House Under Snow Read Online Free PDF Page B

I would never let myself need anyone. To me, need was associated with powerlessness, with a woman taken to her bed. But even as I vowed to be strong, I heard a branch breaking above me, like my resolve.
     
    In the weeks after the night of the bonfire, Lilly began to go out with men. I was then in second grade. My mother went out with a different man almost every night. Soon these dates would dominate the rhythm of our house. One afternoon we heard her on the phone to Aunt Adrienne who had set her up. “Steve Kennedy? Well, what does he look like? Has he been married before?” she drilled.
    I stood in wonderment, watching how excited my mother got before a date. She spent hours in a crazed whirlwind preparing for her evening out, as though her very being depended on this candlelight dinner at the most expensive, most elegant restaurant in town.
    “What are we having for dinner?” Louise asked Lilly. We were used to having our mother with us, if not her undivided
attention. It was hard at first for us to believe she was leaving us, even for a night.
    “She doesn’t care if we starve,” Ruthie said, pulling out a few strands of her hair.
    “Ruthie, stop that,” Lilly told her. “You’re going to ruin your gorgeous hair. Come here and help me get ready. I’m going to be late.”
    Lilly twirled her hair in a lazy French twist and pinned it against the back of her head. “Anna, run down the basement and bring up my stockings. They’re hanging on the line. Louise, see if I have any clean panties in my top drawer. Little angels,” Lilly added, impatiently, “I’ll stay home tomorrow night. I promise.”
    “Cross your heart?” said Louise.
    “You said last night that you were staying home tonight,” Ruthie said.
    “Well, that was before Steve Kennedy called,” Lilly said.
    I watched as my mother looked at herself in the mirror, as though she were examining a hidden scar she had not wanted to remember, then motioned for us to sit down on her bed. As she stood over us, her robe opened and revealed the tops of her full breasts.
    “Girls,” she started. “I have to go out. Don’t you understand? Your old mom won’t be able to meet anyone if she stays home every night. Don’t you want me to be happy? Don’t you want a father?”
    “So, are you going to marry Steve Kennedy?” one of us asked.
    “We’ll see,” Lilly said.
    My mother’s nipples, surrounded by dark circles, were erect and so hard it seemed as if they must hurt.
    Louise sat on the bed. She looked like she was going to cry.
    “Let me see my smiles,” Lilly said, drawing a line across our lips with her finger. “Wait till you meet Mr. Kennedy. He’s so handsome. You’re going to like him. I can feel it.”
    “But what will you do?” Louise asked.
    “We’ll have a nice long dinner with wine and candlelight.”
    “What will you talk about?”
    “Oh, all kinds of things,” Lilly said. “Some men like it if you just sit back and listen and smile and tilt your head; and others like it if you’re bubbly and can’t stop talking. You learn to figure out what a man wants.” Lilly stopped herself. “Look at the time. If I don’t hurry we won’t have time for my exercises.”
    Lilly walked to the closet, took out a padded mat, and spread it over the faded olive carpet in her room. She went into the bathroom, slipped off her robe, and put on her bra and panties. My sisters and I sat silent on the bed, watching her through the half-open bathroom door.
    The flowery smell of our mother’s soaps and oils enclosed us. When she was washing the dishes or had her hands gripped around the steering wheel of the car, she stopped what she was doing to lift up her hands and hold out her slender fingers, admiring her polished nails against the light. She wore her dark red hair, the color of autumn leaves, to her shoulders, with the ends curled up in a flip, and on her lips, which dipped in the center like a heart, scarlet lipstick. It left its