told me he’d gotten her at the pound when she was just a pup, about two years ago. George said he’d had dogs since he was a boy but never one like her. He said she was kookie—kookie Pookie. He sounded like he was really fond of her.”

Gladys swallowed down the bad taste rising in the back of her mouth.

“He never meant to leave her, but things between him and his girlfriend got too hard, so he had to hit the road. He’d hoped Pookie would cheer her—her name is Iris—he hoped Pookie might comfort Iris after he was gone.” Mama shook her head and sighed. “I don’t think he meant any harm. He’s just one sad, clueless man.”

“No he’s not!” The words burst from Gladys. “He’s selfish and heartless. Mama! Don’t let him off the hook! Admit it, he’s bad! Say it!”

“When I told him Pookie had gotten loose and Iris moved without finding her, he was shocked. Sugar, the man actually couldn’t speak for a moment. He said he’d track down Iris and tell her we’d found Pookie. He seemed to hope she’d still want the dog back.”

Gladys hugged Sophie so tight, the little girl squealed in protest. Gladys’s arms and legs, numb by now, prickled painfully awake. When Mama put a hand on her knee, Gladys looked at her bitten nails and knew: her mother had agreed with selfish, heartless George. She’d told him to call poor, wicked Iris. Mama, who had enough love and forgiveness inside her for everyone, even for George and Iris, Mama who always found the good in others, Mama who had hope enough for the whole wide world: Mama would believe it was the right thing to do.

“Don’t keep the sad inside,” Sophie whispered, patting Gladys’s cheek.

“I told George that, even though he and I had only talked a short time, I could tell he never meant to hurt Pookie. I said, You want the best for her, don’t you? and he said Yes, ma’am, I do. I said, You want her to have the most loving home possible, don’t you? And he said, You got it, Miss Suza!”

Tiny needles stabbed Gladys’s arms and legs, her hands and feet. Something in Mama’s face was changing.

“I said, George, we’ve already found that very home for her.”

Gladys slid forward off the swing. Her legs folded up beneath her, and she and Sophie landed in a heap on the ground. Sophie shouted in glee.

“Do it again!” she demanded.

Mama hunkered down beside them and put her arms, arms big enough to circle the world, around them both.

“I told him Pookie had found the place she belongs, with people who will love her forever, no matter what.”

“Thank you, Mama! Thank you thank you thank you!”

“You don’t need to thank me. You’re the one who found her that home. You found her the place she truly belongs.”

Gladys rested her head on Mama’s shoulder. Wordless communication flew between them.

Like you found me. Gladys.

And you found us. Mama.

Gladys could still feel the cave gaping inside her. Would it always be there? Maybe. She didn’t know. But now its hollows were filled with warmth and golden light. Not filled. Overflowing.

“Let your happy out,” Sophie said, wriggling in between them.