“Well then how much money do you need in order to hire someone?”
“I don’t know. I’ll talk to Bill. I’m sure we can find someone in town to come around a few times a week.”
“Daddy. This is why I worry about you guys. What if something happens and you have really big medical bills?”
He shrugs. “We’ll sell the farm.”
“But the farm is your life.”
“You and your mom are my life. And my art. But I can do that anywhere. You need to find something else to worry your pretty head about, kid. We’ll get by. We always have. You gotta trust that.”
I look out the window and see Matt on an A-frame ladder, changing an outdoor lightbulb. My mom is nearby, playing with Daisy.
“Seriously. Isn’t your Artist in Residence supposed to be helping you with things like lightbulbs? At the very least? I mean where is this guy?”
“Elijah? He’s probably in the barn, working on his project. He’s a very talented sculptor. You should see his stuff. He’s just a bit of a flake.”
“Great. That’s exactly what you need around here.”
“Hey. I’m serious. We’re fine. If you want a reason to keep your high-paying secretary job, we aren’t it. Why don’t we talk about what you’re really worried about?”
I push myself up off the pouf. “Fantastic idea. I’ll go see if Mom needs help with dinner.”
When I was little, I was happiest when I was in the kitchen with my mom, helping her make dinner. Surrounded by the scent of herbs and spices and fresh baked bread, the only thing I had to worry about was whether or not the food would taste as good as it smelled. Now, as I stand here slicing freshly-harvested organic potatoes, I am seriously considering hacking off my own hand just to get out of this conversation.
“I just don’t understand why you’re so reluctant to give yourself to him completely,” she says, as we look out the window, watching Matt run around with Daisy in the golden hour light that’s refracted through the trees. “You’re a couple. I see it—it’s so obvious. You’re a couple. You’re a little family with him and that dog.”
“We just started dating a couple of weeks ago!”
“Pssh! Your father and I got married after knowing each other for two weeks. When you knowyou know. And I can see that you know, you just don’t want anyone else—including Matt—to know. What I don’t understand is—why? If we dig deep, we can get to the bottom of this before we sit down for dinner.”
I put down the knife. “There’s nothing to dig, Mom. I mean, we have nothing in common. He’s a lawyer. I’m an artist. He’s stoic and I feel like a spaz around him. He’s settled into his career and I’m…let’s not talk about that. Anyway, we never even would have met if he weren’t staying next door to me. We’re very different.”
“Different!” My mother coughs out the word while laughing. “You’re different from everyone on earth, Bernie! If that’s your excuse then you’ll be alone forever.”
“Well, maybe I should be.”
“Shhh!” She immediately drops what she was doing to grab a dried sage wand (they’re literally all over the house), lights it, and waves it around in front of me to clear the air. “Never say things like that—don’t even think them!”
I stand still, waiting for her to calm down. She places the sage back in its bowl and gets back to making dinner. “I know you didn’t mean that.”
“No. I didn’t.”Please, let that be the end of it.
She smiles, all dreamy-eyed and says: “Wasn’t it Marc Chagall that said: ‘All colors are the friends of their neighbors and the lovers of their opposites.’”
Fuck, I love that quote.
“Yes. Wasn’t it me who said: ‘Can we please talk about something else?’ Why can’t we just make awkward small talk or gossip about the people I grew up with like normal mothers and daughters?”
“Because it’s a waste of time and every minute we have together is precious.”
“Geez, Mom. Are you a hippie or a Hallmark card?”
“Are you an artist or a cynic? Honestly, Bernadette. Lately, I have to wonder.”
This chills me to my bones. In Manhattan I’m considered a quirky nerd. In Vermont I’m a cynic. “I don’t want to be a cynic,” I whisper, grabbing at my mother’s arm like I need her to help me up.
She immediately drops the asparagus she was rinsing in the sink and hugs me.
