Strange but True Read Free Page A

rack hanging by the telephone, to the empty metal pot rack above his mother’s head.
    â€œWould you like something to drink?” Philip asks. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”
    â€œThanks. But I can’t have caffeine because of the baby.”
    This response relieves him, because he’d been wondering if someone so far along in a pregnancy should be driving, let alone walking around without a coat on such a frigid winter night. But Philip decides that maybe she knows what she’s doing after all. Melissa tells him that she’d like water instead, so he pours her a glass from the Brita pitcher, then takes a mug from the cabinet for his coffee. It is one of his mother’s from her days as the head librarian at Radnor Memorial Library, and the question Can You Do the Dewey? wraps around the side. Philip sits at the table and stirs while his mind busily churns up random details about Melissa that he’d all but forgotten: her father is a minister at the Lutheran church, and Ronnie used to complain about how strict he was; she has a twin sister named Tracy or Stacy; she had been accepted to Penn, just like Ronnie. “So I guess you’re done with college by now,” Philip says in an effort to get the conversation moving.
    Melissa shakes her head. “I never went.”
    â€œBut I thought you got into Penn?” He remembers specifically because he hadn’t bothered to apply to any decent schools like that one, since he was too busy getting the crap beaten out of him in high school to earn the kind of grades he needed.
    â€œI did get in,” Melissa says. “I decided not to go.”
    â€œSo where are you living these days?”
    â€œRight here in Radnor.”
    â€œWith your parents?”
    She is about to answer when his mother leaves her stool and comes to the table. “Listen, you two can chat all night after I go to bed. But it’s late. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to skip the small talk. Why don’t you tell us whatever it is you want to tell us?”
    â€œM!” Philip shouts. “Don’t be so rude!”
    â€œIt’s okay,” Melissa tells him, rubbing her hand on the exact center of her stomach where the Indian print comes together in a tangled cross. In her faint, shaky voice, she says to his mother, “Of course you want to know why I’m here.”
    â€œYou’re right. I do. So let’s get on with it.”
    Philip doesn’t bother to reprimand her again—not that it ever does any good anyway.
    Melissa clears her throat and slowly picks up the glass from the table. When she takes a sip, her fingers are shaking so much that water sloshes over the rim and dribbles down her chin. She wipes it with her sleeve, then opens her mouth to speak, showcasing those unsightly black gaps front and center in her mouth. This is how she begins, this is how all the madness of the coming days begins: “I understand that it must seem strange for me to appear back in your life after all these years. But … well, I’ve thought about your family a lot as time has gone by. Especially you, Mrs. Chase. Because there can’t be anything worse than a mother losing her child.”
    Philip glances at his mother and sees that her face has softened. For her, grieving has been a competition these past five years—the slightest acknowledgment that she is the winner makes her happy. With that last comment, Melissa may as well have draped a gold medal over her head.
    Melissa goes on: “And I’ve never once stopped thinking about Ronnie either. That’s why … well… I’m sorry I’m so nervous. It’s just that I’ve thought about this moment for a long time. I wanted to come and tell you, months ago. But I was afraid.”
    â€œAfraid of what?” Philip asks.
    â€œThat you wouldn’t believe me.”
    â€œBelieve what?”
    â€œBelieve that—”