59

 

       ELVIRA

 

    How many times have I walked this little bit of a hill?  I should sit down and figure it out one time.  And most times I have been by myself.  Night and day.

    It's funny, the girls down at the IGA all say how nice it must be to have my sister so close now, and I know they mean it mostly in fun because they know and I know how she is, but still I feel ashamed inside that I can't say I'm glad.  If that is a terrible thing to feel then I am terrible.  God forgive me.

    Art will say why didn't I say something; he'd've come down and driven me up, and I'll say that I could do with a little bit of exercise.  After all, I could have had Janice and Jim stop by on their way, but that seems so silly.  It's only a little ways.

    Then why do I mind it so?

    It's the aloneness of it.  It's that Lorraine'll never have to walk up a hill by herself and have all the neighbors look out their windows and say, That poor woman.  It's so nice that her family is near her now, in case she ever needs anything.  Anything's better than being alone.

    And I don't even mind it.  It's that they think I do that bothers me.  A body can get used to anything but the pity.  Doug says they aren't thinking that, but I know better; I've lived here all my life.  Heaven know I've thought it about other women enough times.

    I could blame it all on Earl.  I could say that if he hadn't died this all wouldn't have to be.  I wouldn't be alone.  Chances are Art would have never bought the old place.  Lorraine would never moved in there, in the house that was my momma's.  Things would be different.  But then again things would always have been different if not for one thing or another.  If Earl was alive          But I don't say that.  I don't blame it on him at all.

    It's really not that bad; I shouldn't carry on so.  It's silly.  It's just a little hill, and it only takes me a minute or two.  And I doubt that anybody is even home to see me walk it.  Everybody goes somewhere on Labor Day.  Or they're busy with themselves.  I've lived on this hill every day of my life.  First up there and then, after I married Earl, down the street.  It gets a little further every year, but I can still see it.  This year it got further than ever before, and I feel, as I walk it, that it gets just that much further away with every step.  I almost have to stop myself from walking faster to catch it.  Sometimes I think my senses have gone off and left me.

    A car horn honks behind me and scares the bejesus out of me.  I step aside and walk along the gutter.  The car pulls up beside me.  It's Janice and Jim.

    Here, Momma.  Why don't you hop in?

    Don't be silly.  It's only a few more yards.  Nothing to it.

    The jeep rides along beside me.  Janice leans out the window, her elbow hooked over the edge. Jimmy squashes his nose up against the back window.  I can hear Derek.  You're the one being silly, Momma.  How's it going to look, us driving up with you walking behind us?  It's going to look like we made you walk.

    I don't care how it looks, I tell her.  I'm almost there.  Don't you put that child in a seat belt?

    Why don't you hop on the hood, Mom?  Jim jokes.  Janice glares at him and tells Jimmy to sit down.  What'd I tell you?  You sit still while we're riding.  You got plenty of time to raise hell after we get up to Grandpa's    I guess I should say Uncle Art's, huh?

    Me get up on the hood of that thing?  I laugh.  I couldn'ta got up on that jeep in my best days, let alone now.

    It ain't a jeep, Momma.  Bronco.  I told you before it's a Bronco.  Jim doesn't

    It's okay, he says.

    Since when?  If I ever call it anything but a Bronco, you'd think I'd

    I said it was okay.

    That your ham?

    I nod.  Did I tell you what I was bringing before?

    Why would you have to do that?  She laughs.  You always bring a ham.

    For some reason that makes me angry.  I walk a little faster.  The jeep speeds up.

    Oh, I see Susie and Wes are here ahead of us again.  Every time we have a picnic I have everything packed to go the night before and the house set to order and everything, but do you think we can ever get started on time?  And they say women

    And they're right, Jim says.  Isn't that right Slugger?  He glances back over the seat.  Jimmy takes that as a signal to tackle his father's head from over the headrest.

    Just once I'd like to not be the last one here.

    I don't see Doug's car, Jim offers.

    Well, you wouldn't be so late all the time if you didn't stop and molest old ladies in the street, I say.

    Jim laughs.  Jimmy giggles.           

    Oh, Momma, you're not old.

    She'd like to believe that.  She likes to believe a lot of things.  The only differences between her and everybody else is that when she wants something to be so, it is.  Just like that.  No matter what anybody else says.  So I'll stay young and her daddy'll stay alive          or whatever it is she thinks about him.  Nothing'll ever change.

    Well, I say, Not so old as I need a ride from a jeepload of ruffians.  Go on.

    Momma!

    Jim laughs again and drives on ahead, turning into the driveway.  I catch myself smiling.  She's right; I do always bring a ham.