her lips a little.
Melanie opened the back door of the vehicle as the children poured out and ran to the front door of their grandmother’s house. Elise popped the back hatch and pulled all her cases out, trying to squander more time before she had to go inside. Her hands shook as she took the cases. Melanie took a few and they carried them up the walk that seemed shorter now than in Elise’s mind. Her eyes reached the pitch of the roof where she remembered thinking it was as tall as the clouds. Now, the wooden gingerbread that stood in the front peak was weathered and the white paint was all but erased from it.
As Elise crossed the threshold, she zeroed in on her mother who was sitting, propped up in the chaise lounge by the large picture window. A peacock wouldn’t have sat more erect displaying a new fan of feathers. Her blond hair was pulled back into barrettes, and a fluffy pink chenille throw cascaded down her legs and puddled on the floor in front of her. Elise noticed her blouse. She’d obviously picked lavender to wear for the occasion of being cut and sutured. She always said it highlighted and complemented her pale eye color, softened her features. If anyone knew her well enough, like Elise did, the thought of anything softening her was ironical. How did one soften a rock?
Aunt Hildie raised from the worn yellow chair and hugged Elise, the top of her head reaching her niece’s shoulder. She smelled like perm solution and a hint of baby powder.
“It’s good to see you, Aunt Hildie. You look so young.” Elise spoke loudly to compensate for her aunt’s older age.
Aunt Hildie’s chubby cheeks lifted as the corners of her mouth spread wide. “Thank you, dear. You look so skinny. Are you eating out there in California? What are they feeding you?”
As if ‘they’ existed. Aunt Hildie was always either blaming ‘them’ for the way the government was being run, or questioning what ‘they’ were doing to you if you stayed away too long and came back missing a few pounds. Elise rubbed her taut stomach. It had shrunk since living among all the lard and carbs.
“Yes. I certainly eat enough. But I think the plane ride took a few of the extra inches off my waist. They must’ve dropped off somewhere over Colorado. I somehow felt lighter after flying over that one.” She winked and gave her aunt back the hand she’d been rubbing.
She looked past Hildie to her mother. The glasses she had perched on her head told Elise she’d fallen asleep recently. She went and knelt down to hug her mother. It would be weird to do anything less. Although embracing an inanimate object might’ve been more welcoming. Lyla Newton crooked her head a smidge and patted her daughter’s back in three rapid beats. A snare drum would’ve benefited from the precision.
“It’s good to see you, Mother.” She pulled the comment out of the neutral box she had mentally packed in her mind, just for this trip back home.
Lyla tucked her hand back on her coverlet. Her arthritic knuckles kneaded the fibers like a cat. One thing was for sure, her mother’s face didn’t look its age, but her hands told a different timeline. Perhaps too much time in the garden without the use of gloves. Her nails and cuticles would forever be permanently stained by the dirt. And surprisingly it didn’t bother her pretentious mother. She wore the evidence of gardening more like a badge than a flaw.
“Did you have a good flight?” Her mother had also reserved pleasant conversation for the occasion.
The kids ran past them, fighting over who was right about whatever. “It was fine. I slept most of it.”
Melanie came from the kitchen to yell at her children. She was swinging a large spoon in one hand and a small box of something else in the other one. “Go in the den and play. I told you that Grandma needs to rest.”
Lyla yelled back to Melanie, who was already in the kitchen. “Melanie, I told you that you don’t have to cook. We can order