"M. Rickert - Anyway" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rickert Mary)

banana filling and chocolate chip-studded chocolate frosting. I feel quite queasy by
this point, the leftover pot roast congealing in the roaster on top of the stove,
Robbie's and my father's plates gleaming with a light gray coatingтАФit was all I could
do to eat my salad. "Why don't we have our cake in the living room?" I say.

"Aw, no," my father says. "You don't have to get all fancy for me."
But Robbie sees something in my face that causes him to stand up quickly. "Come
on, Pops," he says, and, as my father begins to rise, "you and mom go in the living
room and talk. I'll bring out the cake."

I try not to notice the despair that flits over my father's face. I take him by the
elbow and steer him into the living room, helping him into the recliner I bought
(though he does not know this) for him.

"I saw Mom today," I say.

He nods, scratches the inside of his ear, glances longingly at the kitchen.

I steel myself against the resentment. I'm happy about the relationship he's
developed with Robbie. But some small part of me, some little girl who, in spite of
my forty-five years, resides in me and will not go away, longs for my father's
attention and yes, even after all these years, approval.

"She asked me the strangest question."

My father grunts. Raises his eyebrows. It is obvious that he thinks there is nothing
particularly fascinating about my mother asking a strange question.

"One time," he says, "she asked me where her dogs were. I said, 'Meldy, you know
you never had any dogs.' So she starts arguing with me about how of course she's
always had dogs, what kind of woman do I think she is? So, later that day I'm
getting ice out of the freezer, and what do you think I find in there but her
underwear, and I say, 'Meldy, what the hell is your underwear doing in the freezer?'
So she grabs them from me and says, 'My dogs!'"

"Ha-a-appy Birrrrrthday to youuuu." Robbie comes in, carrying the cake blazing with
candles. I join in the singing. My father sits through it with an odd expression on his
face. I wonder if he's enjoying any of this.

Later, when I drive him home while Robbie does the dishes, I say, "Dad, listen, today
Mom, for just a few seconds, she was like her old self again. Something you said
tonight, to Robbie, reminded me of it. Remember how you said that during the war
it was like you were saving the world?" I glance at him. He sits, staring straight
ahead, his profile composed of sharp shadows. "Anyway, Mom looked right at me,
you know, the way she used to have that look, right, and she said, 'What if you
could save the world? What if all you had to do was sacrifice one life and there would
be no more war, would you do it?'"

My father shakes his head and mumbles something.