A Condolence Call to Mrs. Barnes
On their way to pay a condolence call to Mrs. Barnes, Rusty insisted that Miri practice saying, I’m sorry for your loss. Mrs. Barnes lived in an apartment house on Elmora Avenue near Magie. I’m sorry for your loss, I’m sorry for your loss, Miri repeated. They’d left their house as soon as Rusty had come home from work, run a comb through her hair, freshened her lipstick and spritzed herself with Arpège.
“If she offers her hand,” Rusty said, “you shake it.”
“?‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ shake shake.”
“This is not the time for sarcasm, Miri.”
When is the time for sarcasm, Mom? Miri would have liked to say, but she knew better. Instead she said, “I’m not being sarcastic. It’s just…you’re treating me like a six-year-old.”
“You’ve never been in this situation and I’m trying to help you through it.”
“Nobody’s ever been in this situation.”
“Not true, Miri. We’ve been through a war, remember? And we’re fighting another one now. Some mother loses a son every day.”
“Can you fight two wars at the same time?”
“You mean Korea and something else?” Rusty asked.
“Yes, Korea and something else.”
“I hope that’s never going to happen. Things are bad enough with Korea.”
“So that means it’s a good time to attack us, because we’re busy fighting in Korea. Korea is a distraction, right?”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Rusty said.
“Never mind,” Miri told her. She heard Eleanor’s voice in her head. Korea is a distraction.
Corinne was at Mrs. Barnes’s apartment, but there was no sign of the rest of the family, which surprised Miri. The small living room was crowded with family and friends who had come to pay their respects to Mrs. Barnes. Mrs. Jones was in the tiny kitchen with her daughter Jamison, serving up plates of sandwiches and cookies.
I’m sorry for your loss, Miri practiced inside her head. But it turned out she didn’t get to say it to Mrs. Barnes because Mrs. Barnes was in her bedroom and didn’t come out. The other son was there, so Miri said it to him. And the daughter from Pennsylvania with her husband and little girl.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” She felt like an idiot saying it. Each of them took her hand and said, “Thank you.” It wasn’t as hard as she’d thought. But it felt wrong. She wished she could have told the truth—I was there when your mother heard the news over the radio, I was there when she screamed Tim’s name and fell to her knees, I was there when Fern grabbed her leg and tried to go home with her, crying, Barnesy—that’s what Fern calls her. Did you ever dream someone would call your mother Barnesy?
Rusty disappeared, leaving Miri alone in a room full of strangers. What was she supposed to do? She stopped in front of the family photos set out on the breakfront. Photos of Tim as a child, photos of him in his uniform, photos with his wife and two little girls.
Captain Timothy Barnes was handsome, better-looking than his brother or sister. Mrs. Barnes’s daughter came up beside her. “Did you know my brother?”
“I know your mother,” Miri said. “Is she okay?”
“Not really. I doubt she’ll ever be okay again. Tim was her favorite.”
Miri never thought about parents having favorites. When you’re the only child you don’t think that way.
Corinne came to her rescue. “I heard you were a big help on Tuesday, Miri. You’ve got a real head on your shoulders.”
Miri knew that was supposed to be a compliment. As opposed to, You have no head on your shoulders. Or, Use your head for once.
“This has been very hard on Natalie,” Corinne said, speaking in a hushed tone. “She’s so sensitive, so imaginative. I suppose you know that.”
“Yes.” She didn’t have the guts to tell Corinne that Natalie was acting cuckoo. Anyway, who was she to say Ruby wasn’t living inside Natalie? Who was she to say that wasn’t the aliens’ plan all along? All of it was making her think the whole world was going crazy.
Jamison set a plate of sandwiches on the dining table, pretty little sandwiches on white bread with the crusts cut off, each decorated with a tiny pickle or slice of olive or sprig of parsley. Miri helped herself to a turkey sandwich. The potato salad had too much mayonnaise for her so she skipped that and took potato chips instead.
Corinne patted the sofa next to her, so Miri sat and bit into her turkey sandwich, taking small bites and chewing, chewing, chewing until there was almost nothing left to swallow, which she wasn’t sure she’d be able to do anyway. She needed ginger ale. Why hadn’t she poured herself a glass?
“I thought Natalie would be here,” she managed to say.
“The children are at home. They went to the funeral this afternoon. Mrs. Barnes has been such an important part of their lives. She came to work for us when Fern was born. And Dr. Osner is back at the morgue.”
Miri nodded.