Missing Mom by Joyce Carol Oates

Author:Joyce Carol Oates [Joyce Carol Oates]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9780061748080
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2005-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

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“Nikki! What have you done!”

One weekday morning in July I was on the back terrace working with my laptop, trying to write a piece for the Beacon on a local sculptress that was already days overdue, when I heard my sister screaming before I saw her.

“Nikki how could you! I let you out of my sight for a few days and you’ve moved the furniture back, the Post-its are gone, you’ve even bought new plants! New plants!”

Clare had entered the house without warning. I’d had no idea she was coming. I’d called her a dozen times and left messages but she hadn’t answered. Now suddenly she’d turned up, screaming at me through the screened terrace door.

For so long, Clare had avoided the house, and me. It was like her now to show up, indignant.

It was like her to make me feel guilty. Damned if I would feel guilty.

“Look, we’d let Mom’s plants die. No one watered them for weeks, all I’ve done is replace them.”

“ ’Replace them’! Are you crazy! You can’t live here!”

I was barefoot. I was dressed you might say casually. I hadn’t expected any visitors. I went to join Clare inside the house, where she was storming through the rooms.

“Nikki, you’ve been unpacking boxes? These things we sorted through, I sorted through, I spent hours tagging, that need to be cleared out of the house? You’ve been unpacking? All that we did last month, to get the house ready to be sold, you’ve undone? I hate you.”

I tried to calm Clare by touching her shoulder, and she threw my hand off in disgust. I hadn’t seen her in several weeks and was shocked at how puffy her eyes were, how middle-aged she’d become. There was a soft knob of flesh beneath her chin and her permed hair was looking limp in the muggy July air. I had to concede I hadn’t told Clare what I’d been doing; my feeling was, she’d abandoned the house and me, it was none of her business now.

Nor had I told her about Strabane’s visit. My call to the district attorney’s office.

I was saying hotly, “That isn’t true, Clare. I haven’t moved all the furniture back and I haven’t unpacked all the boxes. I brought some things over to Mom’s church, for their charity store in the basement. I’ve gotten rid of lots of things including most of Dad’s clothes and those old cane-bottomed chairs. If you’d looked more carefully instead of screaming at me—”

Now Clare was truly incensed. I stepped back, anticipating a slap in the face.

“Mom’s church? That church? That charlatan church, and that charlatan ‘reverend’? I told you, Nikki, we were taking Mom’s things to Good Will! I told you!”

“Well, you weren’t here, Clare. You—”

“We need to sell this house, Nikki. You know that, why are you behaving this way? This is an empty house, no one lives in this house, we must sell it.”

“I live here, and so does Smoky.”

Now it was as if I’d tossed a lighted match into a hornet’s hive.

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