“Don’t say hate,” her mother said, predictably.
“Well then,” Claire said, blowing on her nails again, “I dislike her tremendously.”
Her mother tried to hide a smile, but Claire glimpsed it.
“What’s so bad about Gloria Delray?” her mother said. She was debating whether or not it was safe to apply the next coat of polish.
“She thinks she’s so great,” Claire said.
“Is she?”
Claire glared at her mother.
“Is she great?” her mother asked.
“Well, she’s a good cheerleader,” Claire said, reluctantly.
“So are you,” her mother said, pointing a perfect finger at her.
“Not as good as her,” Claire admitted.
“Then work harder at it. Practice more.”
“How did you know you loved Daddy?” Claire asked as her mother took her hand in her own soft one and carefully applied the final coat of polish to each of her short square nails.
This time her mother didn’t hide her smile. “He walked in that dance and I saw him and I thought That is the man I’m going to marry.”
Claire sighed in frustration.
“But how could you know that?” she asked.
“Don’t wiggle,” her mother said. She seemed to be considering Claire’s question carefully. “He had confidence. Broad shoulders and a certain way of entering a room that told me he would be a good husband. A man who would get things done. Take care of things.”
Claire watched the lovely top of her mother’s ash blonde hair as she slowly moved the brush from bottle to nail.
“This was before the world went crazy, of course,” her mother said finally. “The stock market hadn’t crashed. People hadn’t lost all their money. Banks hadn’t closed.” She shook her head, remembering. “People were . . . I don’t know . . . hopeful. Black Friday and the war took away all that hope, I’m afraid.”
“You knew you loved him because you felt hopeful?” Claire persisted.
Her mother laughed. “Maybe. Yes. Back then, you could take a look at a man and believe the two of you were going to fall in love and live happily ever after.”
“I feel hopeful,” Claire said even though she wasn’t sure she did feel hopeful. Or even understand what her mother was talking about.
Her mother kissed the palm of Claire’s hand.
“That’s good, sweetheart. Don’t ever lose that. Love goes out the window when there’s no money, you know. A woman has to stay strong. Men aren’t really very strong at all.”
“They aren’t?” Claire said. She thought about Danny Jones, the quarterback who went out with Gloria Delray, the boy every girl including Claire longed to have notice her. Danny Jones looked very strong. Once, Claire had seen him pick Gloria up by the waist as if she were weightless.
“At the first sign of trouble, a man falls apart. That’s why women have to work so hard to stay optimistic and upbeat, to be frugal and understanding. To not question everything,” her mother added.
Later, when her mother came in to kiss her good night, Claire asked her if love felt like ginger ale bubbles.
“What you want,” her mother said, “is someone who can take care of you. A man who can provide for you and your children. Someone steady. Someone predictable. If you want to feel ginger ale bubbles, Claire, drink a glass of ginger ale.”