Although she knew the nurse was there, Thelma still jumped. “Oh…” She hurried to finish folding the sweater before closing the dresser drawer. “It’s been a long day.”
Linda’s courteous smile was anything but friendly, but Thelma was used to that by now. Gone were the days when she would wonder how to best ingratiate herself with another woman in her community.Those were the old rules.What was the point now? Even Megan confirmed that women were less concerned with appearances than in the ‘50s. It was no longer about who looked the best, who acted the best, or who was the best mother: although, if asked a few months ago, Thelma would have never seen her “old” life like that.It’s just how it was.She instinctively knew the rules and followed them. Wasn’t that why she marriedBill? Had children in her early twenties? Became a well-known lady on Hemlock Street by thirty?
In a way, she had done that for her children.Poor Debbie.The little girl who missed the mother she only vaguely remembered so much that she kept many of Thelma’s things, organized the family photos, and would have predictably named her own daughter after her mother. If anyone earned the right to meet her mother again, it was Debbie.
But it was the fact she was in this state that made her so easy to accept Thelma as she was—impossibly young, fresh-faced, and eager to please.
For you, yes.
Linda announced someone was coming in to wipe down the bathroom, and Thelma could either stay or leave, but she wouldn’t be able to leave until the cleaning was done once it started. She announced she was departing imminently and donned her jacket, but before she followed Linda out the door, she softly said goodbye to Debbie by sitting on the edge of her bed and lightly singing “You Are My Sunshine,” their favorite bedtime song when Debbie was little.
This time, Linda escorted her toward the entrance, past the heavy security doors and the receptionist’s desk. When she saw the Impala parked beneath the tree branches, she opened the front door for Thelma. Soon, they stood alone on the front sidewalk leading to the parking lot.
“I’ve seen pictures of her, you know.” The nurse removed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She stood a few feet downwind of Thelma as she lit up. “Found out she went missing in the ’50s and looked into it. It’s uncanny.” Smoke blew from her lips. “You’re identical to her.”
Thelma didn’t ask who Linda was talking about. What was the point?
“Strong genes,” she said instead.
“The getup really is something. You know, nobody told us Debbie had a daughter until you showed up with her brother one day. Not unusual around here, but…”
Thelma let those words dissipate alongside the cigarette smoke.
“It’s impossible, right?” Linda leaned in, peering at Thelma’s face. “People don’t magically come back from the dead. I’ve seen enough death around here to know.”
Shoulders back and chest puffed out, Thelma said, “That would imply I’ve died. Which, I have not, as you can plainly see.”
“You’re even the age her mother was when she disappeared. You’re wearing the same outfit and driving the same car. You tell me, what’s going on?”
Thelma should have left well enough alone. She had all the plausible deniability in the world.Time travel isn’t possible. Ghosts aren’t real.
“A miracle,” Thelma said. “Debbie prayed for many years. Let her have this.”
She kept her purse close to her body as she headed toward the Impala. The only reason her blood flowed so loudly through her body was because her heart was anxious enough to charge her adrenaline and get her ready to fly down the boulevard at the first sign of Linda catching on.To what? This is impossible.Thelma hesitated outside her door, looking back at the nursing home entrance and seeing Linda still standing there, smoking.
What kind of ghosts had this woman seen, anyway?
Thelma kept it together on the drive home to Van Nuys. Since taking control of the Impala, she could no longer simply park it in the garage if someone else was home. Today, Robbie’s car was in the garage. Megan wasn’t home yet, so Thelma maneuvered the car into the least imposing spot in the driveway. She made sure Gretchen wasn’t in the yard next door before shutting off the engine.
Only then did she allow herself to crumple against the steering wheel, hands folded, hair shielding her from the world.
My daughter’s dying…It was an uncomfortable fact she had to face every time she visited Debbie. But she did it. Not just because it was the right thing to do, but because she needed to know that her child would die having been held by her mother at least one more time. Like she told Linda, it was the least her daughter deserved.
And my son is…Thelma sat up, grabbing her purse, and getting out of the car.
Robbie was at the kitchen table, going over bills.He looks just like his father when he sits like that.He and Bill had the same cock of the left shoulder as their right hands moved pen over paper. She had always wanted to ask how their relationship ended. Were Robbie and Bill on good terms? Did Robbie and Debbie work together to take care of Bill’s estate? Had they grieved all there was to grieve, now that they found themselves orphans?
Well, they were orphans no longer. Except that Thelma, despite her youth, was in the weaker position. She had no authority here. She was as good as a stranger—an interloper.
A ghost from the past.
She approached her son, removing her jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair.
“Anything I can help with? How about dinner? It’s about time to start something. What time do you think Megan will be home?”
Robbie glanced at her through seemingly frameless reading glasses. “No need for any of that. I’m going out tonight.”
“Oh. And Megan?”
