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Show Woodworth/124 now and again." Marty ignores the innuendos, slips the paper off. "Oh my God, Mom! This isn't a little indulgence." It's a complete set of dishes. She tears the top off the box. Dinner plates, tea cups, salad plates. Salt and pepper shakers. Even a tea pot and a creamer. "Well, now you guys really will have to come to dinner. This is unbelievable. Thank you." She sets the box on the floor, and leans over to her mother. Kisses her on the cheek. Her skin is warm, dry, smells of powder. Even of perfume. Ruth reaches up and puts her arm around her daughter, tightens her grip. Marty returns the pressure until, suddenly, it feels like her mother won't let go, that she will be held up against that face forever, until the dry skin absorbs oils from her own face, until the wrinkles become her own. The smell of powder and perfume overwhelm her, and she hearly gasps for air- She pulls back against her mother's grip, and Ruth lets go immediately, almost pushing her away. Marty returns to her place, avoids her mother's eyes. She was only trying to be nice. Or was she trying to bribe Marty into staying? It's too late. There's too much to make up for now. She could never pay off the debts. She'd put up with too much, listened too much, been silent too much. A fist clenches in her throat, choking her breath. She leans over the box of dishes again, and begins to push the wrapping away, looking at each item, piece by piece. "These are really beautiful, iAom," she says. "That was really nice of you." " % little indulgence," Ruth says. Her voice v; far away. Ned drives her in town, and both are silent with memories. Days and nights, days and nights. t\arty learns the tricks |
