The Good Sister by Drusilla Campbell

Author:Drusilla Campbell [Campbell, Drusilla]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Contemporary Women, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 0446535788
Publisher: Hachette Digital, Inc.
Published: 2010-10-01T07:57:33+00:00

More people came into the bar and now the tables and barstools were full. Across from Ellen the place where Dennis Dwight was meant to sit confronted her like a toothless grin. She didn’t wear a watch but she sensed that she’d been sitting in the bar at least forty-five minutes. Meetings at Starbucks were better. In a coffee shop she could read a newspaper as she waited. If she finished her coffee and left, no one had to know that she’d been stood up.

A tall man in a gray suit—expensive though a little snug and a few years out of style—stood at the entrance to the Mariposa Bar. He saw her; she was sure he saw her. He was the right age and his comb-over was presentable. He was definitely closer to seventy than fifty but she forgave him his lie and hoped he wouldn’t find hers out quite so readily.

She didn’t know if she should look at him again or pretend to be fascinated by something. The butterflies on the bar-back—brilliant turquoise and black with flecks of gold in their hugely magnified wings—were like the ones she and BJ had seen in the rain forest in Costa Rica. He called them flowers with wings.

She looked up, holding the rose, trying to smile, but the man was gone.

* * *

The night sky over San Diego was starless, the light of a million suns blotted out by the gray urban glow. To the east a cantaloupe-colored moon rose from behind a scrim of lemon-scented eucalyptus trees. Stretched out on a chaise on the terrace, thinking about that evening’s conversation with Ty, Roxanne found her mind resting easier than it had in many weeks. She dozed until jolted awake by the slam of a car door. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was too early for Johnny and Simone. A moment later her mother hobbled around the side of the house, one shoe on, one off, muttering under her breath.

A gust of warm, citrus-scented wind lifted the hair at the back of Roxanne’s neck.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“This dress cost four hundred dollars and I spilled red wine on it. I don’t even know why I was drinking wine. And these shoes!” She threw them over the edge of the terrace into the yellow lantana and walked on. She stopped and held up the skirt of her dress, which was discolored by a dark stain. “Maybe it was Scotch.” She looked at Roxanne. “Does Scotch wash out?”

Seeing her mother intoxicated brought to Roxanne a flood of emotions so old they were barely more than shadows cast by the memory of shadows.

“Did you drive yourself home?” Her mother nodded. “Mom, you shouldn’t have.”

“Stop managing me.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Why are you here anyway? Where’s Franny?”

“Simone fired her.”

“And you’re babysitting?” Ellen looked suddenly stricken. “No, no, no.” A moment ago she had been rigid with fury over a broken heel and stained dress; now she was close to tears, broken, a house of cards collapsing.

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