Paper Tigers Read Free Page A

say? I like them. This one isn’t much, though. The pages are all stuck together. You can only see one picture.”
    Her mother fanned the air again. “From the smell, I can believe it. It’s like someone dipped it in manure and rolled it in mud.”
    â€œIt’s not that bad.”
    â€œSorry dear, but it is. I think you have so many of them you’ve become immune. I wish you would collect something…more aromatic.”
    â€œLike perfume? Sorry, you have the market on that one. Do you want something to drink? I can make some tea.”
    â€œTea would be wonderful, but I can—”
    â€œNope, you stay put. I’m not crippled.”
    In the kitchen, Alison filled the teapot and set it on the burner before she turned the knob, hiding the tiny blue flames from her sight. She normally used the microwave to make tea for herself but it made her mother happy when she used the stove. Another check mark on her “Alison is making progress sheet.”
    Alison clenched her jaw. It was hard enough to make progress; knowing her mother was always taking notes made it harder still.
    â€œMom, are you hungry?” she called out. “If you want, I can make something.”
    Her mother came into the kitchen and fetched the sugar bowl. “No, I’m fine. I had a little something before I came over.”
    â€œYou couldn’t sit and wait, could you?”
    â€œOh you know me. I get itchy feet when someone else is in the kitchen. Maybe I’ll come over next Sunday and make you dinner.”
    â€œYou don’t have to do that. Why don’t you come over, and I’ll make you dinner.”
    â€œBut I like doing things for you.”
    Of course she did, but did she have to try so damn hard? Alison wasn’t going to shatter into pieces. She’d made it this far, hadn’t she? She held her tongue, said only, “I know you do.”
    â€œI’ve been thinking. I can add a cell phone to my plan at any time and since you go out walking now, I’d like to get you one.”
    â€œI don’t want one. I’m fine with the phone here.”
    â€œBut what if something happens? What if you fall—”
    â€œMom. Please? If I decide I want one, I’ll let you know.”
    Her mother held up both hands. “Okay, okay.” Her nose wrinkled. “You’re not really going to keep that album, are you?”
    â€œSure, why not? I might be able to get the pages unstuck and get to the other photos.”
    â€œI think you should throw it away. The man in the picture is horrible.”
    Alison turned away so her mother wouldn’t see her smile. “It’s just an old photo, and he’s just an old dead guy. He’s perfectly harmless.”
    â€œStill, it’s unsettling. Please, don’t keep this one.”
    Alison turned back. “Okay, fine. I’ll throw it out.”
    The tea kettle rang out with a high-pitched whistle, and they jumped in unison.

    After her mother left, Alison took a butter knife into the living room and sat on the floor beside the coffee table. She slid the blade between two of the photo album’s back pages and wiggled it fromside to side, wincing at the sound of tearing paper and pulling it out when it met resistance.
    She flipped it to George’s photo. Despite her odd daydream of broken glass in a slammed fist, his gaze held only a middle-aged man, dark of eyes and hair, from a forgotten time, his name lost everywhere but her own imagination. Nothing visible anchored the photo in place, and the edge of one corner bent out. She tapped the knife against her palm, set it aside, and slid her finger under the tiny separation. The paper crackled in protest, but the photo stayed intact. When the edge came up a little more, she poked and prodded the opposite corner until it lifted as well. The third corner wouldn’t budge, so she traced the edge of her fingernail around the last one, and with