See Maggie Williams there. She'd jump you and tear
out your hair you so much as batted your eyelashes at
Artrus. Everything all right with you and Robert?" she
finally asked.
"Yes," I said.
"I know that boy dotes on you, Laura. That's
why the other girls were making all that hissing about
you and him and Cary. They're jealous. Good," she
said. "I like to see them eat their hearts out," she
added, glaring at the girls across the room, the ones
who would never be seen sitting beside a Brava. She turned back to me.
"You make that boy happy, Laura, he'll make
you happy. Know what I mean?" she said, winking. I shook my head.
"If you're a good lover, your lover is good to
you," she said and laughed. "Never mind. I don't want
to pry. But I warn you," she sang, "you turn your back
on him once, and Robert Royce is going to be
snatched away."
Was she right? I wondered. Was Robert losing
patience with me? Would he turn away? And would I regret it, forever? If only these answers were as easy as the answers that came to me on my final exams, I thought, life would be so simple.
7
A Woman's Heart
.
Once, when I was much younger, I looked up
and saw Mommy staring at me while we were both sitting on the porch and doing needlework. "What's wrong, Mommy?" I asked because she had the strangest, soft smile on her face. She looked like a little girl, amazed at some wonder of nature.
"Oh, nothing, dear," she said. "I was just thinking how much you remind me of Belinda sometimes."
Then, as if she realized she had said something blasphemous, she bit down on her lower lip and shook her head vigorously.
"Don't ever tell anyone I said that, especially your Grandma Olivia, Laura. I shouldn't have said that. You don't really look like Belinda. Not at all," she emphasized and went back to her needlework.
Although I never mentioned it to anyone, not even Cary, I never forgot Mommy had said it, and whenever I had any opportunity to look at a picture of Aunt Belinda, I searched her face for similarities.
Then, one day, on a whim, I asked Cary to take me to the rest home. He refused at first. For us it was as off limits as a local bar. It was pretty much understood that Aunt Belinda was an embarrassment to our family and she was so mentally confused, it would be a waste of time to speak to her. If I asked about her, Daddy would say, "It's not your affair. Forget about her." Nevertheless, probably because of the remark Mommy had let slip from her lips and the curiosity it had stirred in me, I wanted to meet Aunt Belinda.