Ульяна Солнечная – Its Never Too Late - As Long As Youre Alive (страница 6)
But it seemed to Kate that the Eiffel Tower on it gave her a knowing wink.
“Mom, Are You Serious?”
Her daughter came on Saturday.
With a bag of groceries, a quick kiss on the cheek, and the usual:
“So how are you, Mom? Has your blood pressure been acting up?”
Kate put the kettle on.
The French textbook was lying open on the table, turned to the first page. Cheryl noticed it immediately.
“What’s this?” She picked up the book and turned it over in her hands. “French? Mom, did you sign up for some kind of class?”
“Yes,” Kate said, surprising herself with how calm she sounded. “At the college. A group for seniors.”
Cheryl raised her eyebrows.
It was so much like Tom when he was younger — that same doubtful expression.
“For seniors? Mom, what on earth do you need that for?”
The question hung in the air.
And all at once, Kate heard in it exactly what she had always feared:
condescension.
As if Kate Morgan from Oklahoma had suddenly decided to play at being cultured.
“So that I can,” she answered evenly. “Because I’ve always wanted to.”
“But you never…” Cheryl hesitated. “I mean, you worked at the supermarket, Mom. Since when are you into languages?”
Kate set the mugs down on the table very slowly.
“I worked at the supermarket because I had to feed you, sweetheart. Because your father worked on an oil rig and could have been killed any day. Because we didn’t have a choice. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t dream.”
Cheryl fell silent.
She sat down at the table and picked up her mug, but didn’t drink.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said quietly. “It’s just… unexpected. You’ve always been so… so predictable. Home, garden, grandkids. And now suddenly — French.”
“Predictable,” Kate repeated. “Yes. I was convenient. For everyone. For you, when you were little and sick. For your father, when he came home exhausted. For the grandchildren, whenever you needed someone to watch them. But now I’d like to be convenient for myself.”
Cheryl looked at her for a long time, studying her.
“You’ve changed, Mom.”
Kate nodded.
“I’ve just stopped postponing.”
“Postponing what?”
“Life.”
Silence settled between them.
Outside, birds were shrieking in the yard, and somewhere down the street someone was starting a car.
An ordinary Saturday in a small Oklahoma town.
“And what are you going to do next?” Cheryl asked carefully. “Learn the language and… go?”
“Maybe,” Kate said, glancing at the map of Paris pinned to the refrigerator. “Maybe I will.”
Cheryl followed her gaze.
“Is that the old map? The one that’s always been stuffed in the drawer?”
“The very same.”
Her daughter smiled suddenly.
A little uncertainly, but warmly.
“Dad used to say you wanted to go to Paris for your honeymoon, but you two couldn’t afford it.”
Kate blinked.
Tom had said that?
Tom, who never talked about feelings, who used to call Paris “a tourist trap”?
“He told you that?”
“Yeah.” Cheryl shrugged softly. “He said you deserved Paris more than anyone in the world. And that he always felt bad he never got to take you there.”
Kate’s eyes began to sting.
She turned toward the window so her daughter wouldn’t see.
“Your father was a good man,” she said quietly. “We just… both did what we thought we were supposed to do.”
Cheryl stood up, came over, and wrapped her arms around her from behind.
Tightly, the way she used to when she was little.
“You should go, Mom. If you want to, then go. I’ll help with the grandkids. And the house. We’ll manage.”
Kate placed her hand over her daughter’s.
“Thank you, baby.”
“Just promise me you’ll call every day.”
“Every day,” Kate promised. “I’ll tell you how many croissants I eat.”
Cheryl laughed, though there were tears in it.
Later, after her daughter left, Kate sat in the kitchen for a long time.
Looking at the map of Paris.
At the textbook.
At the mug with the chipped handle.
Tom knew.
All those years, he had known she dreamed of Paris.
And he had never said a word of reproach, not a word of regret.
He had simply worked, fixed the car, sat in front of the television in the evenings, and loved her in that quiet way that asks for no language at all.