Fine, eventually

That was the time in her life that Maria found it most inconvenient that the phone should ring. Yes, she had just finished a chapter of her required summer reading, but the record of “Nearer My God to Thee” wasn’t quite done playing yet and she hated to talk in the middle of a song.

As it ended up, she couldn’t answer anyways. Mamma had a strict rule about Maria not answering the phone when she was out of the house. It might be Papa Bellini though . . .

 

Papa Bellini.

 

The cello sounded more ominous now and her heart refused to stay with the approved beat. If it Mamie had died already, he might be calling Daddy because of that. Mamma was still on the plane over to see them.

 

When Daddy came back from cutting the grass, Maria had finished another chapter and had decided she was thoroughly sick of Wuthering Heights. Not only had the phone rung insistently through the end of the record, it seemed ridiculous to read of Catherine dying when she was waiting for such a thing to happen herself.

 

“Your grandfather says that your grandmamma has died, Maria.” Daddy almost missed setting the phone back in the receiver.

 

“But Mamma . . . Mamma can’t be there yet and she won’t have seen her and the baby. Mamie would want to meet the baby.”

 

Daddy’s ribs were hard and jutting like stones as he hugged her.

 

“She would have, yes.”

 

The past tense was mockingly unfair and Maria pulled away, towards the side door.

 

“I’ll be on a bike ride” she wavered and kept control of herself just barely until out the door and grabbing the handlebars of her bike. Blast helmets, she decided, and blast this dress.

 

Riding, the wind in her face was brisk enough that she couldn’t tell if she would have cried much. Everything was blown back and far away. But once inside the grocery store’s dark chill, two tracks under her eyes were cooler than the rest of her face. Maria dabbed at them absent mindedly and pulled her skirt straight. It was blue, blue as Mamie and Maria’s eyes. The same eyes, which was eerie when one set was now dead.

 

Toby’s eyes were blue as well, or at least very pale as she avoided a collision. He smiled and that lovely smile was an affront, laughing at Maria’s blue.

 

“How are you?  . . . Well, and your family too.”

 

Did he want an honest answer? More importantly, did she want him to have one?

 

No, she just was concerned with buying a bottle of water and leaving. Tears, even if you don’t notice them, take work.

 

“We’re fine. Just fine.” Maria smiled as radiant a smile as if he’d given her puppy . She didn’t leave time for that, not even time for an “I’m glad to hear that” or a “Nice to see you”.

 

She bought her water, drinking some in the relative safety of the heat outside which few braved and splashing the rest in her face and frizz of curls. Mamma would be disappointed in their slugabed state, but at a time like this, did curls matter?

 

Well, if only for appearances, yes.

 

Maria would find her brush from under her bed when she returned. At a time like this, it was important to act as if she was fine, because perhaps by extension, then her family would be.

 

It would make it less of a lie to Toby eventually.