Free Friendswood by Rene Steinke Page B

too.”
    â€œMom.”
    â€œI’m just saying.” Lately, her mother acted like there was something different, something wrong and out of place in Willa, as if her mouth held some ugly and mean expression that meant no one else would ever love her.

LEE

    A T R USH’S HOUSE, they drank bourbon. Rush’s husband, Tom, clownishly scowled in and out of the room the way he always did, the news turned to mute on the large-screen TV over the fireplace. On the other side of the room, there was a lamp whose base was a cowboy boot, and on the wall behind it, a painting of running horses and a collection of embroidered sayings inside picture frames. Lee tended to let her gaze brush over them, but now her concentration landed on that one she disliked—the smug prayer about accepting what you couldn’t change and having the courage to change what you could. The needlepoint ended in a flock of birds. As if every anguish was meant to disappear into
wisdom to know
.
    Rush pulled her feet up under her on the black leather couch. With her blue minnow-shaped eyes, and her triangular cheekbones, she had a grand beauty and a bawdy, gap-toothed smile. Her breasts were heavy now, in her billowy sheer blouses, her long blond hair always shiny and straight, like her daughters’ (there were bottles of shampoo and blow-dryers crowding the shelves of the bathrooms). “You ever see Charlotte anymore? I swear she saw me and walked right past at the school the other day. Her girl Willa waved though.”
    â€œChar’s eyesight always was bad.”
    â€œOr it’s her manners.”
    Lee remembered the last time she’d seen Char’s daughter, a sweet-looking, serious girl with big dark eyes. She’d come in for an appointment with Doc, and she’d been carrying one of those god-awful paperbacks with explosions on the cover that try to get people to think the world will be done with by Christmas.
    â€œAt least since she got Christian,” said Rush. “I mean, we all used to be so close. You know what I call her church, that Victory Temple? The way they go on about things, I call it the Viciousness Temple.” She laughed. “You ever talk to her anymore?”
    â€œNot really. I don’t think she hates me. She’s just waiting for me to be saved.”
    â€œNot going to happen.” Rush pulled at the jade pendant of her necklace, raced it back and forth on the chain. “Hey, Lee, are you alright? Your mouth is doing that thing.”
    She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to say.
    â€œYou’ve been going out there again, haven’t you?” said Rush. “Goddamnit, they buried that poison. And what good does it do you? Probably dangerous even being out there all by yourself.” She stood up to turn on the radio on the bureau.
    â€œI saw something different this time.”
    â€œI bet you did.” Rush flung herself back on the couch, drew her knees up to her chin. “I just feel like I have to trust people in order to live, don’t you? I mean, me and Tom aren’t moving, and you’re not either. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life fretting about stuff we can’t even see.”
    Rush’s youngest girl ran in and out of the room, asking for nail polish. Rush addressed her by only slightly moving her head in the girl’s direction, and told her not to interrupt adult conversation. She had an imperial way of sitting tall and calm, while the rabble rushed around her.
    â€œDo you want some chips? Or I have some really good Hershey’s.”
    â€œNo.” Lee savored the bourbon in her mouth. “I’m just saying, there might be news.”
    Rush looked away, brought a cigarette to her lips, let it flick upward before she lit it. “Whatever you say.”
    â€œJack called again yesterday.”
    â€œHoney.” Rush had a way of communicating her disapproval with just a look—as if her thought