"Because there are so many of them here and most of them are good cooks," she explained.
After dinner she wanted me to watch television with her; it seemed Philip rarely did anything with her at night. He usually had work to do in his office, or if he wasn't working, he was reading. Dorothy had said he hated television unless he was watching the financial reports, which she thought were abominably boring. I wondered what had brought these two people together at an altar to pledge undying love and devotion until death did them part. It seemed the only romance in Dorothy's life was the romance she watched with religious devotion on her soap operas.
I thought about the things Christina had said and I thought about Cary and May and Kenneth, and all the people who needed me back in Provincetown. Wasting any more time seemed sinful. I would do no more of it, I pledged.
"I'm going back to The Egyptian Gardens one more time," I declared after dinner. That brought animation into Philip's face. "And I'm not going to leave until I get some truthful answers."
"Tonight?" Dorothy asked.
"Yes, right away," I said.
"Really, Melody, do you think that's wise, especially at this time of night?" Dorothy asked. She looked to Philip for support.
"I wouldn't suggest you do that," he said. "It's not very intelligent in light of what you have already experienced."
"Sometimes, we have to do what our hearts command more than what our minds demand," I replied.
"Inevitably that leads to disaster," he retorted.
I said nothing more, but they both understood I was going.
"I'd rather not have our limousine involved," Philip said as he rose from the table.
"I'll just call a cab."
"Philip," Dorothy said.
"I'm afraid I have to be firm on this," he told me.
"I understand. You've both been very kind and I'm grateful for your hospitality."
"It's not the first time my sister-in-law has put me into a difficult situation," Philip remarked.
"Why don't you wait until morning, Melody? Maybe then things--"
"Regardless of whether it's day or night, I don't want our car involved," Philip repeated, raising his voice. Dorothy sat back as if she had been slapped.
"I'll just go catch a cab," I said rising.
"You don't catch a cab in Los Angeles. You call for one to pick you up," Philip said. "I'll see that Alec does that for you."
He marched out of the dining room.
"Please be careful, dear," Dorothy said.
"I will." My heart racing ahead of me, I hurried upstairs to get my purse. Actually, I was happy Spike wasn't going to be driving me anyway. I wasn't sure I could look him in the face after what had happened in his apartment.
The cab was just pulling in when I stepped out of the house. I hurried to it and gave the driver the address. I was off for what I had decided would be my final attempt to approach Mommy. If I failed, in the morning I would go back East.
The Egyptian Gardens looked different in the evening, even seedier, if that was possible. Some of the lights in the lanterns along the walkway didn't work and some of the lights on the buildings were dead as well. The shadows draped longer, deeper, darker. The gate squeaked when I opened it and entered. Ahead of me at the pool, two young men were talking and drinking something from tall glasses. They turned my way as I continued past them. Just as I reached the far corner and started toward Mommy's building, I saw a man step out of the doorway and pause to light a cigarette. The flame of his match danced on his face and hair for a moment and I gasped and retreated into the shadows. It was Archie Marlin. I'd recognize him anywhere.
He still had short orange-red hair and skin the shade of milkweed, with freckles on his chin and forehead. Everyone back in Sewell always said he looked ten years younger than he really was, although no one knew his exact age. No one knew very much about Archie Marlin. He never gave anyone a straight answer to questions about himself. He always joked or shrugged and said something silly. But he had filled Mommy with enough promises to sweep her off her feet and have her go off with him.
I held my breath as he walked past me, a slick, small smile on his orange lips. He strolled down the walkway and went around the corner. I let out my breath, my heart pounding. I didn't want to face him just yet, if ever; but seeing him was the last and final assurance that the woman upstairs in that building was beyond a doubt my mother.
My legs felt as thin and weak as a scarecrow's legs of straw as I entered the building and went to the elevator. When the doors opened, I stepped in quickly and pressed Mommy's floor. My heart seemed to have risen into the base of my throat. How horrible, I thought, how horrible that I should have all this trepidation about seeing my own mother. In moments I was standing in front of her doorway, hesitating, my fingers lingering over the buzzer. Finally, I stabbed at it and waited.
The door was thrust open and Mommy was standing there in a bathrobe, her hair unbrushed, no makeup on, her eyes glassy. She wobbled and spoke before she saw who it was.