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Show Motherlunge a novel 216 Because she needed to send me away; because I needed to leave; because she needed to sleep and she loved me. I shut my eyes. I opened my mouth and began spooning in Cheerios as fast as I could. "Okay," I said from the side of my mouth, filling up fast. Xavier was six, seven, eight months old, sitting up by himself and pointing like a little foreigner on a tour bus, poorly informed but full of winning appreciation. Finally, Pavia convinced Walter to come to the big city to meet his grandson. Dorothy, we all decided, was once again too sick to come. Jack and I went in his car to pick up Walter. And once we were on the highway, I found myself telling Jack about the time Pavia and I had gone to the airport to see his parents. "You wouldn't have recognized her," I told him. "She had a white wig. She was sitting in a wheelchair." Jack didn't seem surprised by this story, or even particularly interested. He rubbed one blond/eyebrow with his index finger and maintained the car's speed in the middle lane. "Eli said that that stunt sounds more like something I would do, not Pavia." In fact, Eli hadn't said that As you know, I lie. "But it was her idea, totally. I was just along for the ride." Jack, a grownup, kept steering his practical sedan, giving me nothing. |