OCR Text |
Show Go Love/128 snorkeling set, fishing gear and a marine cooler, a fold up dome tent and a boatload of water accessories presided over by a redheaded model with bony hips. O W.'s transfixed. The recliner squeaks when he moves Light filters through the bay window drapes. "We need to write the obit, Joey." Dougie's wearing a football helmut. He sits in Trace's lap, big as a bear The game show contestant guesses three grand, good maybe, because the redhead's beside herself, on the verge of ecstasy. Trace beckons me to the kitchen table. It's covered with bills and newspapers and plates of forgotten food A letter from Shawn Terrence Lord is pressed under a soup bowl where a couple of carrot wedges have hardened-no return address. Price is Right ends with a bang-all the long-legged brunettes and blondes and the pointy-hipped redhead hugging and smooching the winning contestant whose slipped the snorkel mask over his face so his every word sounds like snorka, snorka. gomp. gomp He pretends to breaststroke. Dougie climbs up off the floor and ambles over to his mother Commercials come on Bold and Judy chew on doughnuts Renee gives me her look from the loveseat-here we are, three million miles from her father's 70th, good old Cap with his pool and vodka tonics and the blue-green ocean. We've come a long way, a blur. Trace shows me bits and pieces of Mama's lifetime a marriage certificate, a picture of Mama with Hillary Clinton's arm around her, a bronze retirement plaque. "I want it to say something about the campaign." "We got married in 1965 How long's that?" Trace touches her chin to my shoulder. She's shaking. "We? I can't quit seeing It's awful," she says. |