"I will be. "
"I will be ninety someday. That doesnt mean getting there will be easy. Come. " She took Angie by the hand and led her toward the sofa. They sat down, cuddled together the way theyd done when Angie was a girl. Mama stroked her hair.
"It was fun helping her get ready for the dance. It wasnt until later . . . after shed left . . . that I started thinking about . . . "
"I know," Mama said gently. "It made you think of your daughter. "
Angie sighed. Grief was like that; both she and Mama knew it well. It would sometimes feel fresh, no matter how long she lived. Some losses ran deep, and time moved too slowly in a lifetime to heal them completely.
"I lost a son once," Mama said into the silence that fell between them.
Angie gasped. "You never told us that. "
"Some things are too difficult to speak of. He would have been my first. "
"Why didnt you tell me?"
"I couldnt. "
Angie felt her mothers pain. It connected them, that common loss, brought them to a place that felt like friendship.
"I wanted to say only hopeful things. "
Angie stared down at her own hands. For a split second she was surprised to see that her wedding ring was gone.
"Be careful with this girl, Angela," her mother said gently.
It was the second time shed been given this advice. Angie wondered if she could follow it.
SUNSHINE ON AN AUTUMNS MORNING WAS A GIFT FROM God himself, as rare as pink diamonds in this part of the world.
Lauren took it as a sign.
She stretched lazily, coming awake. She could hear the hum of cars on the street. Next door, the neighbors were fighting. Somewhere, a car horn honked. In the bedroom down the hall, her mother was sleeping off a late-night bender.
To the rest of the world it was an ordinary Sunday morning.
Lauren rolled onto her side. The old mattress that had been her bed for as long as she could remember squeaked at the movement.
David lay sprawled on his back, his hair a tangled mess that obscured half his face. One arm hung off the side of the bed, the other was angled across his head. She could see the red smattering of pimples that dotted his hairline and the tiny zigzag scar that traced his cheekbone. Hed gotten that in sixth grade, playing touch football.
"I bled like a stuck pig," he always said when retelling the story. There was nothing he liked more than bragging about his injuries. She always teased him that he was a hypochondriac.
She touched the scar, traced it with the tip of her finger.
Last night had been perfect. Better than perfect. Shed felt like a princess, and when David led her out onto the stage, shed practically floated along behind him. Aerosmiths "Angel" had been playing. She wondered how long shed remember that. Would she tell their children the story? Come on, kids; come listen to the story of the night Mommy was crowned homecoming queen.
"I love you," David had whispered, holding her hand as the tiara was placed on her head. She remembered looking at him then, seeing him through a blur of tears. She loved him so much it made her chest ache. She couldnt imagine being apart from him.
If they went to different colleges . . .
That was all it took, just the thought of different colleges, and she felt sick to her stomach.
David came awake slowly. When he saw her, he smiled. "Ill have to tell my folks Im at Jareds more often. "
He pulled her into his arms. She fit perfectly against him; it was as if theyd been built for each other.
This was what it would be like when they were at college together, and later, when they were married. She would never feel alone again. She kissed him, touched him. "My mom never wakes up till noon on Sunday," she said, smiling slowly.