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Helen had bought that snake-tangle of old lady lingerie at
a yard sale, hoping it would scare away any thief. Under-
neath it, she hid her remaining money, a little over seven
thousand dollars. She also buried a cell phone bought under
a fake name in Kansas City. Helen had sent her sister Kathy
a thousand dollars to pay the phone bills. She only used the
cell phone once a month to call her mother and her sister.
Each month, Helen hoped her mother would miraculously
become a strong, independent woman who believed in her
daughter. But in case that didn t happen, Helen also brought
out a piece of pink cellophane from a gift basket.
Helen always called her mother on the same day at the
same time: seven P.M. She dreaded this one call more than a
whole day in the boiler room.
This time, Helen got a recording, one she heard a dozen
times a day.  The number you are calling does not accept
unidentified calls. If you are a solicitor, please hang up now.
My own mother has blocked me out, Helen thought.
 Helen, is that you? her mother said. Dolores sounded
frailer than the last time.
Helen could see her: a withered woman wearing a luxuri-
ant brown wig. Helen wanted to rush home and fold her
small, faded mother in her arms. But she knew that was
DYING TO CALL YOU 171
hopeless, too. Dolores would turn Helen over to the court and
send her back to her cheating ex-husband.
 Helen, I have good news, her mother said.
If the news was good, why did she sound so tentative?
 I m seeing Mr. Lawrence Smithson.
Lawrence? Helen flashed on a bandy-legged old man in
baggy shorts and a flat yellow cap, mowing his lawn at six
A.M.
 You re dating Lawn Boy Larry? Helen said.  The guy
who trims his lawn with nail scissors? I can t believe you re
going out with that geezer.
 Don t call Lawrence that, Dolores said.
 That s what Dad called him, Helen said.  My father
was a real man. A real unfaithful man, but no one ever ques-
tioned his virility.  Lawn Boy just wants to get his hands on
your dandelions.
What s wrong with me? Helen thought. Why do I care
who my mother dates, if he makes her happy? It s none of
my business. My father s been dead for ten years.
 I have no one to talk to, her mother said.  Your sister
Kathy has Tom and the children. You re living God knows
where. You won t even tell your own mother.
 It s better that way. Rob would charm the information
out of Dolores. She still saw him.
 Lawrence has been so helpful, Dolores said.  He fixed
my toolshed. He mows my lawn every Wednesday. He cleans
my gutters.
 Does he grease your griddle and haul your ashes?
 Don t be disgusting.
 I m sorry, Mom. I m happy that you have a romance.
 It s not like that, her mother said.  I m too old for ro-
mance.
 You re only seventy, Mom.
 I won t live much longer, her mother said.  I want you
to come home.
All aboard for the guilt trip, Helen thought.  Mom, I can t
go back to Rob, not after what he did.
172 Elaine Viets
 You didn t try, her mother said.
 I did, Helen said.  But every time I looked at Rob, I saw
her.
It was worse than that. Every time Helen looked at Rob,
she saw him naked with their neighbor, Sandy.
Helen had come home early from work and found them
on the deck. At first, Helen couldn t make sense of the tangle
of Rob s hairy legs and Sandy s waxed ones. Then she un-
derstood all too clearly. That s when Helen picked up the
crowbar and
 You should have offered it up.
Helen had a vision of Rob and Sandy humping away,
while she knelt by the teak chaise longue and prayed.
 Offered what up? she said.
 Your suffering. The saints did it. I did it for forty years
with your father.
 Did you offer it up when Dad died at the Starlite Motel
with the head of the St. Philomena Altar Society?
There. She d said the words that had been buried for a
decade. She expected Dolores to burst into tears. But her
mother said with simple dignity,  Yes, I did. It was my duty
as his wife and your mother.
 Well, I m no saint, Helen said.  And I ve got the police
report to prove it.
Helen had brought the crowbar down on the chaise with a
loud crack! Rob jumped up and ran for his Land Cruiser,
locking the doors and abandoning his lover.
Sandy, naked as a newborn but not nearly as innocent,
scuttled toward her cell phone and called 911.
Helen started swinging. The Land Cruiser s windshield
cracked into glass diamonds. The side mirrors disintegrated.
She trashed the taillights and smashed the doors, while Rob
cowered on the floor and begged for his life.
 You tried to kill your own husband, her mother said.
 I wasn t going to kill the SOB. I wanted to wreck his
SUV. That was his true love. And I bought it for him.
She d told the cops the same thing when they pried the
DYING TO CALL YOU 173
crowbar from her hands and pulled a buck-naked Rob from
the wreckage. She could see the cops fighting back snickers.
Rob and Sandy didn t press attempted-assault charges.
Sandy was afraid her husband would find out what she d
been doing when Helen started swinging that crowbar. He
did anyway.
 I know you were upset, dear, Dolores said.  But now
you ve had time to cool off. Rob just made a mistake.
 Not a mistake, Mom. A bunch of mistakes. He hopped [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]