Synopsis: She Met Beauty on Her Way Out

When she pulled into the driveway that evening, Lucia took pains to twist the steering wheel carefully and ease up on the gas. In the dark the tilt of the drive tricked the eyes with a laughing steepness, but the required reason for care was that the end of summer wind stirred last autumn’s leaves from their resting place by the garage, and the damp and slippery tree petals could cause a car to slide into the back fence. Her mother had come very close to doing so the previous week.
When she parked outside the garage and let the old Pontiac engine trundle to a sudden stop, she took the keys out of the ignition, and then sat there, still, listening to the September breeze rustle the trees and rattle the loose shingle on the garage roof. Obstinate grasshoppers creaked from dark places in the dying flower beds, places that could never be found by the human eye, and still they sang, mysterious and innocent all at once. Pale shadow clouds crowded the growing moon and stifled the pearlesque rays. Five minutes passed by this way, until she heard voices being raised, and a shadow gestured stiffly from the mud-room door. She flung one hand to her right, where it fell on her bag on the passenger side, and let it rest there before gathering her fist around the canvas material. Keys and bag in hand, she slammed the door with intentional hardness of sound and set out very purposefully and firmly for the mud-room.
When she yanked the door open her aunt very nearly fell out, since she had been leaning on it, one shoulder against it, and a hand on the knob. The raised voices ceased. Her mother smiled, tired and unhappy, worn and patient.
“Hi, Lu.”
“Well hi.”
Her aunt had recovered and stepped aside so that her niece could enter. “Well come in. You work a lot, don’t you. Hell it’s nearly nine o’clock, people have had their dinner long since.”
Lucia just looked at her, hoisting her bang on her shoulder and shaking the keys softly in her hand. “I thought Grant didn’t like to be left alone.”
Her aunt snapped around to face her. “Well, so he doesn’t.”
“Alright,” said Lucia calmly.
“Michelle,” said her aunt to her mother, “We can resolve this right now. Could take five minutes.”
“It’s nearly nine o’clock,” said Lucia. “Call it a night, Aunt Meg. Tell Grant I said hello.”
Her aunt’s tongue froze, and she iced the two of them with a glance. “Good night,” she said, shoving out the door, in the same tone that one might use to say “Get out,”. The crickets sang again until the mud-room door fell shut like a stage curtain, when they faded away peremptorily.
Lucia tossed her bag onto the dryer, amidst a stack of clean towels, and flung the keys there as well, rather than hanging them in their place.
Her mother asked how she was, still loosening muscles in her face after the exit of her irate sister. Her question started out hard and ended kindly.
“I’m fine. Work was long.” Lucia followed her into the kitchen. “Where are Tessa and Andrea?”
“They’re supposed to be getting ready for bed,” said Michelle. “That was ten minutes ago.”
The first few raindrops spattered against the kitchen window with a smacking noise, and she could hear the bathroom water running. With a glance, Lucia surveyed the kitchen, her eyes roaming from the mail spilling off the microwave, to the dirty bowls haphazardly stacked on the counter, to the dinner dishes still on the table. A packing box, with peanuts sprinkled about, blocked the way into the living room.
“The house looks…worse than usual.”
“Easy on me, hon.” Her mother got down on her knees and began to struggle with the clinging peanuts and the battle for the carpet. “The business phone has been ringing off the hook and then your aunt came again for THE conversation.” Her voice was muffled as she stretched under the coffee table in pursuit of a stray packing peanut.
“About the house again,” suggested Lucia, with full intention for it to sound more like a statement and less like a question. The offering was accepted.
“Bingo,” said her mom, rocking back on her heels, and lifting a quiet smile to her expressionless daughter. How she could smile with the burdens she was carrying, Lucia did not know, nor understand.