Stop Here by Beverly Gologorsky

Author:Beverly Gologorsky [Gologorsky, Beverly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, novel, Long Island, Iraq War, Widows, diner, war widows, war
ISBN: 9781609805043
Amazon: 1609805046
Barnesnoble: 1609805046
Publisher: Seven Stories Press
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

8

About Time

“Mom, sit down.”

“I’m making dinner.” The don’t-bother-me tone reserved for fussy customers, she’s brought it home with her. Okay, she’s overworked, working the diner kitchen . . . it’s not her thing. Damn Murray. Rosalyn’s illness, too . . . it frightens her—fear for those she loves.

“I can’t talk to your ass, Mom.”

“Darla!” She spins around. Without a bit of makeup, her daughter’s a stunner, the contrast, dark hair, light skin. “Okay, what?”

“You’re not going to be thrilled.”

“Try me.” The shag cut frames Darla’s small face perfectly.

“I graduate in June.”

“I know that.” Adolescent nonsense. She reaches for an onion on top of the ancient fridge, notices the scratch marks on the door from a thousand magnets.

“In July, I’ll be eighteen. I won’t need your signature. It’s May,” her daughter recites.

She fishes for the missing knife buried under a pile of dishes in the cracked porcelain sink. Christ, the place could use some rehab. “Work the summer for Rosalyn’s dad. Save money for the car’s down payment. I can’t—”

“Mom . . . Forget the car. I’m going to sign up.”

She stares through the window at an identical clapboard house. A breeze flutters the short white curtains that need washing. “No you’re not,” she says softly, her gut cramping.

“It’s the best way.”

“To what? Die?” She sits across from her daughter.

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“It’s out of the question, Darla.” If she raises her voice, they’ll fight. She’ll lose. She takes a deep breath, tries not to sigh.

“If I sign up now, I get an extra thousand dollars.”

“Money?” It’s her fault, all her worrying out loud about it. She’ll send Darla to her cousin in Arizona.

“You don’t have any. I need a lot.”

“They’re not paying you to attend the opera.”

“Mom, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re young and stupid.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s a horrible choice. There are only downsides.” Is this what women’s liberation has brought? She needs a drink.

“On top of the thousand, there’s a shitload of cash up front, so I could start a savings account. What am I going to do here? Work a few hours for Rosalyn’s dad, a few hours more in some supermarket till I save enough to go to a third-rate community college? It’s not how I see my future.”

“Spend the summer with your cousin in Arizona. I’ll scrape up the down payment for that jalopy you’ve been eyeing.” Maybe Murray will let her work Rosalyn’s shift as well.

“If you say no now, I’m going to sign up in July. So mull it over.” Her daughter strides out of the kitchen.

She kills the stove flame and grabs a bottle of Johnnie Red from below the sink, a glass from the drain. She pours a few inches neat, sits on the couch, and drinks it down. The door slams. Out for the evening. The sigh that’s been clogging her throat escapes. The girl’s right about one thing—there’s nothing special about living here. Darla could meet a guy and get pregnant. Her daughter’s too smart for that. How smart is

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