Simple Recipes Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Goodbye,” she said. “Goodbye.”
    Tom was standing there, his mouth open. “What has gotten into you? For Christ’s sake,” he said, shaking his head. “For Christ’s
     fucking sake.” He picked up what was left and pushed past us to the gravel parking lot.
    “For
Christ’s fucking sake,”
Joanne said.
    Irene just stood and watched us, her expression calm. There were drops of water on her skin and the sun caught on them and
     made them glitter. She started to move closer but we stared her down. She stopped walking, brushed her foot in the dirt, and
     drew a line. Her voice was low. “You don’t believe me now, but it’s better like this. I know you think it couldn’t be. You
     think nothing is worse than this. But believe me, there are worse things.”
    She put her arms around our shoulders and took us with her, back to the car.
    Off the rocks and onto the gravel, I tried not to hear anything, not Tom or Irene or my sister’s shoes on the rocks or the
     wind on the ocean or the rain starting to fall. We got into the car and Tom pulled roughly away from the parking lot.
    After the car hit the highway, we were going fast and smooth. Tom said, “This is what I think. I think we should leave tomorrow.
     You don’t think he’ll follow us, right? You said so yourself, he doesn’t give a damn. Four days is long enough. If he doesn’t
     care, let’s just go.”
    Our bodies fell together as if the car were tipping, one body slumped to the next. Irene’s voice was barely audible. “Yes,”
     she said, nodding. “Let’s leave tomorrow.”
    Joanne was crying in the back seat. “How do you know?” she said. “How do you know he doesn’t care?”
    Helen put her hand on Joanne’s head and stroked it back and forth. “Mom left a note. I saw it. He could come if he wanted
     to.”
    Tom looked sideways at Irene then back at the road.
    “You have to tell us where we’re going,” Helen said. “It isn’t fair to keep us in the dark.”
    “To stay with my sister,” Tom said. “She has a cottage, right beside the ocean, just like here.”
    Irene’s voice was barely audible. “Tom and I will take care of everything. When it’s warm you can swim in the ocean. I’m going
     to get a job. In a store maybe. You’ll meet all new kids.”
    “We already have friends,” Helen said.
    “New kids,” Irene said, smiling stubbornly. “You’ll make new friends.”
    Joanne shook her head. “We don’t want new friends or a new school. You said we’d go back. You promised. You said we’d stay
     here a few days and then go home.”
    Tom cut in, “Look, it isn’t easy for any of us.”
    “I don’t know,” Irene said.
    “How come you can’t keep your promises?”
    “Don’t talk to me that way.”
    “You
lied
to us. You said we’d go home.”
    “I didn’t say that. I said maybe. Maybe isn’t the same thing. And anyway it’s too late to go back now.”
    “Why is it too late?”
    “Because I’ve decided, okay?”
    “You never asked us,” Joanne said. “Maybe we would have stayed with him. Maybe we wouldn’t have missed you. Do you understand?
     I miss him, maybe we wouldn’t have missed you.”
    Irene didn’t move. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen.”
    She leaned towards Tom and then she half turned and her face was against his sleeve. We were waiting for her to lash out,
     to bang her fist against the window or throw something, smash the cassette tapes on the floor. But she stayed where she was
     and Tom patted her shoulder steadily. My sisters and I held still, as if we could change things by refusing to move.
    The car hit eighty, ninety, one-twenty, and Tom looked sideways at Irene. He was nothing like our father. Tom’s face was handsome
     and strong, and his hair, light blond, curled in tufts. Our father’s face was dark and sad. Our father combed his hair with
     Brylcreem until it shone. He smelled of eucalyptus and cooking and warmth.