Comfort Food Read Online Free PDF Page B

feeling no pain, which had seemed odd, given the bruising. But then Gus had felt strangely numb herself, those first few hours with all the decisions and later all through the casseroles and the well-wishers. Through the nodding looks of approval at how well she was holding up.
    “I can always tell when someone has suffered,” said a woman—a stranger— at the book signing for her first cookbook in the mid-nineties. “You’re cheery on television but I can see auras. And sadness floats about you like a cloud. I just wish I could give you a hug.”
    Gus had demurred, thanking the fan for her concern.
    Privately, she worried others could see that far inside.
    “The seat belt, please?” The black car hadn’t moved from her driveway.
    Gus nodded at the driver and reached behind her for the shoulder strap.
    “Right, sorry, I was just distracted for a moment,” she said, giving a thin facsimile of a smile. That was one thing she liked about riding in cars—sitting alone with her thoughts. Because her travel time was finite, she never had to worry about things becoming too dark in her mind. Not like at home, where she preferred to do something with her hands rather than risk becoming morose. It had been easier when the girls were younger and had been noising up the place, fighting and slamming doors. They’d always provided quite the distraction. Now Sabrina and Aimee still took up inordinate amounts of her brainpower without even the relief or peace of mind that came from knowing they were tucked in at night. It was funny, in a way, how she fretted about them even more since they’d left home.
    Aimee was always the more solid of the two, serious-minded and capable.Even when she went through the sulky phase, as all teens did, it was short-lived. More an experiment before she settled into her role. One could always count on Aimee: a clever student, treasurer of the student council, then on to studying economics. She was a brain, that girl. Not to mention she’d been a great help in the AC days. After Christopher. When all Gus had wanted was to lie in bed—day and night—and think think think about the day he’d gone and come up with a plan of how to save him. She could convince Christopher to call in sick, thereby getting him off the road, or she could suggest he take the train instead of the car. Yes, that’s what she’d do. Instead of the policeman coming to her door, it would have been Christopher,knocking because he’d dropped his keys and famished for her mushroomlasagna. Only once she had determined how she could have saved him—soothing herself by endlessly reliving and analyzing and changing the day’s events to a better outcome—could she feel any moment of relief. A very brief respite before the reality of Christopher’s death kicked at her consciousnessand the shock and trauma started all again.
    And then there had been Aimee, waiting for Gus on the stairs in her pajamas when she returned from the hospital. Coming into her bedroom late at night, before Gus took to crying in the shower to muffle the sound, wide-eyed and watchful.
    “It’s okay,” she’d said. “I covered Sabrina’s ears.”
    Gus had had to get up. There was no other choice, was there? She would deal with herself some other time. Later. She wasn’t about to let Christopher down, and what mattered most, she realized then, were their daughters.
    And yet she felt more distant than ever now. Aimee rarely called, and when the two of them met, Gus found herself struggling to connect with her increasingly prickly daughter. It was as though that girl felt she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.
    Sabrina, on the other hand, had always been rather scattered. A bit of a flake, that one. Popular but naive; Gus wouldn’t have been surprised if she called home to say she’d sent money to Nigeria in an Internet scam. Trusting.Too trusting. She jumped into everything without looking and then came to Gus in pieces.
    When Sabrina had