Celia turned slowly and looked back at me.
"Did they do that?" Brenda asked.
"What?"
"Take advantage of you?" she asked.
I could see Brenda's eyes in the rearview
mirror. She was waiting for my answer and watching
my face.
"No," I said, and turned away quickly. I
couldn't tell her I just couldn't do it, especially in front
of Celia.
Neither of them said another word for a while, "We'll think of a better story to tell Mama,"
Brenda told me before we arrived at the house. "Okay.
Here's what you'll say. You'll tell her you went for a
ride with some of your friends, and the car broke
down. Don't tell her about the drinking. She doesn't
know much about the kids at school, so she won't
know how bad the ones you were with are. It's not
hard to see she's still as fragile as thin china. More bad
news could shatter her."
"I know how Mama is," I snapped back. "I'm
the one living with her now."
"Then you should know enough not to get into
this sort of trouble," Brenda returned.
"Take it easy," Celia told her softly. 'You and I
are not exactly angels."
Brenda calmed and lowered her shoulders. "Are we still going to dinner?" I asked. "No, it's too late. She's fixing leftovers. My
father hated leftovers," she told Celia. "He was a kook
for fresh food. He used to say the only thing he wants
warmed over is his feet in winter."
Celia laughed. Then she grew sad and said.