Her Toyota seemed colder, the night darker. She gave her head a quick shake to dispell the bad memory, feeling the weight of her hair as it moved. She turned on the heat. The whirr of the fan and the cold air turning to warm on her feet and legs helped to push the image of the burned man aside.
At home, she took a shower, put on her soft old jeans, a sweater, and her favorite silver-and-coral earrings. She thought about the warm pizza and a sweet, bubbly Coke to go with it and about the pleasure of being with Mama and Darleen. She thought of how lucky she was to have them close enough that they could share dinner.
The pizza sat boxed and ready when she got to the restaurant. She placed it in the front seat next to her and wrapped it in a blanket. As she drove the dirt roads she knew so well to Mama’s house, the aroma of yeasty crust, cheese, and tomato sauce deliciously filled the car.
Darleen had set the table with plates, forks, and little packages of cheese and red pepper left over from previous pizzas. Mama pushed her walker from the living room and sat in her usual place. Bernie opened the box, and the smell of warm crust, melted cheese, and pepperoni made her mouth water.
“Hold on,” Darleen said. “I’ll get the salad.” She put a bowl of lettuce, chopped cucumbers, bell peppers, and what looked like little beige balls on the table, went back to the fridge, and brought out two bottles of salad dressing. “It won’t hurt us to eat some vegetables. I asked for mushrooms, but I know you always get pepperoni pizza.”
Mama said, “I like it.”
“Me, too.” Bernie put her napkin in her lap. “The sauce has tomato—that’s a vegetable. Add the pepper flakes and we’re practically vegetarians. Except for the meat.”
Darleen said, “In my class, we had these people come in and they talked about eating the old ways like our ancestors, and how people are getting sick—diabetes, heart disease, other bad stuff—because of so much fake food.”
Her sister had given her a glass of water, not the bubbly sweet Coke she’d dreamed of. Bernie served some salad to Mama, then put a slice of pizza on her plate. She gave herself a slice with plenty of pepperoni and added some packaged cheese and red pepper flakes. She offered Mama a packet of cheese and passed the salad to Darleen.
Mama said, “We saw that car that blew up on TV. The one at the high school. Do you know about that?”
“Yes.”
Darleen filled her plate with salad. “That whole deal weirded me out. Why would someone do that? This isn’t New York freakin’ City.”
“Motive is a big question right now. A bunch of federal agencies are working to figure it out.”
“It’s crazy.” Darleen put her fork down. “I was almost there. Stoop Man and I were going to go to the game, but then his car wouldn’t start.”
“I’m glad you weren’t there. I’ve never seen so much confusion. The parking lot was a mess. Some people spent hours there and had to have their cars towed. It was lucky that only one person was hurt.” She meant killed, but hurt was good enough.
Mama said, “Were you there?”
“I wanted to watch the game—you know some of those old guys went to school with me.” Bernie took another bite of the pizza, thinking of how to avoid this conversation. “The FBI handles major crimes like that and they offer all kinds of special training for those officers. They know what to do if something blows up.”
“I’d think one of those FBI schools is near Washington, right?” Darleen laughed. “I’d like to go to Washington, see the White House and stuff like that. I’d like to go anywhere. Road trip!”
Bernie enjoyed the chewy, salty pepperoni. Chee always wanted different toppings, things like eggplant, pineapple, and Canadian bacon. Not her. She liked predictability. Why mess with perfection by adding mushrooms?
Darleen passed her the salad again. “Here, have some. It’s good for you.”
Bernie put the bowl on the table. The little balls the color of coffee with milk did not belong in a salad. “What are those roundish things?”
Darleen stabbed two with her fork and held them up for inspection. “They’re garbanzos, a kind of bean that’s really nutritious.”
“How do they taste?”
“Great. They’re kind of nutty, sweet, and starchy. Right, Mama?”
Bernie noticed that their mother had separated the garbanzos from the greens and was eating them, one by one.
“I like them.” Mama put two in her mouth. “Try it.”
“I want to enjoy the pizza while it’s hot.”
But Mama passed the bowl to her anyway with a look that said, Take some. So Bernie spooned some greens and chopped tomato and cucumber onto her plate. Even though she tried to avoid the garbanzos, she accidentally scooped up a few. She poured on the Thousand Island.
“What’s the Cheeseburger doing tonight?” Darleen asked. She used the nickname she and Mama had invented for Jim Chee.
“He’s in Tuba City at that big meeting on the Grand Canyon development.”
“I heard about that. Why did he have to go?”
“A bunch of VIPs will be there, and after the car blew up, Chee got asked to help as a sort of bodyguard for the mediator. At least he doesn’t have to drive back and forth. The department pays for a room at a motel there.”
“How long will he be gone?”
“I don’t know. Neither does he.”
“As long as it takes,” Mama said. “He can bring the loom over later. We’ve been using the one at the senior center and that works. Over there, we get coffee and cookies, too. I’m glad you sent that lady to me. She’s real nice.”
Bernie pictured Mama and Mrs. Bigman sitting at the table, drinking coffee from white Styrofoam cups. Laughing together. The image made her heart ache.
After dinner, Bernie cleared the table, secretly disposing of the garbanzos she’d hidden under a lettuce leaf and hoping Darleen’s experiment was a one-time adventure. She washed the plates and silverware and then joined Mama and Darleen in the living room. She noticed some books on the coffee table. Darleen and Mama must have been to the library, she thought. Then she realized they were textbooks, probably part of Darleen’s work for her GED, her long-delayed high school diploma.
After they had watched TV for a while, Mama patted her hand.
“Come with me to the bedroom.” She used Bernie’s arm to rise from the couch. Her grip was strong. She eased herself to her walker, straightened up, and then moved smoothly down the hall. Her balance seemed better, too. She and Darleen had learned that there was no point in asking Mama how she felt; she always said she was fine. Mama never complained about her health, saving that energy to give advice to her daughters.
Mama sat on the bed.
“Can I help you, Mama? What can I do?”
“You can tell me what is bothering you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I worked all day. I’m tired.”
“What else?”
“Nothing.”
“No, something. Something troubles you.”