Taking Terri Mueller by Norma Fox Mazer

Author:Norma Fox Mazer
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781939601391
Publisher: IG Publishing
Published: 2015-10-27T16:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

Phil didn’t sleep well again Monday night. Again he had many dreams. In one dream he saw a bejeweled train in the distance, like a fabulous child’s toy. Crying out with wonder, he called Terri to come and look. “You see,” he said to her, loving her greatly, “you see how it is!”

In his dreams, also, his former wife came back. She was striding down a street, yellow-tinted sunglasses up on her forehead, holding a Japanese vegetable knife in her hand. “You’d better hurry, Phil,” she said authoritatively, and he felt his anger at her harden like a stone in his heart. This anger woke him. In the bare darkened room, he stared at the ceiling and thought that the woman in his dream actually had not looked at all like Kathryn.

He glanced at the clock. Time to get up. He felt very tired and thought that it would be nice not to go to work. But then what? In the other room he heard the dog’s toenails click on the floor. He heard Terri moving around. “Good morning,” he called. She didn’t answer.

She didn’t hear me, he told himself. He dressed, laced up his boots, noticing that they needed a shine. Fleetingly he wished their apartment were nicer. He put keys and money in his pocket, then his wallet, first glancing at Nancy’s picture. Very glamorous, her hair whipping out behind her, a big white glistening smile. A picture to impress. He knew her better. The real Nancy was soft, giving, needing.

He thought of Sunday afternoon when Terri had disappeared for so many hours . . . And then her return. He thought of it rapidly, feeling somehow damaged, but also with a curious relief and emptiness. The phrase the dirty little secret came to mind. He yawned with that empty feeling and pulled up the shade. It had snowed overnight. The roofs were frosted with white. The first snow of the season. Going to his closet for a heavier jacket, he told himself that Terri’s insistence on knowing the truth reflected well on him. She had a mind, and spirit, too. This was the way he had brought her up. He would match her against any girl her age.

“It snowed, Terr,” he said, walking into the kitchen. He kissed her on the cheek. “Good morning,” he said again, and was surprised by an exquisite sense of relief when she replied, “Good morning, Daddy,” then turned, as on any other morning, to fill the coffeepot for him.

After the coffee, she cracked eggs into the poacher. Barkley was at the window, nose pressed to glass, whining excitedly at the sight of snow. Her father began their lunches. He was wearing a dark green plaid shirt, denims; his eyes were a little puffy. She felt that he looked at her uneasily. She felt sleepy herself, dream-filled; she was in a little trance.

She dropped slices of bread into the toaster, set out plates, silverware, napkins. They never rushed through breakfast. Her father wrapped peanut butter sandwiches, yawned, licked his fingers.

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