Free A Dream for Addie by Gail Rock Page B

were going up to the second floor. “I hope you know I didn’t mean all those awful things I said.”
    â€œI was pretty sure you didn’t,” I said. “I didn’t mean what I said either.”
    â€œI was feeling low,” she said. “I lost a job and I just took it out on the next person I saw, and that was you.”
    Just then, Dad came in the door behind me to see what was keeping me, and she looked up and saw him. She seemed humiliated. She looked at me again and spoke to both of us.
    â€œI’m not a Broadway star. I can’t even get a job as an actress. I work as a hostess in a restaurant … and not even a very good restaurant.”
    I was so shocked I couldn’t say a word. I knew it must have been terribly painful for her to admit her failure, especially in front of Dad, and I admired her courage. Suddenly she put her hand to her forehead as though she felt faint and quickly sat down on the steps.
    â€œYou OK?” I asked.
    â€œYes,” she said. “Just a little dizzy. I haven’t felt like eating for the past couple of days.”
    I looked at Dad and he looked down at me with a troubled expression. I knew he realized now that she really was ill, and he knew we couldn’t just walk away and leave her there alone. He didn’t like being stuck with this problem, but he had to do something.
    I looked at him again. I knew it would be easy enough for me to say something, but I wanted him to do it, and I waited him out. There was an awkward silence—Constance sitting forlornly on the step, her head down, Dad watching her, and me watching him. Finally, he couldn’t stand the silence any more, and he spoke.
    â€œI think you’d better come home with us and stay a few days.”
    I almost cheered out loud. I couldn’t believe he had broken down and done it.
    â€œOh, I couldn’t,” Constance said to him.
    â€œYou can’t stay here all alone like this,” he said, and walked over to her at the foot of the stairs. “I mean, we’d be glad to have you.” Then he reached out his hand as though to help her up.
    She looked up at him, and I think she understood how difficult it had been for him to offer his help.
    â€œThank you, James,” she said quietly, and she took his hand.
    It was odd, but in that moment, I somehow felt that Constance had helped Dad as much as he had helped her.
    Dad moved his things into the living room and Constance stayed in his room for three days. I took her meals to her on a tray. On the third day, when she felt up to it, she sat up in bed with pillows at her back, and I sat at the foot of the bed and sketched her. I wouldn’t let her see the sketch until it was all finished.
    â€œI don’t think I want to see it anyway,” she said. “I must look like something the cat dragged in.”
    â€œNo, you don’t!” I said. “You look lots better today.”
    She did look better too. The few days of rest had done wonders for her, and her beautiful face seemed softer and more relaxed. She was wearing Grandma’s best pink flannel nightgown, and her hair was brushed softly back from her face.
    She smiled. “A few days of your grandma’s cooking would make anybody feel better.” She looked over at the daffodils I had put on her breakfast tray.
    â€œYou know, the other day when you brought me those daffodils,” she said, “it brought back so many memories. I remember being in New York one spring, and broke. I had just been to an audition, and I knew I had been terrible. There was a man on the street selling flowers. And I thought, if I could just have some daffodils, that would be some small bit of beauty in my life. But I didn’t have the fifty cents to buy them.” She paused and looked at me. “But if I had just come home, I wouldn’t have had to long for things like that. They were right here for the