We Are All Welcome Here Part 7

"That was her wedding dress," Mrs. Gruder said from behind me. "Did you know that?"

I turned around. "No. I didn't know."

"Well, it was. She told me once. She's kept it all this time. She looks awful pretty in it, doesn't she?"

I nodded. My heart hung heavy and raw-feeling inside me. I wondered what my father had looked like that day, how he had felt, marrying the lively and beautiful girl who was my mother. I wondered what his life was like now. Did he ever think of us? I wanted to hate him, but I couldn't; I didn't know him well enough. Instead, I wondered about him occasionally, with a confused kind of longing. There was a place inside me carved out for him; I didn't want it to be there, but it was. Once, at the hardware store, Brooks had shown me how to use a drill. I'd made a tiny hole that went deep. The place for my father was like that.

Brooks had been pretty fancied-up himself, wearing what looked to be a new shirt and pants, his hair slicked back. He'd brought my mother a wrist corsage of white carnations and a box of Whitman's chocolates, and I was dying to take off the cellophane and the red bow. To have the whole array of chocolates before you, to be the one to get to choose before anyone! My mother had told me I could go ahead and open the box and have some, but I knew enough not to take her up on her offer. It would be wrong.

But now after Mrs. Gruder and I went inside and she disappeared into the kitchen to clean, I removed the outer wrapping, put my nose to the box, and breathed in deeply. The smell alone was delicious. I shook the box and heard the little pleated papers rustling around inside. I lifted the lid and admired the pastel-colored Jordan almonds, the caramels with their little curly designs. The rounded tops of the chocolate-covered cherries-those were my mother's favorites.

I carried the box around and tried it out on different surfaces. The coffee table in the living room, that's where it would be best, I decided. In the daytime. At night I would move it to her bedside. I put it there now, opened the lid, and slanted the box at a tantalizing angle. My mother would probably eat one chocolate a day; last time she'd gotten a box of candy-from Brenda, who sent it to her at Christmastime-she'd done that. But surely she wouldn't be able to eat all of it. I hoped for the Messenger Boy. He was the biggest piece, solid chocolate, and occupied a place of distinction-the very center of the box.

After Mrs. Gruder cleaned up the kitchen, she came to sit in the living room with me. There was something about the evening that became suddenly unbearable to me; I asked if I could go to Suralee's. I saw a quick flash of something in Mrs. Gruder's face-I thought maybe she was hurt that I didn't want to be with her. But to stay there would be like having to disrobe in daylight, like at the doctor's office. To imagine my mother in a restaurant, looking so nice and being stared at so mean, thrilled and killed me; I needed my friend.

"What are you you doing here?" Suralee asked when she answered the door. I hadn't called first; I'd figured that if Suralee wasn't home, I'd go under my own front porch for a while. Now here was this strange situation: Suralee was home, but she was not glad to see me. doing here?" Suralee asked when she answered the door. I hadn't called first; I'd figured that if Suralee wasn't home, I'd go under my own front porch for a while. Now here was this strange situation: Suralee was home, but she was not glad to see me.

I shrugged. "I just came over."

She poked her head out the door to look up and down the street. Then, "Come in," she said. "Hurry up. I have something to tell you." She was dressed in a skirt and blouse, and the scarf her mother had worn the other day was tied around her neck. She wore her mother's lipstick and eye shadow and charm bracelet, too.

"I have something to tell you, too," I said. I wanted to tell her all about my mother, but I knew I'd have to wait. Suralee had many qualities I admired; patience was not one of them.

"Those boys are coming over!" Suralee said.

"I thought you said tomorrow!" Here I was, dressed in donated mustard-yellow pedal pushers and a pink sleeveless blouse with a spaghetti-sauce stain.

"They are are coming tomorrow. But they're coming tonight, too." coming tomorrow. But they're coming tonight, too."

"So...should I leave?"

She looked me over, then said, "No. But let's change you into something else. You can wear my blue dress, only don't spill!"

I followed her to her bedroom. "What are we eating?"

She turned around to look at me. "Drinking. Booze. Booze."

I stood still. "What do you mean?"

"Booze! Liquor! I'm going to make rum and c.o.kes!" She went to her closet and pulled out her blue dress, laid it across her bed. She was nice to let me use it; it was new, and it was very pretty. It would be a bit big for me, but it would still look good. I stood staring at it.

"Hurry up!" Suralee said. "They'll be here any minute!"

"Maybe..." I said.

"What? Maybe what what?" The doorbell rang, and Suralee gasped and covered her mouth. Then she moved to her dresser mirror for a quick look at herself. She pushed at one side of her hair, smoothed the front of her skirt. "Hurry and get dressed," she said. "I'll keep them busy." She started out of the room and then turned back to me. "I'm glad you're here. What would I have done with two of them?"

For the first time, Suralee's acting talent failed her. I knew she would have been just fine with both of the boys. She would have preferred it. I wondered if she had done this before.

I stood still in Suralee's bedroom, listening to her welcoming the boys, telling them that she had a surprise for them. I looked at the dress again, weighed my options, then took off my pedal pushers and blouse.

"You've got to get out of here!" Suralee said. It was almost two hours later, and I lay ill on her bed. I'd thrown up, which made me feel somewhat better, but the room still spun. "My mother will be coming home soon," she said.

"She knows me," I said. Only I said noash. noash. I began to laugh. "It's okay if I'm here." My words were lazy and slow. I began to laugh. "It's okay if I'm here." My words were lazy and slow.

Suralee came over and grabbed my arm. "Get up," she said. "Oh, I knew I shouldn't have let you stay!" She began undoing the zipper to her dress and caught my flesh in it.

"Ow!" I yelled, from both the physical injury and the pain of her words. I yelled, from both the physical injury and the pain of her words.

"Shhhh!" She got the zipper undone and pulled the dress down. "Step out of this." She got the zipper undone and pulled the dress down. "Step out of this."

I did, with some difficulty. I was never going to see Suralee again. "I'm not coming tomorrow," I said. So there. So there.

"No kidding," Suralee muttered.

"What," I said. "You invited me!"

Suralee threw my pedal pushers and blouse at me. "I'm not even going to talk to you about this! You are drunk!"

"Ha!" I said.

"You need to go home. And of course we're not doing anything tomorrow-they don't even like you. Now get dressed!"

I started to cry. "Why are you being like this?"

She softened, just the slightest bit. "Diana. I have to get you out of here or we'll both be in a whole lot of trouble. We all will. Go home. We'll talk tomorrow; I'll call you as soon as I get up."

I raised a leg to put on my pedal pushers and fell down. "Whoopsh," I said, and started laughing again, though I also felt an enormous sadness expanding within. The boy I'd let touch me in both places already didn't like me anymore.

Suralee knelt beside me and helped me get dressed. Then she walked me to the door and pushed me outside. "Go!" she whispered. "And when you get home, don't talk to anyone! Just go right to bed!"

"Aye, aye, captain," I said, walking backward. I saluted smartly, then turned around and wove my way down the sidewalk toward home.

By the time I got there, the night air had sobered me up a bit. My mother wouldn't be home for an hour; she'd told me she'd be back at nine-thirty. That way Mrs. Gruder would have enough time to get her ready for bed and not have to stay late. I'd be able to speak a few words to Mrs. Gruder and go to bed-she wouldn't suspect a thing. She was dense that way.

My mother, however, was not dense that way. And she was home. As soon as I walked in the door I heard, "Diana?"

I drew in a breath and willed myself to be normal, then went into the dining room, where I leaned against the wall. "Hi," I said. Well done. Just a normal hi.

"Where have you been?" she asked, and I saw that I had not fooled her at all.

Mrs. Gruder was straightening bottles of pills on the nightstand, and I saw my mother's bare shoulders rising above the clean sheet laid over her-she slept nude to avoid the problems caused by wrinkled pajamas pressing into her skin. The large sheepskin she rested against at night had been placed behind her back; two pillows were under her knees; and a smaller pillow she used at her feet to keep them from flopping down was also in place. Obviously, my mother had been home for a while. When Mrs. Gruder heard the tone of my mother's voice as she spoke to me, she started for the kitchen. "I'll just finish up a few things out there," she said.

"Why don't you go home, Eleanor?" my mother said, but she wasn't looking at Mrs. Gruder at all. Her eyes had not left me. "Go ahead and call Otto."

"...All right, then." Mrs. Gruder went to the phone and dialed. Her number had a lot of zeros; I thought she'd never finish. "Come and get me now; I'll wait on the porch," I heard her tell Otto. She hung up the phone, and I heard the rustling sounds of her gathering up her things. Then, "Good night," she called out doubtfully, and my mother called back good night, again without taking her eyes from me.

After we heard the click of the front door, my mother said, "Come here, Diana."

I hesitated. "What. I'm here."

"I said, come here."

I stepped a bit closer to her bedside. She was still sitting up high; Mrs. Gruder had not yet lowered her to the forty-five-degree angle at which she slept. "Here!" "Here!" she said angrily, and I moved to sit beside her. she said angrily, and I moved to sit beside her.

She looked closely into my face for a long while, saying nothing. Then, "Light me a cigarette," she said, and I did, then held it up for her to puff on. All the while she smoked, she said nothing. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. "What?!" "What?!" I said. I said.

She drew in a last puff, exhaled over my head. "Finished."

I ground out the b.u.t.t in the ashtray for what was perhaps too long a time, then turned back to her. "Do you want me to lower you down now? Do you want to sleep?"

"No." She worked at dislodging a piece of tobacco from her tongue. I picked it off and flicked it away.

"All gone," I said cheerfully.

"Where were you? And what did you drink?"

"What do you mean?"

"Diana."

I looked down. "I was at Suralee's. And she...just...made some drinks. Just for fun."

"What drinks?"

"c.o.ke with a little rum, just a little." I looked up at her. "But did you have fun? On your date?"

My mother readjusted her head on her pillow. "No. I did not have fun. I was ridiculed and stared at. And then I was thrown out."

"Why?" I felt dangerously close to tears, but oddly, my sorrow was for me.

"It seems the proprietor had no idea about the extent of my disability. At first he didn't say much, just looked at me, you know that look?"

I made a pulled-in kind of face and my mother nodded. "Exactly," she said, with grim pleasure.

"And then sometimes they do like this," I said, and made a frankly horrified face, which made my mother smile. Maybe we were done with my sins and could move on to her humiliations.

"I'll tell you what happened next, Diana. Though I had my back to the rest of the room, as Brooks had promised, it seemed I was upsetting the other diners. They didn't like the noise of my respirator. They didn't like it that I had to be fed. One man came up to me on his way out. He said, 'What can you have been thinking, to come out to a public restaurant this way?'"

"What did you say?" I asked.

"At first, nothing," my mother said. "My mouth was full. I kept chewing and I just looked at him. 'Well?' 'Well?' he said, and then he said it again, louder, so I spit my food out at him. And then I said, 'Sorry, my mouth was full. Now we can have a conversation.'" he said, and then he said it again, louder, so I spit my food out at him. And then I said, 'Sorry, my mouth was full. Now we can have a conversation.'"

I saw the scene, some scowling man standing before my mother while his indignant wife waited by the door, holding tightly on to her purse, her jaw dropping after my mother spit food at her husband.

"What did Brooks and Holt do?" I asked, giggling in a kind of loose way that let me know I was still not quite myself. I cleared my throat, overcorrected my posture.

"They escorted me out," my mother said. "Because right after that I was told to leave. And never to come back. But I will go back."

"Why?" I said. "Why would you ever want to go back there?" I said. "Why would you ever want to go back there?"

Her respirator was on inspiration, but I could see the answer burning in her eyes. Then she said, "You know, it's so funny. What keeps any of those people in that dining room from being like me is just a virus, a thing in my body over which I had no control. Why did I get it and not them? Fate. Circ.u.mstance. Luck. But I have a place on the earth, just as they do. I have rights.

"When I was in the lung, I had people tell me every day that I had to get used to the fact that I could never have a normal life. Every day, they told me that I would have to come to terms with all I could no longer do." She shook her head, remembering. "But I decided to concentrate on what I could could do. When the shrink talked about how the disease would affect my personality, I talked about how my personality would affect the disease. I didn't understand why n.o.body...I kept thinking, 'I am me! I am still do. When the shrink talked about how the disease would affect my personality, I talked about how my personality would affect the disease. I didn't understand why n.o.body...I kept thinking, 'I am me! I am still me me!'" Her voice began to shake, and she closed her eyes, then opened them. "Wipe my tears away and give me a chocolate," she said.

I put a tissue to her eyes and then lifted the box up so she could see in. "Which one?" I asked.

She surveyed the candies carefully.

"The chocolate-covered cherry?" I asked.

"The Messenger Boy," she said, and I gave it to her with regret. I put the box back down, hoping she would say, around her mouthful of chocolate, "You take one, too." But she did not. She chewed slowly, swallowed, and then, in a more deliberate tone, she began speaking again.

"I promised myself that I would raise you, though everyone advised me against it. I promised myself I would pay attention to the world and keep on learning, maybe go back to school someday, though I knew how hard it would be. I thought I might even get married again. Everyone, everyone, everyone, said I shouldn't get my hopes up for that kind of relationship. I've given up on that, but I learned tonight that I can at least go out. I can leave the house. It's scary, but I can do it. And maybe someday I will go back to school. I know I'll be looked at. I know it'll bother people to see me. I know most people would say I should stay home, where it's easier for me and my caretakers. But what most people think isn't always the right thing." said I shouldn't get my hopes up for that kind of relationship. I've given up on that, but I learned tonight that I can at least go out. I can leave the house. It's scary, but I can do it. And maybe someday I will go back to school. I know I'll be looked at. I know it'll bother people to see me. I know most people would say I should stay home, where it's easier for me and my caretakers. But what most people think isn't always the right thing."

I sat still, hardly breathing. I had never heard my mother talk so much about this all at once. Everywhere around me, it seemed, people were saying odd, charged things.

"All your life, Diana, you're going to run into situations where you have to decide whether or not to take a stand. Sometimes it just isn't worth it. But other times it is. Not only is it worth it, it's vital. It makes you the person that you are. You have to honor what you know is true, or bit by bit, you die inside." She smiled. "So. Now let's talk about your your evening." evening."

Ah. "That's pretty much all," I said. "What I told you. It was just for fun, the rum. It was just a little. I didn't even like it, really. It made me feel sick. I won't do it again, I didn't even like it. So..." I leaned over to look at her clock and had to stop myself from falling on my face. "I think I'll go to bed."

"Oh, I think not," my mother said.

"Why not? I'm tired."

"Are you."

"Yes."

"Well, I'm not quite through talking to you. Let's talk some more. Who else was at Suralee's?"

How did she know know these things? I considered lying, but she'd been all right about the rum. Maybe she just wanted to continue our mother-daughter talk-she was very talky tonight. these things? I considered lying, but she'd been all right about the rum. Maybe she just wanted to continue our mother-daughter talk-she was very talky tonight.

"Oh yeah, she had these two guys over."

"And where was Noreen?"

I wanted to say, Well, you're so smart about these things, why don't you tell me? Well, you're so smart about these things, why don't you tell me? Instead I said, "She wasn't there the Instead I said, "She wasn't there the whole whole time." time."

"Oh?"

"No, she had a date, so she wasn't there. The whole time."

"Uh-huh. And who are these boys?"