Apron Strings Read Online Free PDF Page B

mother said. “But we don’t have to do it quite so often, do we? I wish they could playbridge.” She folded an arm across her chest, leaned her opposite elbow on it, and held her chin in her cupped hand. She tapped her cheek lightly as her cigarette smoldered between her fingers. “Emily said shopping centers are all the rage in Connecticut—as if she’d know. The old dear is just trying to be sweet. This whole shopping center business is getting so messy,” she sighed. “I wish Joe would just give it up. Why can’t he leave things the way they are?”
    “Mm-hmm,” Ethel answered from the pantry as she carefully placed the china back in the cupboard.
    Gordy, Helen, and I sat at the table, silent as sheep.
    Ethel came back into the kitchen. “You and Mista Joe havin’ supper tonight?” she asked. “I ain’t had time to fix nothin’ for ya yet, but I can whip up a Welsh rabbit if’n ya want. I think Stuart’ll eat that.”
    “She made a sandwich when she came back from tennis,” Helen offered. “She went up upstairs and told us to leave her alone.” She looked at Gordy and me for affirmation.
    “No, Joe’s not coming back ‘til late,” my mother said. “I’ll get something then.” She went into the bar. We could hear her pouring herself a drink. She came back to her spot by the counter. “You’d think he was in love with that construction site by the way he—”
    “You chil’ren get on upstairs an’ put yo night clothes on. I’ll be up in a minute,” Ethel said, cutting in.
    I jumped up and ran out of the room. I heard Ethel say to Gordy, “You don’ need no mo’ sweets, boy, ya already had enough. Now go’n wit’ yo’ big self ‘fore I get me a switch.”
    I heard my mother giggle; the ice clinked in her glass.
    Summer had blossomed in all its glory and agony. One day—so hot having skin touch me was just plain annoying—I walked around holding my arms away from my body and keeping my legs as far apart as I could. Ethel had the afternoon off. Gordy was playing with a friend and Helen was napping. Stuart, who could never be counted on for entertainment, was “out.” With no hope of finding companionship, I resigned myself to a dull, hot afternoon watching TV.
    My mother was working on a jigsaw puzzle on the table in front of the sofa when I entered the den, my arms and legs akimbo. She greeted me with a forced smile; as if it was my fault that Ethel had the day off.
    “Is Ethel coming to fix dinner?” I asked.
    She nodded her head without so much as a glance in my direction.
    “It’s so hot. Why don’t we go to the beach anymore?” I whined, irritated by the heat and her acting like having to stay home with us kids was the end of the world. “Remember how much fun we all used to have? Remember?”
    She nodded again.
    “Can we go to the beach? It’s too hot here.”
    She didn’t look up from her puzzle. “Mmm, that would be nice, but no, we can’t.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because your father’s too busy, that’s why. You wouldn’t want to go without him, would you?”
    “I guess not,” I lied. At that moment I would’ve sold the whole family for a bus ticket to the ocean.
    Resigned to no beach trip or TV either, I pulled up a chair and sat down to watch her. “Momma, tell me ‘bout when you was big as me.”
    “Sallee you say, ‘Tell me…,’oh, never mind.” She hesitated a moment then sighed. “When I was your age, I had a piebald pony named Puddin’ Head. He was so fat his belly nearly dragged the ground. He looked more like a cartoon than a real live pony.”
    “Did you ride Puddin’ Head to school? I think it would be so fun to ride to school.”
    “No, we had cars just like we do now.”
    “You had those old-timey cars without any windows like in the
Little Rascals
?” It was always a mistake to mention television to my mother—you could never tell if she was going to say you watched too much and put an end to it forever.
    She laughed; it