Anything Is Possible(34)

“Oh.” Angelina wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Want to hear some gossip?”

“Oh yes,” said Mary.

“Remember Charlie Macauley? Come on, you have to remember him.”

“I do remember him. He was tall, a nice man. Then he went to Vietnam. Boy, that was so sad.”

“Yes, that’s him. Well, it turns out he’d been seeing a prostitute in Peoria, all the while telling his wife that he was going to a veterans’ support group thing. Wait, wait— Well, apparently he gave this prostitute ten thousand dollars and his wife found out and she kicked him out.”

“Angelina.”

“She did. She kicked him out. And guess who he’s with now? Come on, Mom, guess!”

“Angel, I can’t.”

“Patty Nicely!”

“No.”

“Yes! Okay, Patty won’t come right out and tell me, but she’s lost weight, did I tell you she’d gained weight and the kids at school call her Fatty Patty? Well, she’s certainly been very nice to Charlie, she looks wonderful, and they were friends anyway, kind of. So there you go.” Angelina gave her mother a meaningful nod. “You never know.”

“My goodness,” Mary said. “Angel, that is wonderful gossip, my word. They call her Fatty Patty, the kids at school? To her face?”

“No. I don’t think she even knows. Just once.” Angelina sighed, pushing her plate back. “She’s awfully nice.”

—

When they finished eating, Mary went and sat on the sofa. She patted the place next to her and Angelina joined her, bringing her wineglass with her. “Listen to me,” Mary said. “Listen to what I have to tell you.”

Angelina sat up straight and looked at her mother’s feet. She felt that only now did she see that her mother’s ankles were no longer tiny, as they had always been.

“You were thirteen. I came to pick you up at the library. And I yelled at you—” Mary’s voice suddenly quavered, and Angelina looked at her, saying, “Mommy—” But her mother shook her head and said, “No, honey, let me go on. I only want to say I yelled at you, I really yelled at you, I have no idea what about, but I yelled and you were frightened, and I was yelling because I had found out about your father and Aileen, but I never told you about that—until, well, you know, a million years later, but the point is, honey, I frightened you, I yelled at you, and you were frightened.” Mary looked past Angelina toward the window, and her face moved. “And I am so, so sorry,” she said.

After a moment, Angelina asked, “Is that it?”

Mary looked at her. “Well, yes, honey. I’ve felt terrible about it for years.”

“I don’t remember it. It doesn’t matter.” But Angelina thought she did remember, and inside her now she cried, Mom, he was a stupid pig, but so what, Mom, please, Mom—Please don’t leave, Mommy! After many moments, Angelina said, “Mom, it was so long ago, that stuff with Aileen. Did you leave Daddy because of that? Because it sure took you long enough.” She could hear the coldness of her tone. It was as if the wine had turned on her; she felt that cold toward her mother, suddenly.

Mary said thoughtfully, “I just don’t know, honey, but I think I would not have left.”

“We’ve never talked about it at all,” Angelina said.

Her mother was silent, and when Angelina looked at her she was stabbed by the look of sadness on her mother’s face. But her mother said, “Well, tell me, honey. Now that you’re finally here. Tell me what it’s like for you. I told you before, I fell in love with Paolo. Your father and I were not compatible in many ways, but, honey—I fell in love. So now you tell me.”

Angelina said, “He’s a bank teller, Mom. And this place is—” She looked around. She wanted to say “squalid” again, but it was not that. It just was not—it was not lovely—and it was a strange place with its high ceilings and chairs that were worn in their upholstery.

Her mother sat up very straight. “This place is beautiful,” she said. “Why, we have the view of the water. We’d never have been able to afford it if Paolo’s wife hadn’t had money.”

“She had money?”

“She has money, some. Yes. And he’s like me, he didn’t come from much.”

Angelina said nothing.

Mary continued, “The point is this. I am comfortable with him. I am in love with him, and I am comfortable with him. Your father’s family, as you very well know, had money, and your father has been very successful. Frankly, Angelina, I don’t give a damn about money. I like not having it, in fact. Except that not having it keeps me from seeing you.”

“You’ve returned to your roots.” Angelina meant this sarcastically, but she thought it sounded silly.

“My father worked at a filling station. We had nothing. You know that. Paolo does not have money and he does not have huge ideas of how to make it. If that’s what you mean by returning to my roots.”

Angelina stared at her own feet stretched out in front of her; her ankles were thin. “Wait.” She looked up at her mother. “So he lived here with his wife?”

“That’s right. She met someone and took off, and she left him this place, and we’re glad to have it.”