Fires. Essays, Poems, Stories

is continuing. I sit for a long while holding the paper, thinking, then I call to make an appointment at the hairdresser's.
    I sit under the dryer with a magazine on my lap and let Millie do my nails.
    "I'm going to a funeral tomorrow," I say after we have talked a bit about a girl who no longer works there.
    Millie looks up at me and then back at my fingers. Tm sorry to hear that, Mrs. Kane. I'm real sorry."
    "It's a young girl's funeral," I say.
    "That's the worst kind. My sister died when I was a girl, and I'm still not over it to this day. Who died?" she says after a minute.
    "A girl. We weren't all that close, you know, but still."
    "Too bad. I'm real sorry. But we'll get you fixed up for it, don't worry. How's that look?"
    "That looks.. .fine. Millie, did you ever wish you were somebody else, or else just nobody, nothing, nothing at all?"
    She looks at me. "I can't say I ever felt that, no. No, if I was somebody else I'd be afraid I might not like who I was." She holds my fingers and seems to think about something for a minute. "I don't know, I just don't know... .Let me have your other hand now, Mrs. Kane."
    At eleven o'clock that night I make another bed on the sofa and this time Stuart only looks at me, rolls his tongue behind his lips, and goes down the hall to the bedroom. In the night I wake and listen to the wind slamming the gate against the fence. I don't want to be awake, and I lie for a long while with my eyes closed. Finally I get up and go down the hall with my pillow. The light is burning in our bedroom and Stuart is on his back with his mouth open, breathing heavily. I go into Dean's room and get into bed with him. In his sleep he moves over to give me space. I lie there for a minute and then hold him, my face against his hair.
    "What is it, mama?" he says.
    "Nothing, honey. Go back to sleep. It's nothing, it's all right"
    I get up when I hear Stuart's alarm, put on coffee and prepare breakfast while he shaves.
    He appears in the kitchen doorway, towel over his bare shoulder, appraising.
    "Here's coffee," I say. "Eggs will be ready in a minute."
    He nods.
    I wake Dean and the three of us have breakfast. Once or twice Stuart looks at me as if he wants to say something, but each time I ask Dean if he wants more milk, more toast, etc.
    Til call you today," Stuart says as he opens the door.
    "I don't think I'll be home today," I say quickly. "I have a lot of things to do today. In fact, I may be late for dinner."
    "All right. Sure." He moves his briefcase from one hand to the other. "Maybe we'll go out for dinner tonight? How would you like that?" He keeps looking at me. He's forgotten about the girl already. "Are you all right?"
    I move to straighten his tie, then drop my hand. He wants to kiss me goodbye. I move back a step. "Have a nice day then," he says finally. He turns and goes down the walk to his car.
    I dress carefully. I try on a hat that I haven't worn in several years and look at myself in the mirror. Then I remove the hat, apply a light makeup, and write a note for Dean.
    Honey, Mommy has things to do this afternoon, but will be home later. You are to stay in the house or in the bach/yard until one of us comes home.
    Love
    I look at the word "Love" and then I underline it. As I am writing the note I realize I don't know whether back yard is one word or two. I have never considered it before. I think about it and then I draw a line and make two words of it.
    I stop for gas and ask directions to Summit. Barry, a forty-year-old mechanic with a moustache, comes out from the restroom and leans against the front fender while the other man, Lewis, puts the hose into the tank and begins to slowly wash the windshield.
    "Summit," Barry says, looking at me and smoothing a finger
    down each side of his moustache. "There's no best way to get to Summit, Mrs. Kane. It's about a two, two-and-a-half-hour drive each way. Across the mountains. It's quite a drive for a woman. Summit? What's in Summit, Mrs. Kane?"
    "I have business," I say, vaguely uneasy. Lewis has gone to wait on another customer.
    "Ah. Well, if I wasn't tied up there"—he gestures with his thumb toward the bay—"I'd offer to drive you to Summit and back again. Road's not all that good. I mean it's good enough, there's just a lot of curves and so on."
    Til be all right. But thank you." He leans against the fender. I can feel his eyes as I open my purse.
    Barry takes the credit card. "Don't drive it at night," he says. 'It's not all that