Tallulah

Mr. Franz—Albert, please, he would insist when we weren't in school—would take us home every day. Sometimes he and Momma would stay in the car for a couple minutes after I went in. My aunts all teased Momma—ooh la la, Savannah et Albert!—but seemed to like him anyway. Peter didn't like him—apparently it was okay for Momma to be lonely, but it wasn't okay for her to have a friend like he did. I didn't understand why he didn't want her to be happy. Winona didn't like Albert either because she was mad that Momma was finally moving on and getting her life back together instead of moping for Daddy the way she had been for the last few years.

I liked seeing Albert and Momma together. They smiled more and were generally more pleasant to be around after they started seeing each other. They went out almost every single night. Some nights they went dancing. Once a month, they went to the cinema. Other nights they got dinner. They always did something fun, whatever it was.

They didn't go out on Sundays, because that was when we went to church and had dinner as a family.

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Mr. Franz wasn't feeling very well and asked me to tell Momma that he wouldn't be able to go out that evening but he would like her to call him and let him know if he had to bring anything for Thanksgiving dinner before he left early for the day. Our class went to Ms. Johnson's downstairs since her class was in the gym and she let us watch a film.

I spent the rest of the day wondering what he meant by that.

Since my vacation started that afternoon, it wasn't like I'd get a chance to ask him what he meant the next day. Nevertheless, I told Momma, though I didn't understand why he was asking about Thanksgiving since it wasn't like was spending it with us. It was a family event, and even though I really liked Albert, I didn't think he was a part of our little family.

Even if he was Momma's special friend and she really liked him.

I spent Wednesday with Isabel, her sister Margret, Winona, and Isabel's friend Vienna. Since Isabel was getting married, she went to a seamstress and had a dress made special, just for her. She wanted to make sure it fit her "just right" so she went to get it fitted and see if they had to make any changes to it. I thought she looked pretty, with her veil and white shoes and pretty lilies. Then she had the shop keeper take our measurements for the bridesmaid dresses. I'd never been to a wedding, much less a bridesmaid, so I was pretty excited. We bought shoes and purses and so on to match the dresses, which would be ready by Christmas or New Years'. I felt kind of like a grown up, but Winona, being the sourpuss she had always been, put a damper on everyone's fun by being sullen and angry the whole day, so I ignored her.

She'd been in a really bad mood ever since Momma and Albert started seeing each other.

Isabel took Peter's car for the day since we were such a big group. She dropped off her friend and sister—they shared an apartment not too far from Isabel's own apartment—and then she took us home for dinner, which was generally uneventful. Well, at least it was until Momma told us that Albert was coming over for Thanksgiving and that we were all to be on our "very best behavior". She even went so far as to threaten to never speak to anyone who ruined it or made a scene—and I don't think anyone could have missed the glare she shot at Peter, who simply returned it before going back to his dinner sullenly.

My aunts all started talking over each other. Peter started asking Momma if she had lost her damn mind again. Winona burst into tears, slamming her fork on the table before storming out of the dining room. Even Grandpa, who was a pretty quiet man, started yelling at Momma for inviting some man that he didn't even know into his house without asking him. Grandma looked at me and asked me if I'd like more peas, then yelled at everyone to be quiet.

"I think it's a lovely idea, darling." She smiled tenderly. "I wouldn't mind meeting him. He sounds delightful."

"Thank you." Momma shot a look at Peter again and he sneered, narrowing his eyes at her.

"And since it's my house too," she continued, looking at Grandpa, "I expect all of you to at least try to be nice to him. He sounds decent." Momma went back to her salad, ignoring Peter. "Winona! Come finish your dinner!"

"No!"

"What the—get down here!" Grandma yelled. "Don't make me come up there!"

Winona slammed the door of her room, stomping down the stairs angrily. Her footsteps thudded against the hard wood floors as she walked towards the dining room. She practically threw herself into her seat, glaring holes into her plate.

And that was that. Albert would be spending an interesting Thanksgiving with our family—and there were no if, ands, or buts about it.

Winona spent a good part of Thanksgiving crying in her bedroom and making phone calls that she shooed me downstairs for. My aunts, Grandma, Isabel, and Momma spent a majority of the day in the kitchen—prepping the turkey, making salads, boiling vegetables and steaming them and doing a bunch of things that I watched with mild boredom as I peeled vegetables and read the comics from the newspaper. Peter, Ronnie, and Grandpa watched football in the living room and yelled at the TV when their team fumbled or when it scored. My cousins had been sent outside to clean up the house and to make it look presentable.

Meanwhile, the topic of discussion in the kitchen was—of course—Monsieur Franz and everything about him. Momma picked at the green beans in her bowl casually, shrugging her shoulders before passing them to Hilda.

"There's not really that much to tell. You're meeting him today. You can ask him all the questions you like then," she said elusively, successfully ending the speculation about her 'mysterious' boyfriend—which apparently, was the grown-up term for special friend since Albert was a boy and all—at least, until he showed up, but that wouldn't be for another hour or two.

Winona stormed downstairs a few minutes after that, and the friendly chatter in the kitchen ceased when she let a heavy suitcase fall to the ground. Momma glanced at her, frowning.

"Where in the world have you been? Someone needs to help Tallulah peel the potatoes," she said, paying no attention to the suitcase or Winona's disheveled appearance. Winona kept looking at Momma defiantly. Momma was cutting out cookies on a pan with a star shaped cutter, humming quietly. "Did you not hear what I said, baby? Help your sister out."

"No," she said sternly.

"What? It's just some potatoes. You can go back to doing whatever you were doing when you're done."

"I'm not going to peel potatoes for you."

"What? Why? They're just potatoes. They won't kill you." Winona sighed heavily and shook her head.

"I'm going to spend Thanksgiving with Daddy and Julianne." My mother slammed her cutter down and my aunts all turned to look at her like she had started speaking in tongues or something.

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Did I stutter?"

"Winona," Momma sighed, "don't—"

"Don't what? I don't want to meet your stupid little boyfriend and play all nice and happy family just because you want me to, okay? No. I don't want to."

"Did I ask you if you wanted to? This isn't about what you want today, Winona. I'm telling you to do something, so you're gonna do it. It won't kill you to be nice for an hour or two. After dinner's over you can go upstairs or out with the girls or something. I don't care. Just please stay. He's really looking forward to meeting all of you."

"I don't know why you invited him in the first goddamn place." Momma shot her a look, lips in a line.

"Don't cuss at me. I told you the next time you cussed at me I was gonna do somethin' crazy, didn't I?"

"Momma—"

"Don't." She closed her eyes. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that. You're staying for dinner. If you wanna go to Billie Joe and Julianne's little apartment tomorrow, I promise I will personally drive you over myself and drop you off first thing in the morning, okay?"

"I want to go now."

"What part of no did you not understand? Don't test me, child. Did you fix up Katie's cot?" Katie was coming home from college any minute and I was dying to see her. She would love Albert. Winona looked at Momma evenly.

"I don't want to. I'm not staying so I don't see why I have to do anything." She turned to go but Momma tutted at her.

"I wish you would walk out that door. I wish you would," Momma said, taking a deep breath. "You're not going to ruin this, okay? I've put a lot of hard work and effort into this dinner and you are not ruining it. Do you understand me?"

"I—"

The doorbell cut her off and Momma walked past her, stomping into the foyer. It was Katie and Simone, who had picked her up from the bus station. I missed Katie and I was happy to see her. If only Winona hadn't tried to spoil everything... Winona sat down angrily, grabbing the bowl of potatoes from me and telling me to go on and get upstairs if I knew what was good for me. So I did. I was fixing Katie's cot when she came in. She set down her brown suitcase and hugged me tightly, kissing my forehead.

"Tallulah! Ooh, I missed you!" She looked at me with a smile, pushing my hair behind my ears. "You're getting so big."

"I missed you too!"

After we calmed down a bit, she started to unpack her belongings, pushing some of her hair over her shoulder.

"So... how are things? How are you? How's school?"

"I'm good. Winona's sad. Simone's seeing a boy named Oliver, but that's our little secret. He a law student, like she is." I shushed her. "Momma's bringing a friend to dinner." She turned to look at me, confused.

"Our Momma?" I nodded and she laughed. "Who is it? Bet you any money it's Earl, the milkman. He's been makin' eyes at her since before you were born." She cackled, shaking her head. "He's so simple."

"No. It's Albert, my teacher." She seemed taken aback then, putting some of her shirts away in a drawer. Simone looked over at me, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, your teacher?"

"From school. He's nice."

"Is—he's not white, is he?"

"I guess." I shrugged. "What does it matter if he's white?" I frowned at her. Why were people so worried about who was white and who was black and who was lighter and who was darker? Weren't we all the same? I gnawed on my thumbnail, glancing at her with mild confusion. I just didn't get it. It was one of the few things I was afraid I wouldn't ever understand.

"It doesn't. I was just—just wondering, was all."

"He's really handsome. His eyes are really blue and he's from France. Didn't Momma tell you?"

"He's French?!" I nodded. "I wonder why she didn't say anything." She hummed pensively, biting her lip.

"I don't know. He seems nice and all, and you'll get to meet him when he comes for dinner." Katie sighed, rolling her neck around. She started hanging up some of her dresses, turning around. "Winona doesn't want to meet him."

"Why?"

"Because she's sad about Momma and Daddy." Katie turned to look at me, scratching her neck.

"Are you still upset?" she asked. "It's okay if you are." She seemed worried, and I didn't know why. I didn't know my father very well, and whatever I did know about him made him seem like a terrible person. I didn't have a reason to miss him. I didn't know why Winona missed him so much and why she couldn't be happy for Momma and Albert. She'd been so sad before and now she was happy and Winona just had to go and try to spoil it. Typical.

"No. Momma's happy now. Why would I be sad?"

"How do you feel about Albert?"

"He's nice to me, and Momma. He makes her laugh and he kisses her all the time and treats her real nice. He takes her out like every night and calls her a lot and stuff. I dunno. Seems like they're happy to me. I'm happy for them, and I don't miss Daddy very much anymore."

We talked for a few more minutes before she told me she wanted to take a nap and wash up for dinner, so I left. Simone was talking to someone on the phone in the hallway, twisting the cord around as she leant against the wall. She was crying, wiping her face as she bit her lip.

"No—no, I understand," she sniffled, wiping at her eyes delicately. "Yeah—no, of course I will. How could you say that?" She started breathing shallowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I—yeah. I'll be fine. I don't need—yeah. It's okay. You have to do your own thing and I have to do mine. It's fine. Hey—I have to run. Bye." She looked at me and wiped at her face with her sweater sleeve, smiling a little. "Aren't you supposed to be helpin' out downstairs, Tallulah?"

"Why are you crying?"

"I—I just—sometimes the people we love do things that makes us sad and angry. Sometimes the people we love don't love us. Sometimes boys are just really stupid. It's okay."

"Oh."

"I'll be okay. Why don't you go, um, set the table for Momma, huh? That's a good idea. I'll be right down to help you, okay? I'll clean myself up and meet you downstairs. Go on, now."

I walked downstairs. I peeked into the living room—my uncles and Grandpa were still as into the game as they were that morning. Winona was still sullen and Momma was stirring some soup while my aunts poked at the turkey or started on dessert. I started folding the napkins on the pretty china plates Grandma only broke out during special occasions—the last time we used these was when Peter and Isabel got engaged—and holidays. I arranged the spoons and forks and knives the way I'd learned in my etiquette class at school—coincidentally with Albert—and grinned when I had finished. The phone rang and Momma picked it up, meaning that it was probably Albert.

"He's going to be here in ten minutes!" she yelled, going up the stairs when Grandma asked her to come back and finish making the potato salad. "I have to finish getting ready!"

With a small smile, I started setting the glasses out and made sure that everything was the way it was supposed to be. Simone and Katie found me in the dining room and smiled at me. They wore similar dresses, except Katie's was orange where Simone's was tan.

"Let's go wash up before Monsieur gets here," Simone giggled—she had taken to calling Albert Monsieur along with the rest of my aunts and uncles. We went upstairs, but my cousins had all piled into the bathroom in a last ditch effort to make themselves presentable to Momma's boyfriend. Momma let us use her bathroom instead, since she was fixing her makeup at her vanity counter.

"How do I look?" she asked. I simply sat and stared at her, dumb struck. Her eyelashes looked thicker than before and her hair was curly and she was wearing a dress like Jackie O wore on TV with JFK, and her lips were so very red.

"Jesus, Momma. Are you trying to kill the man?" Katie asked, drying off her face with a towel.

"That good, huh?" She wriggled her eyebrows at us. Simone simply looked at Momma and laughed.

"You are one of a kind, Momma. Lord have mercy on that poor soul."

Momma simply cackled and put some perfume on, sighing.

"I can't wait for him to meet you. He'll love you girls." She sighed and put her hair to the side—it was one of the few occasions I remember where she had it down instead of pinned to her hair with half a tin of bobby pins and pomade. "Hopefully, anyway."

We followed her downstairs, and as she stepped off the bottom stair, the doorbell chimed softly. All at once—the TV shut off and my uncle and Grandpa made a pass for the door. Momma had already braced herself against it by the time my aunts ran in, chattering up a mile a minute. My cousins ran down the stairs past us, babbling excitedly. Simone, Katie, and me brought up the rear. Winona sulked next to Aunt Patricia, arms across her chest.

This should be fun.

"Would you all calm down? You're going to scare him away!" She looked at us sternly until we all moved back a few steps, then turned to open the door. Albert stood there awkwardly—he must have expected it to just be Momma and my sisters and not everyone else, but nonetheless, he seemed prepared, since he didn't come empty handed. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and a box in the other, like the kinds they used at the bakery.

"Hello," he said, laughing nervously.

"Hi," Momma said warmly, hugging him.

"I bought some wine and picked up a cake last night. I hope that's okay."

"Why don't you come in? I'll put that away for you," Momma said, and even though I couldn't see her, I could feel her smile, bright and radiant. Albert, unbeknownst to my aunts, had done his homework. He knew my aunts by name and description—probably something Momma told him to make it easier on him—and he already knew Peter. Ronnie had gone out for something earlier that morning, and had walked in in the middle of the fuss about Albert.

My sisters and I stood together on the staircase. Winona skulked over to us while my grandparents introduced themselves to Albert, permanent frown etched on her full lips. Simone pinched her arm, whispering, "Smile."

"And these must be your daughters, right?" Momma nodded at him, biting her lip. "Don't tell me. You're... Simone, right?"

"How do you do?" Simone asked politely, smiling at him. Albert looked at Katie for a minute.

"I'm quite well, thank you. It's so nice to finally meet all of you. And this must be Katherine, no?" She smiled and nodded, extending her hand shyly. "And you must be Winona. How are you?"

"Perfectly fine. Thank you," she said monotonously, looking at Momma. Albert's smile faltered a little but he still laughed when he saw me, swiping at my nose with his index finger.

"And I already know you, don't I?" I giggled and he did too. My aunts exchanged smiles and glances, and Hilda even wriggled her eyebrows at Momma. They liked him, sort of. So far, so good.

"Well, well, well, look at what we have here," Ronnie said, walking up to Momma and Albert. "You must be the Frenchman."

Albert laughed wryly.

"I prefer Albert, but yes, yes. You must be Ronnie, no?"

"Oui." Ronnie laughed like he'd just made the funniest joke ever. Momma shot him a look. Ronnie was the kind of guy who kept trying to be funny even when he wasn't and usually got on everyone else's nerves. "You like the Packers or the Cowboys?"

"I like the Packers." Ronnie threw an arm around him and cheered.

"We're gonna get along just fine then, aren't we? C'mon, the game's still on and we still have a chance to win."

And just like that, Ronnie had dispelled the semi-awkward tension and broken up the fuss. That was probably the only thing he was actually good at—getting rid of awkward silences, that is. My aunts basically dragged Momma to the kitchen so they could talk about Albert. Apparently, they all thought he was rather handsome, even if he was white—apparently more so. And he had a job. And a car. Patricia loudly asked her why she hadn't married him already since he was basically perfect and Momma leapt over to shush her, eyes wide.

"He can hear you, Patty." She huffed, shooting Patricia a look. "We're taking things slow, okay? We're getting to know each other."

"Mmhm," Hilda said knowingly, shaking her head as she piled everything into the pretty china bowls. "Is that what they're calling it now?"

"Calling what?" Hilda raised an eyebrow and Momma rolled her eyes. "I have settled down, obviously. I can't be fooling around anymore like I used to, you know? I'm different now. And Albert's a really pure soul, you know? He's so religious and he just—I—he wants to wait, anyway, so... I don't know."

"Wait 'til you're married? So you're gonna get married after all?" Joanna asked. Momma shot her a look.

"Can you all kindly shut your traps please?" she asked sweetly, pushing a bowl of corn bread into my hands. "Would you mind helping me set the table, baby?" Simone and Katie followed behind me with a bowl of potatoes and the gravy boat. We sat down and my aunts came in one by one, setting down their respective bowls or trays. Grandma came in with the turkey and sat down at the opposite end of the table, sighing softly. She looked at Winona with her don't make trouble if you know what's good for you look and Winona sunk into her seat, staring at her plate angrily.

I heard the TV shut off, which meant that Momma probably told them all to come on in if they wanted to eat. Grandpa sat at the other end, with the turkey. He usually carved it. Ronnie, Cassandra, Patricia, Emelia, and Peter sat on Momma's left, Albert sat to her right, and to his right sat Hilda and Yvonne. I sat with my sisters to my left and Joanna and Frida to my right.

Grandpa said grace. I think Albert was the only person who actually put his head down and prayed. Everyone else just snuck glances at him and glared at the person who they caught staring too. As everyone started to serve themselves, Grandpa started rubbing his knives together to start cutting out everyone's chunk of meat. I smiled at the turkey breast on my plate—he knew me so well—and propped my head up, waiting for the mashed potatoes to make their way down to me.

"White or dark meat?" Grandpa asked.

"I'd like dark, please," Albert replied simply, sipping some wine.

Peter, Hilda, and Simone almost choked on their food, laughing. Momma almost drained her glass of wine. Grandma looked at Grandpa with a small smile and he shook his head. I didn't understand the joke, but apparently they all did. Katie put a healthy sized dollop of potatoes on my plate before passing it over to Frida. I reached over for the candied yams and gave myself about three spoonfuls—I had a really bad sweet tooth and the only time I could really, really indulge without Momma getting upset were holidays—before passing it down. Hilda reached over and put a spoonful of peas on my plate, a no-nonsense look on her face.

"What's so funny?" I asked curiously.

"Nothing, sweetheart. Eat your peas," Momma said, trying not to laugh.

I pushed them around my plate, glancing at my family.

"So, you're a teacher?" Grandpa asked, sipping his water slowly.

(My grandfather was one of the only people who I knew who very rarely drank. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen him take so much as a sip of alcohol.)

"Yes. That's how I met your daughter, actually. I'm Tallulah's teacher."

"Where are you from again?" Peter asked, propping his head up.

"A small city named Honfleur. It's about an hour away from Paris." He glanced at Peter. "It's quite beautiful."

"Why'd you move here then?" Peter asked, almost a little snide. What was his problem? I shot him a look.

"Well, my parents came to Columbus when I went to college. The war was over and they felt it was time to leave France and start over. My sister was married by then, and she had her children and her husband to think of. I had my own life too. While I was in college, I met my wife—"

"Your wife?" Patricia interrupted, shooting him a look. Hilda swirled her wine in her glass, shaking her head. Peter held his knife tighter and Momma shot him a look.

"You're married?"

"You're with a married man, Savannah? Really?"

"You've got a lot of nerve—"

"I was married. I'm a widow." He was silent for a minute, sipping his wine as he looked up at everyone. "It was a very long time ago."

Everyone but Momma—probably because she knew—looked guilty as he explained how she had passed away a very long time ago, around two years or so after he got married. Apparently, she got really sick and didn't get any better, and then she just died. He looked so sad. His wife was his best friend of many years and he married her because he didn't see why not to. They were got married when they were young, maybe around Simone or Katie's age. He lived by himself in a big house in Paris, which they bought because they wanted to have a lot of children, but she died before they ever got around to it. He had a good job as an English professor at a high school, where he worked for a few years.

Albert hadn't planned on coming to America. He liked his house and his job and his friends. He came last spring to visit his parents. His mother kept writing about much she missed him and how much she wanted to see him, so he paid them a visit. He really liked it here, and he wanted to stay. So, he rented out his house and gave away whatever his wife's parents left when they came after the funeral. He moved here because he wanted a fresh start.

Peter looked glumly at his plate. Momma shot him a look.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Grandma said, sighing gently. "She's in a better place now, I'm sure."

"Thank you. I'm okay now, really. It was a long, long time ago and I've made my peace with it. And in any event, I think I've met someone who makes me feel much better." Momma smiled at him and he winked at her. "This is excellent, Mrs. Fischer." He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, laughing. "I might have to take some of this home. You're an excellent cook."

"I could wrap up some leftovers for you before you leave. If we have any, that is." Grandma smiled at him. Grandpa looked at him evenly, chewing his food slowly. I could already tell Grandma liked him—she liked everybody—but I wasn't too sure about Grandpa yet. He was so reserved and guarded that it was really hard to tell what he was thinking. As for the rest of my aunts, they loved him. Ronnie liked him too—but he was like Grandma—and Peter still didn't like him for some odd reason. I didn't understand it. Didn't he see how happy he made her?

"We have a bakery, you know," Joanna said softly, smiling. "Didn't Savannah tell you about it?"

"Yes. I suppose I'll have to drop by sometime, won't I?" He started eating his cranberry sauce. "Katherine—"

"Call me Katie, please."

"Katie, your mother tells me that you're going to school in New York, yes? What are you studying?"

"I want to be a lawyer." She smiled. "We'll see how it goes."

"Really? What kind?" He dabbed at his lips with a cloth napkin, looking at her attentively.

"I'm not sure yet. I'm interning at a firm in the city, but I still don't know what I'm going to for sure yet. I'm thinking criminal, maybe, but I still might go into civil. Not quite sure yet. It's nothing fancy like Simone," Katie said, nudging her with an eyebrow raised. Simone laughed, looking down at her plate.

"Oh?"

"I'm a chemistry major. It's not a big deal," Simone said bashfully, tucking some of her hair behind her ears.

"Wow. Your mother must be so proud of you girls," Albert said with a smile. "You're not done with school yet, are you Winona?" She looked at him blankly. Momma narrowed her eyes at her. Albert ignored it and kept talking. "Do you know what you want to do yet?" he asked, eating some potatoes.

"Oh, I have a few ideas," she said flatly. Simone shot her a look and I stepped harshly on her foot, frowning at her. Albert seemed to be oblivious to Winona's disapproval, or he ignored it.

"Like what?"

"Momma?" Winona asked, hands shaking—she only shook when she was upset—as she gripped her knife and fork. "Can you please pass the peas?"

"Albert asked you a question," Momma said in her not-quite-angry but still-super-sassy tone that left no room for argument. Winona sighed, seting down her knife and fork angrily.

"You wanna know what I think? Really? I think you oughta stay the hell away from my mother."

"Winona!" Momma exclaimed, eyes almost bulging out of her head.

"Watch your mouth," Peter warned, shooting Winona an angry glare.

"Apologize!" Momma yelled, furious.

"You told me to answer his question. I answered his damn question. What more do you want from me?"

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Albert said softly, setting down his fork. "I can only imagine how upsetting this must be for you."

"Yeah? Good for you." Winona pushed her chair out and threw her napkin on her plate, storming out of the dining room.

"I—" Momma looks at Albert, pushing her chair out as she puts her napkin down. "I'm sorry, I should probably go get her—"

"No, no, you stay and finish your dinner," Grandma says, with a stern, resigned face. "I'll go and see what's going on."

An awkward silence blossomed over the dinner table that Ronnie cleared away as he coughed into his fist a minute or two after Grandma ran upstairs to get Winona to finish eating.

"Halftime should be over by now," he mentioned, looking at Grandpa, Peter, and Albert. "We can probably catch the end of the game, can't we? The girls will get dessert." Albert glanced at Momma and she nodded at him, smiling at a little.

We cleared the table quietly. Momma kept sniffling and fanning her face. It made me upset because all Momma wanted was to have a nice dinner and Winona had to ruin it, just like she ruined everything else. Momma went upstairs while my aunts cut cakes and started making coffee. They started to whisper about Winona and Albert. Momma came downstairs a couple of minutes later, fresh faced and with one of her fake smiles—I could tell by now when she was happy and when she was just pretending—and took some plates from the counter and walked into the living room, pointedly ignoring my aunts.

We all ate dessert there, crowded around the TV. While we watched the game, Grandma came downstairs and made a plate for Albert, as promised. Albert left about a half hour or so after the game was over, thanked Grandma for the plate, and walked out with Momma to his car.

And, like my aunts usually did, they peeked through the curtain and watched them say their goodbyes. When Momma came back in, she was fixing her lipstick and laughing quietly, shaking her head. She leaned against the door and smiled.

Winona came back downstairs with her suitcase, looking at Momma evenly.

"I'm leaving now."

"What?" Momma looked at her, tilting her head to the side.

"I'm going to Daddy's."

Momma sighed and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I don't wanna live here anymore, okay? All you do is hang out with that creepy French guy and you're acting like everything's okay even though we both know it's not and you—how could you forget what you had with Daddy like that?"

Momma shook her head at Winona. I hoped she wouldn't start crying again.

"Your father took the best years of my life, and then he had the nerve to go out and find some two-cent hooker and destroy everything we worked so hard for. I had a worhtless excuse for a man who didn't love me or care about me or you girls at all. I think about it every single day, so please don't tell me I forgot. You can't forget something like that, Winona. I'm just trying to be happy. I deserve to have someone who cares about me, don't I?"

"But—"

"But nothing! Your father met Julianne, he married her, they're happy together now, and that's okay? But I met someone and that's not okay? Am I supposed to be miserable for the rest of my life? I'm 34 years old. What am I supposed to do, just lay down and die because your father moved on to someone younger? I'm young too. I can be happy. I thought you'd be happy for me. You're happy for your father, aren't you?"

"It's not the same, Momma. Daddy doesn't have us—"

"He chose that. He chose to ruin everything we had worked so hard for. I didn't force him to do any of that. What did you expect me to do? Just sit there and be the world's biggest fool, staying home with you girls while he went out and had a good time every night?"

"No, but—"

"But what?" Momma raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "I'm so happy now. Albert's such a nice guy, and you know, maybe if I had met him before I met your father, things would be different, but they're not and it didn't happen that way. I don't regret what happened between father and I because you girls are the light of my life and I feel so blessed to be your mother and to be the person who brought you into this world. I deserve to be happy after spending so much time being so sad. I'm sorry you don't like Albert. He makes me happy. I mean, really happy. He actually cares about me. Do you know how hard it is to find someone my age who's single and doesn't mind me have four children? Do you? It's crazy. I never thought something like that would happen." She bit her lip with a sigh, almost sad. "I wish you'd given him a chance. He's so sweet and down to earth, and I think you two would have gotten along pretty well. But you deserve to be happy too. If you're so unhappy here, and you think you'll be happier living with your father and his wife, you are more than welcome to go and stay with them. I won't stop you."