The Two-Family House(52)

“Aunt Helen?” There was no answer. Judith tried to tap her aunt’s shoulder, but she needed two hands for the bowl. “Um, Aunt Helen?”

“Mom!” It was Harry, shouting from across the table. Aunt Helen almost jumped out of her seat. “Harry, why are you screaming?”

“Judith’s been trying to give you the cranberry sauce for half an hour already.”

“What? Oh honey, I’m sorry. Here, let me take it from you.”

Judith handed over the bowl and gave Harry a grateful smile. He twirled his pointer finger in a circular motion near his right ear to show he thought his mother was crazy, and Judith suppressed her giggle with coughing. Her mother promptly patted her on the back.

“You should cut your meat in smaller pieces,” Rose said to her. And then, in a slightly quieter voice, but still well above a whisper, “The meat is dry enough to choke on.”

Judith felt her aunt stiffen. “Something wrong with the turkey, Rose?”

“I like the turkey, Mom,” George called out nervously, shoveling a piece in his mouth for effect. “Ish derishous,” he insisted, still chewing.

“Aunt Helen is a really good cook,” Teddy said, thoroughly unaware of the gathering tension. “The turkey is much better than what we usually have on Thanksgiving.”

“Thank you, boys,” Helen said.

“No one really cares how dry the turkey is,” Judith’s mother spoke up again. “I’m sure there will be plenty of desserts later for the children to fill up on.”

Judith saw Harry’s eyes widen across the table. Now do you see what I’m talking about? she wanted to say to him. Judith froze in her seat between the two women. Only after Helen left the table and retreated to the kitchen did Judith spot the unmistakable upward curl at the left corner of her mother’s mouth. Disgusted, Judith jumped up from her seat and followed her aunt into the kitchen.

Helen was standing at the sink, scrubbing at the roasting pan like her life depended on it. “Want some help?” Judith asked.

“Thanks, honey, but I think this needs to soak.” She took off her rubber gloves and filled the pan with Joy and hot water. “You should head back in there and finish your dinner.”

“I’m finished.”

“I guess your mother was right about the turkey.”

“No! Everything’s delicious! I meant—”

“I’m just joking, sweetheart. Don’t worry. Come. Sit down.” Judith perched herself on one of the yellow vinyl chairs around the round Formica table and Helen sat down next to her.

“Aunt Helen, I’m so sorry. What my mother said…”

“Oh Judy. I’m used to it by now.” She clasped her niece’s hand and squeezed.

“But it wasn’t always this way. You used to be best friends.”

“I’m surprised you remember.”

“Of course I remember. It hasn’t been that long.”

“It feels like a long time to me.” Aunt Helen sounded tired. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin looked sallow. Most of her lipstick had rubbed off except for a spot on one of her front teeth. Judith didn’t know what to say next. Suddenly her aunt didn’t just seem tired. She looked old. Under the unforgiving light of the dull suburban kitchen, Judith finally understood the irreversible nature of whatever had occurred between the two women and the toll it had taken. Even the most skillful tailor couldn’t hide a seam once a cloth was torn in two.

Judith decided to put away her thoughts and focus on helping her aunt. “Why don’t I start a pot of coffee and get the pies warmed in the oven. The others must be almost finished with dinner in there. Should I check on them?”

Helen slipped on an apron. “Sure, honey. You know I made those apple pies just for you, right?”

“Thanks, Aunt Helen.” She gave her a kiss on the cheek and walked through the swinging kitchen door back into the dining room. Harry helped her clear the plates, and for the rest of the evening Judith avoided speaking to anyone but him. Harry acted like nothing had happened—they talked about school and the paper he had to write for his class Monday morning. Later on Judith sat with him in the kitchen, where her mother wouldn’t see, and ate two pieces of Aunt Helen’s apple pie. When the evening was over, she went home with her family, took off her coat and immediately went to her bedroom.

It was the last Thanksgiving Judith would ever spend with her mother.





Chapter 39





NATALIE


(December 1956)

Natalie had been told the story of the blizzard that struck on the day she was born at least a dozen times. Of course she couldn’t remember it. The heaviest snowstorm she ever experienced came a few weeks before her ninth birthday. The weathermen didn’t call it a blizzard, but they did say fifteen inches of snow came down.

After two days of sledding and snowball fights with her brothers, Natalie was ready to go back to school. Miss Murray gave them extra homework because of the two days they had missed, but Natalie didn’t mind. It was Thursday, so she was in a good mood. At least she could do the homework with Teddy.

When they boarded the bus after school, Mr. Luther, the balding driver, hollered for everyone to sit down. Teddy pulled a comic book out from inside one of his textbooks and Natalie frowned. “Teddy, you weren’t reading that in school again, were you?”