Linda, on the other hand, turned her pink--lipsticked face toward Nessa, a big fake smile on, her eyebrows high on her forehead, breaking the harmonious spell of the earlier confab in the yard. “Have you started talking yet, sweetheart? Has Mama taught you how to talk?”
This was her way of interrogating Nessa—-by asking Daltrey things he could not possibly answer. But now, Nessa was actually grateful for Linda’s habit. Nessa’s irritation helped things to seem normal, if only for a moment.
Nessa ground her teeth under her forced smile. “He’s all packed and ready to go.”
“Did you have a bath last night?” Linda said to Daltrey, her manicured hand on his head. “Did you have a bath?”
“Yes, Linda, he had a bath. And yes, before you ask him, I washed all his clothes before putting them in his suitcase.”
“Did she?” Linda said to Daltrey. “Did Mama wash your clothes? I’ll bet she didn’t iron them!” She poked him in the tummy like the Pillsbury Doughboy, and like that corporate mascot, he giggled.
The sooner they got out of here, the better. It would be many years before Daltrey felt the tension between them. Hopefully Linda would be dead long before then.
“Can I offer you some coffee?” Nessa asked, praying they’d say no.
“No,” Linda said, “Grandma and Grandpa and big--boy Daltrey need to get on the road! It’s two hours to Kansas City the way Grandpa drives! We’ve got to go. Do you need to tinkle, Daltrey?”
He shook his head.
“You’d better try,” she said. “We don’t want to have to stop, do we, Dolly?”
Nessa clenched her teeth again and said, quietly, “Please don’t call him that.”
“For God’s sake, Linda,” Tony said, his irritation drying his tears.
“Don’t call you what?” Linda said to Daltrey. “I was just calling you by a cute little old nickname!”
“Linda,” Tony said. “His name is Daltrey. Not Dolly.”
“Of course it is! All right, go on. Go tinkle.”
Tony squeezed him again before putting him down. Daltrey ran to the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
Linda pulled a lined piece of paper from her purse and handed it to Nessa. “Here’s where we’ll be staying and the phone number.” She pointed to a neatly printed address. “And this is our itinerary. We’re going to the Royals game on Monday against the Cardinals, and then we’ll go to the amusement park on Tuesday. The toy and miniature museum on Wednesday and we’ll have dinner on the Plaza. Then we’ll take him back to Russell with us. What a treat!”
Tony put his arm around Nessa. “You want us to keep him until the end of the month? Can you spare him that long?”
Ten days. Nessa wasn’t sure. “Why don’t we play it by ear? Let’s say until the thirtieth, but I may just have to come down and get him before then.”
He nodded and kissed the top of her head. “I understand, sweetheart.”
Daltrey reappeared, and Linda bent at the waist to address him. “Did you wash your hands? You need to wash your hands after you go potty. Otherwise, you’ll be sharing germs with everyone. And you don’t want to share your germs, do you?”
Daltrey held up his hands for inspection, and she kissed them. Daltrey signed, “Wash,” but Linda turned away from him. Her in--laws were not interested in learning ASL to communicate with their grandson.
“That’s just encouraging you not to talk,” Linda had once said to Daltrey, who was two at the time. “They just don’t want you to talk . . . at . . . all!”
Daltrey held his arms up to Nessa, and she scooped him up and buried her face in his velvety neck, kissing him and making him squeal. “I love you, Daltrey.”
He put both hands on either cheek and pressed his forehead to hers, his long--lashed eyes boring into her. Then he held up his little hand in the shorthand ILY sign. She mirrored it with her right hand. Then she kissed and hugged him and set him on the floor.
“You be good, little man,” she said, and he looked over his shoulder with a “Duh” expression that made her laugh.
“Have fun, you all,” she said to her in--laws, and hugged them both. “Thank you so much for doing this. It’s been a tough -couple of weeks.”
Linda surprised her by laying her hand on Nessa’s cheek and giving her the most sincerely sympathetic look she’d ever given Nessa.
“I know it has, honey,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
Then she hugged Nessa tight, and Nessa began to cry again.
After they left, Nessa went into the kitchen to get coffee, and Isabeau wandered in, still wearing shortie pajamas, her hair disheveled.
“Why didn’t you come down to meet the grandparents?” Nessa said, smiling.
“I heard them,” Isabeau said, pulling juice out of the refrigerator. “That awful voice the old lady uses when she’s talking to Daltrey just made me want to spew!”
“Yeah, me too. But they’re not that bad,” Nessa said. “They’re just weird and neurotic. But so am I. Neurotic, I mean.”
“Well, you’re a better woman than I,” Isabeau said.