But you’ve got to have your own life, Victoria. You have to go on with it.
I have my own life, she said. I have it here. Because of you and Harold. Where do you think I would be without the two of you? I might still be in Denver or on the street. Or with Dwayne in his apartment, which would be even worse.
Well, I’m still awful glad you come back. I won’t ever forget that. But you have to go on now and do what you said you wanted to.
That was before Harold was killed.
I know, but Harold would want you to go on. You know he would.
But I’m worried about you.
I’m all right. I’m still a pretty tough old bird.
No you’re not. You just had your cast taken off. You’re still limping.
Maybe a little. But that don’t matter.
And Mr. Guthrie has stopped coming out to help you like he was before.
I told him not to. I can manage by myself now. He’ll come out again when I need him. Raymond looked at the girl across the table and reached over and patted her hand. You just got to go on, honey. It’s all right now.
Well, it just makes me feel like you’re trying to get rid of me.
No. Now, don’t you ever think that. You’ll come back in the summertime and all the holidays between now and then. I expect you to. I’ll be upset if you don’t. You and me, we’re bound together the rest of our lives. Don’t you believe that?
She stared at him for a long moment. Then she drew her hand out from under his and stood up and began to clear the table.
Raymond watched her. You must be mad at me now, Victoria, he said. I just guess you are. Is that it?
You better not try to talk me out of coming home.
Why Jesus God, honey. I wouldn’t be trying to talk you out of anything if there was some other way. Don’t you see? I’m going to be about as lonesome as a old yellow dog around here, without you and Katie.
She took up the plates and the serving dishes and glasses and silverware and carried them to the sink and slammed them into the washbasin. One of the glasses broke. It cut her finger and she stood over the sink with tears brimming in her dark eyes. Her heavy black hair fell about her face and she looked slim and beautiful and very young. Raymond rose from his chair and stood beside her, his arm around her shoulders.
And I’m not crying about this broken glass either, she said. Don’t you think that I am.
Oh, I guess I know that, honey, he said. But come on, let’s get these dishes cleaned up here before we make any more mess out of things.
I don’t like it, she said. I don’t care what you say.
I know, he said. Where’s that dishrag? I’m going to wash.
No. You go on and get out of here. At least I’m going to do this much. Go back to the parlor and read your paper. At least you can’t stop me from doing the dishes.
But you know it’s the right thing, don’t you.
She looked up at him. Raymond was studying her face, his faded blue eyes regarding her with considerable kindness and affection. I suppose I don’t have to like it, she said.
I don’t like it myself, he said. We just both know it’s got to be this way. It don’t seem to matter at all what we like. It’s how things are.