What I Saw and How I Lied Read Free Page A

his hat, Mom came out of the kitchen.
    "Aw, Bev," he said, apologetic even before she spoke. "How am I going to keep you in mink and diamonds if I don't work late?"
    Mom turned around, her arms out. "You see a mink here?"
    Joe winked at me. "Well, maybe if you give your husband a kiss, Santa will be good to you this year."
    "It's still summer. You've got to do better than that."
    He walked to her and slipped an arm around her waist to draw her against him. She bent back a bit to look at his face.
    "You started without me again," she murmured.
    "Just a quick one."
    They didn't move. She was bent back in his arms, one hand on his chest. Suddenly I was just like the chair, or the hat rack — just a stick of furniture in the room. Back then they were everything I knew about glamour. Everything I knew about love.
    Grandma Glad poked her head out into the hallway. "Someone called for you, Joe."
    My mother's mouth turned down. It was funny, how the two of them competed, even for the telephone. It made Grandma Glad happy to be able to give Joe his messages, like she outranked Mom.
    "It's the same man who called before," Grandma Glad said. She folded her arms over one of the dark blue dresses she always wore. Some of them had flowers and some of them had dots, but they all looked the same. "The one who asked about you, were you the Joe Spooner from the Forty-second."
    "Oh, for crying out loud! Next time he calls, tell him I'm not home," Joe said. "Another ex-GI looking for a job. I'm home now — I want to eat dinner and relax."
    This wasn't like Joe. Usually he was happy to talk on the phone. He'd bellow into the receiver while he crossed his ankles and leaned against the wall. He'd say, "Hello, Al," or "Bill, how do?" And then, "Terrible, how are you?"
    Joe had what
Every Young Girl's Guide to Popularity
called "easy charm." I didn't have it. It didn't seem to be something you could learn from a book, either. When girls at school called out, "Evie, how do?" I wished I could yell back, "Terrible, how are you?"
    Grandma Glad disappeared back into the living room.
    "I wouldn't look so forward to dinner if I were you,"
    Mom said. "The potatoes are glue and the roast is overdone."
    She said it like a challenge. Joe only grinned. "Whatever you cook, I'll eat, Gorgeous."
    In the kitchen, Mom shoved the roast onto a platter. Joe poured himself his drink, Canadian Club on the rocks, and mixed Mom a Manhattan. He sat at the kitchen table. We heard the phone ring, and he took a long sip. He bared his teeth, sucking in the liquor, and then began rolling up his shirtsleeves.
    Grandma Glad appeared in the doorway. The kitchen light flashed on the lenses of her rimless glasses, and I couldn't see her eyes. Her hands were folded over her shelf of a bust, like she was already apologizing for interrupting, even though she never apologized for anything.
    Mom looked annoyed. She liked Grandma Glad to stay in the living room before dinner so she and Joe could have a drink and a cigarette together. If Grandma Glad came in early, she let her know it, down to the second.
    Mom said the house was too small now. I knew that she and Joe kept arguing about moving, and whether they had to take Grandma Glad. When they got tired of that, they argued about where to move. My mother wanted an apartment in the city, but Joe kept reminding her of the housing shortage. He wanted to move out to Long Island or New Jersey.
    "We've got the American Dream, Bev," he said. "But there's more of it out there."
    "Not in New Jersey," my mom replied.
    Now Mom banged the spoon on the pot, flicking off a dollop of potato. "Dinners not ready yet, Grandma Glad," she said.
    "I can see that," Grandma Glad said. "It's the same man on the phone, Joe — he says he must speak to you. Or he'll drop by later, if you're busy now."
    Joe's fingers curled around his whiskey glass. He stood up. "Christ, can't a man in his own house —"
    "Joe!" Grandma Glad's hand flew to her mouth, as if she was