“Of course we did.” The twins were in the
hotel pool. Nina’d told them she had to run out
for sun screen.
“Where are they, then? Might be the last time
the twins got to see their Grandma’s pretty face.”
Her mother managed a monstrous, floppy grin,
and Nina did her best to smile back. “Best thing
that ever happened to me,” she said. For the
briefest of moments Nina thought she was talking
about her, or her twins, or both, and she had to
swallow back a gorge of emotion that seemed to
make her insides sweat. She started to thank her,
but her mother interrupted. “Every time I look
in the mirror, I smile now. I’m ugly, for the first
time.”
“I don’t--” Nina began.
“I know you don’t, baby. You’re lucky.” Her
mother turned her good eye on her, noticed her
expression. “It was a cage. Gave me nothing
but pain. Men couldn’t see past wanting to have
it. Kept me tied to the ground. Jason took it for
granted.”
“Bill,” Nina said.
“What?”
“Dad’s name is Bill.”
Her mother cut a look at her, then tried to
straighten the bedclothes. “Goddamn sheets are
like sandpaper,” she said.
J.K.
Jason.
Erin made the connection, skimming Wikipedia with her baby attached to one nipple or the
other.
“You have to meet him, Nina.”
“No, I don’t.”
“He’s a train ride away.” Which was technically
true. Manhattan was just down the line from
Nanuet, but she’d never told Jackson about the
letter--not that she had anything to hide--and
making up an excuse about a trip downtown
would be a lie on top of a lie. Besides, a year
since her mom died, eleven months since she received the letter and the money, six months since
she’d given any of it a thought.
Too much to deal with.
“What else do you have to do?”
Nina looked around the house and then the
empty February squares on the calender.
“You’d be surprised.”
“The stresses of a kept woman,” Erin said. “I
wish.”
Nina said nothing.
“It would be good for you,” Erin said.
“Like he’s made of broccoli.”
“You know what I mean. The Nina I grew up
with would be jumping up and down.”