Going to the Chapel Read Free Page B

expect her to know how to do anything useful.
    Before my mother could say anything, Aunt Ruth said that fortunately my mother didn’t need to worry, because she—Aunt Ruth—knew her Christian duty and would take care of my mother just as she’d taken care of my grandmother before her. That’s when Aunt Ruth offered my mother a job cleaning her house.
    If Aunt Ruth had said she was doing it because my mother was her sister, my mother might have taken the job. But Aunt Ruth said she was doing it because my mother was her half sister.
    My mother said she didn’t need a charity job.
    Then Aunt Ruth said that my mother shouldn’t be foolish. The only job my mother could even get without a high school diploma, according to Aunt Ruth, would have to be a charity job and, if my mother was going to be so picky, she could just go ahead and starve because she wasn’t likely to get another offer of employment.
    My mother said she’d rather starve than work for Aunt Ruth. Well, you can imagine the rest. From what I’ve heard, by the time the argument was over, mymother was stomping out of Aunt Ruth’s house leaving me with Aunt Inga. Aunt Inga is the oldest of my three aunts and the only one who is unmarried and, except for me, childless. Two days later my mother sent word that she’d gotten a job as a hatcheck girl in a casino in Las Vegas. She also said she still needed a little time to get settled before she took me to live with her.
    Aunt Gladys, my third aunt, said my mother got that job just to spite my Aunt Ruth and they all expected my mother to give it up after a few weeks when she’d made her point. But I knew my mother wouldn’t be giving it up. A hatcheck girl might not make a lot of money, but at least she didn’t have someone reminding her she wasn’t really part of the family all the time.
    My mother eventually became a dealer in Las Vegas. When I was young, Aunt Inga used to take me to visit my mother around Mother’s Day every year. We’d spend the night at one of the small hotels off The Strip and we’d have dinner and breakfast with my mother. Now, I am perfectly able to make the trip by myself, but I still like having Aunt Inga come along, so we both drive up to see my mother for that one weekend. My mother drives down to visit us some, too, but that one visit is a constant.
    I sort of understood back then why my mother had to leave rather than let Aunt Ruth make her feel like a charity case. I didn’t understand, however, why my mother couldn’t take me with her. I was only five, but I was on my mother’s side. She and I were both black sheep together. I believed she wouldn’t leave me alone for long in Blythe. She couldn’t. I was no more fullypart of the family there than she was. I belonged with my mother. I only half belonged with the others.
    Every night, after my mother had left, I got down on my knees beside my bed and prayed that God would make my mother come back soon and take me to live with her. At first, my prayers were very calm and ordinary. I managed to pray for a puppy in the same prayers. I really didn’t even think I needed to pray. I figured my mother would be back at Aunt Inga’s doorstep soon enough anyway with an open car trunk just ready for the suitcase I kept half-packed in the closet.
    I wasn’t asking God for a miracle in those days as much as I was just asking Him to help nudge everything along a little faster so that I would be settled in my mother’s home when He chose to send me that puppy I had also been praying for.
    As the years passed, however, I forgot all about the puppy and my prayer to live with my mother became more intense until finally it felt as if I was praying for the biggest miracle in the world. I screwed up my face and prayed as hard as I could, hoping God would notice and have mercy on me. He had to see my desire. I had certainly told Him what I wanted. I repeated my request over and over and over again.
    Finally, I realized no one was going to