Saturday, March 5, 2011

I sink onto the old brown sofa. Mom is feeling better, so we went driving around and did a little shopping. She must realize that I don't have a valid license anymore (not even in Norway), but in our spring fever we're complicit.

I've got some soup heating on the stove, Mom's dozing in her favorite chair, and we have a while before Becky whirls in with the boys. When I ask about her husband, she doesn't say much. I'm hoping this is a good thing. As if I'd know.

Mom stirs.

"You know, you really don't have to stay."

Part of me sinks deeper.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

She holds a sigh in and then lets it out.

"I just don't think you're going to stay happy here. Don't you want to be with your friends?"

More than anything, but that's only half of it.

"I want to be with you."

She has another check next week. If it goes well…

I can smell the soup coming to a boil. I start to get up.

"I forgot to tell you--you had a call this morning. From a Sevario?"

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