Free Nancy Culpepper by Bobbie Ann Mason Page A

housecoat pocket. Lee lights it for her, then lights his own cigarette. They share a Coke from a cooler filled with ice and free cold drinks in cans for visitors in the lounge. Lila’s proud of her son. He has such a pretty wife and two smart kids, but he has to work too hard to keep up his house and car payments.
    “Spence didn’t know about these drinks,” she says. “He went all the way down to the basement to the machine.”
    “He didn’t stick around five minutes, I bet,” Lee says, handing her the can.
    “Lord, no. These places give him the heebie-jeebies.”
    “They do me too.” Lee is playing with his lighter, flicking the flame on and off. “When’s Nancy coming in?”
    “I don’t know. Cat called from the airport before we left home and said Nancy’s airplane was late. They was supposed to get here by about four o’clock.” She sips from the Coke and hands it back to Lee.
    “Did Cat take off from work?”
    Lila nods. “I told the girls they didn’t have to go to all this trouble, but I guess they’re scared I’m going to kick the bucket.”
    “No, you won’t,” Lee says. He hesitates, trying to say something, but he’s exactly like Spence, bashful and silent at all the wrong moments. “What caused this?” he asks. “Do the doctors know what they’re doing?”
    “They’re specialists,” Lila says. “The woman that runs the dress store where Cat works recommended the doctor I went to yesterday. He’s supposed to be good.” Touching her son’s knee, she says, “Promise me one thing, Lee.”
    He flicks ash off his cigarette by tapping it from beneath with his little finger. “What?”
    “That you and Cat will start talking to one another. I can’t believe my own children would hate each other.”
    “We don’t hate each other!”
    “Well, you could be nice to each other—it wouldn’t hurt.”
    Lee stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray and nods his head thoughtfully. “I’ll try,” he says. “But it’s up to her.” He stands. “I have to get back to work.”
    “Are you going home for supper?”
    “No. I’ll grab a Big Mac or something.”
    Lee walks her back to her room and gives her another hug. His belt buckle presses under her breasts. When he was about fourteen, he started shooting up like a cornstalk and she thought he’d never stop. He was named after Lila’s father, who abandoned her when she was four and went off to Alaska—long before it was a state. Lila was never sure it was appropriate to name her only son after him, but it’s Christian to forgive. Now, as he leaves, she suddenly feels the fear she felt when Nancy left home for the first time—certain she won’t see her child again.
    After experimenting with the remote-control device, Lila watches television for a while. The news doesn’t make any sense. The commercials are about digestion. Her digestion has always been good. Spence has heartburn and can’t eat much for supper. Sometimes he has chest pains, but he says it’s just heartburns. On the news, a couple about her age have won over three million dollars in a lottery. “We’ll pay off the bills, I guess,” the man says. “And get a new living room suit,” the woman adds.
    A nurse trots in with some forms for Lila to fill out.
    “I can’t see good enough,” Lila says, searching for her glasses in her purse. “My glasses don’t fit anymore, but my daughter says that’s what I get for buying them at the dime store.” She laughs and holds the forms at arm’s length. Pointing to the blurred fine print, she asks, “What’s this say?”
    “It’s just routine, ma’am,” says the nurse. “Tonight when the doctor comes he’ll give you a release form and read it to you and make sure you understand everything that’s going on.”
    “What’s going to happen to me?”
    Before the nurse can answer, a girl walks in and plunks down Lila’s supper tray without comment.
    “My, you’re getting a feast tonight,” says the nurse,