I stand and look toward Lizzie with surprise as my mother steps naturally into my arms.
“I didn’t think she was that bad,” I say, my mind back at the Kenny Farm two nights ago. There, Lizzie had been the talk of East River. The dancing, swirling center of social gravity.
“Oh, she has enthusiasm,” Ma agrees in a stage whisper. “But no technique.”
“Perhaps I need a teacher, Ellie!” Unoffended, Lizzie calls out from where she’s re-energizing with a cup of coffee.
“You come here more often, girlie, and I’ll have you waltzing with the best of them! Caleb, what is this frame? I taught you better. Come on, lead, boy.”
Rolling my eyes, I wrap an arm around Ma’s back, take her hand more firmly in mine, and turn her about the room.
I hadn’t been lying when I’d told Lizzie I can’t dance. Ma’s lessons had been years ago and I’m more than a little rusty. Three times I nearly step on her toes and we only dance for two songs.
Still, by the end of it, she’s patting me on the shoulder.
“Not bad, not bad,” she approves with a polite smile. “We’ll have you two ready in no time.”
“Ready?” I ask.
Too late, I realize that I’ve lost her. One moment she’s warm in my arms, the familiar smell of her perfume in my nose and the next… She’s taking a step back and looking at me as if I’m a stranger.
“Well, for the wedding, of course. Don’t worry, everyone’s nervous about their big day, but the two of you will look lovely.” Ma looks around to wink at Lizzie. “Don’t worry, he’s got a little skill in there. We’ll at least be able to get him to a point of not stepping on your skirts, eh?”
I swallow, as my mom steps away. My arms feel suddenly heavy.
“Well, that would be good.” Lizzie’s voice sounds as if it’s coming from a long way off. It’s fuzzy in my ears. “The store charged a fortune to have it hemmed right. I’d hate to see it marked with shoe prints.”
Her tone is airy, but I can feel Lizzie’s eyes. They bore into me from across the room.
I know it’s just concern but I suddenly feel on display. Exposed and raw.
“Well, thank you for the dance, Mom.”
“I’m sorry?” The look she gives me hurts in places I’d never known before she moved here. I stare into eyes that are completely glazed. No recognition, at all.
“I mean…” I glance at Lizzie. She nods her encouragement. “Mrs. Walker. Thank you, but I think it’s time we were headed home.”
“Oh, yes, yes, of course,” she says, hustling us down the hall and out into the main corridor. “I should get myself a little more presentable before my next client, and you should be headed back. I’m sure you have plenty to do before the big day and don’t need to be spending your time with a little old lady like me. Oh look, such pretty flowers. I wonder if Margaret brought those over. She’s so thoughtful, you know. Have a good day now!”
And before I can so much as hug her goodbye, the door is shut firmly in my face.
For a moment, I can only stand there, absorbing the rejection and chalking it up to another day in the life of the Walkers. I don’t even realize the minutes ticking by until I feel a hand snake its way into mine.
“Are you okay?”
The quiet sympathy in Lizzie’s voice is a killer. God, how pathetic must I look to make her sound like that?
“I’m fine,” I insist. And I’m telling the truth. It’s not unusual for my mother to forget who I am halfway through a visit. Or not remember me at all from the second I walk in the door. Her memory always comes in fits and starts and we’d been lucky to get her for as long as we had already. We’d been pushing our luck to stay so long.
“You sure?”
I snatch my hand away and turn to stride down the corridor.
“I said, I’m fine.”
When I don’t hear her following, I pull up short. Guilt gnaws at my gut. She’s only trying to help. She doesn’t deserve my snappiness. I reach back towards her.
“I’m sorry. But honestly, I’m fine. Let’s go back. I’m starving. PB-no-J sandwiches are filling but they’re not enough to sustain a man.”