Читать книгу The Unthinkable - Lois A. Schaffer - Страница 15

Chapter

3

Susie called me early in the morning on that fateful day to find out how we were doing after the snowstorm. She was getting ready to leave to teach at her Gyrotonic studio. We agreed that the snowstorm was over and that we could each attend to our daily routine.

“How’re Sarah and Danny?” I asked.

“School’s open and they’re getting themselves ready to leave in-between watching TV. Come to think of it, I always have to remind them to turn the TV off. They remember to do that about 50 percent of the time.”

“I know what you mean. They’re young and couldn’t care less about electricity costs.”

“How’s Rachel?” Susie asked.

“I guess she’s fine. I assume she’s off to work because I haven’t heard anything to the contrary.”

“Good. I’ll call her later,” Susie said.

Rachel called Susie while she was driving home from her fitness studio laden with bags of groceries from her weekly trip to the supermarket. Rachel later repeated to me what she remembered of the conversation with her mother.

“Mom was driving. First we talked about the snowstorm. We compared the differences we experienced for me in New York and Mom in St. Louis. She told me that although the snow had stopped, it was freezing, icy, and slippery. Many trees were uprooted. She was glad she didn’t lose power but knew that many people were without light and heat. She made me promise to be careful about watching out for icy patches so that I shouldn’t slip and fall.”

“Sounds just like your mom.”

“I know.”

“Then what did she say?”

“We talked about Daniel, and she told me something that we thought was so cute about him.”

“What was that?”

“He decided to get a haircut. She thought the only reason he would get one was that—at seventeen years old—he was in love. He was going to do it right after school.”

“He’s cute,” I said.

“Then Mom told him she thought it was a good idea to get a haircut because he was so handsome and that way she could see his whole face.”

“What did he say?”

“He said nothing, just blushed.”

“And what about Sarah?”

“Mom called her ‘a rip.’ A sixteen-year-old who thinks she’s thirty. I promised Mom I would talk to her and said that Sarah would be fine.”

“You’re right.”

“But Mom wondered whether she would really be fine,” Rachel said.

“Anything else?”

“Yes, I promised I would send her a new photo of me. She was noticing the pictures she had on the refrigerator. Sarah’s and Danny’s were recent, but mine wasn’t, and she wanted me to have a new photo taken. Then it happened.”

“I know.”

“It’s hard to talk about it, but Mom was just pulling into the driveway, about to get out of the car. She told me she was going to keep talking while she walked into the house from the garage and then empty her groceries. I heard her gasp and at first couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She actually did say, ‘What the hell’s going on here?’”