Anne Tyler - The Clock Winder

“You never asked me about this. I never heard a word.”

“My weekends are my own,” Elizabeth said.

“Oh, listen to you. You’re as set in your ways as an old maid,” said Mrs. Emerson. She ground out her cigarette and then braced herself as they zoomed away from a traffic light. “I should have known better than to rely on you. You or anyone . I should have let Billy buy me a lingerie shop on Roland Avenue, sat there all day the way my friends are doing, drinking gin and writing up the losses for income tax. Much too busy to see my children. Then they’d come home every week; just watch. They only take flight if you show any signs of caring.”

Elizabeth coasted past little Japanese trees that flowered pink and white on the grassy divide. She kept time in her head to faint music from the radio.

“This is all taking place because I mentioned something about appreciating you,” said Mrs. Emerson. “I am cursed with honesty. And where does it get me?”

“What would you want me for anyway?” Elizabeth asked. “I’ve kept even with all my work.”

“No, you don’t understand. I need a — Andrew and I manage better when there’s a buffer, so to speak. Somebody neutral. His brothers are no help at all. Matthew is always in a daze anyway, and Timothy just flies off somewhere. These two weeks he’s having a run of tests, isn’t that typical? I believe he arranged it that way, so that I’d be left alone with — oh, nothing that I say is what I mean. I love Andrew, sometimes I think I might love him best of all. And he’s so much better now. He’s not nearly so — he doesn’t have that — nothing’s really wrong with him, you know.”

Elizabeth peered into her side mirror.

“Why don’t you say something?”

“Just trying to change lanes,” Elizabeth said, and she leaned out the window. “How come this mirror is at such a funny angle?”

“I can’t put the visit off,” said Mrs. Emerson, “because he likes to come when things are in bloom. He’s already missed most of it. I wonder why Timothy can’t study at home? Talk to him, Elizabeth. Make him change his mind.”

“I’m against things like that,” Elizabeth said. “What if I changed his mind and he stayed home and got run over by a truck? What if the house burned down?”

“What?” Mrs. Emerson passed a hand across her forehead. “I’m not in the mood for an outline of your philosophy, Elizabeth. I’m worried. Oh, wouldn’t you think my children could be a little happier?” She waited, as if she really expected an answer. Then she said, “I suppose you’re going home with someone from a bulletin board.”

“Well, no.”

“You’re taking the train?”

“I’m going with Matthew,” Elizabeth said.

“Matthew?”

“That’s right.”

“Matthew Emerson?”

Elizabeth laughed.

“Well, I don’t know all the Matthews you might know,” Mrs. Emerson said. “I don’t understand. What would Matthew be going to North Carolina for?”

“To take me home.”

“You mean he’s going especially for you?”

“I invited him.”

“Oh. You’re taking him to meet your family.”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth, and flicked her turn signal.

“Does that have any significance?”

“No.”

“This is so confusing,” Mrs. Emerson said.

Which made Elizabeth laugh again. The spring air gave her a light-headed feeling, and she was enjoying the drive and the thought of taking a trip with Matthew. She didn’t care where the trip was to. But Mrs. Emerson, who misinterpreted the laugh, sat straighter in her seat.

“I am his mother,” she said.

“Well, yes.”

“I believe I have some right to know these things.”

Elizabeth braked at a stop sign.

“That would explain Timothy’s strange mood,” Mrs. Emerson said.

“He doesn’t know about it yet.”

“Well, what are you doing? Are you playing off one brother against another? Lately you’ve seen so much of Matthew, but you still go out with Timothy. Why is that?”

“Timothy invites me,” Elizabeth said.

“If you tell me again that you accept all invitations, I’m going to scream.”

“All right.”

“I didn’t want to mention this, Elizabeth, because it’s certainly none of my business, but lately I’ve worried that people might think there’s something easy about you. You can never be too careful of your reputation. Out at all hours, dressed any way, with any poor soul who happens along — and I can’t help noticing how Timothy always seems to have his hand at the back of your neck whenever he’s with you. That gives me such a queasy feeling. There’s something so — and now Matthew! Taking Matthew home to your parents! Are you thinking of marrying him?”

“He never asked,” Elizabeth said.

“Don’t tell me you accept all invitations to marry, too.”

“No,” said Elizabeth. She wasn’t laughing any more. She drove with her hands low on the wheel, white at the knuckles.

“Then why are you taking him home?”

Elizabeth turned sharply into the garage, flinging Mrs. Emerson sideways.

“Elizabeth?”

“I said it had no significance,” Elizabeth said.

Then she cut the motor and slammed out of the car. She didn’t open the door for Mrs. Emerson. She snatched her cap off her head and threw it in a high arc, landing it accidentally on the same rafter where she had found it. Was that how it got there in the first place? She stopped and stared up at the rafter, amused. Behind her Mrs. Emerson’s door opened and closed again, hesitantly, not quite latching.

“Elizabeth?” Mrs. Emerson said.

Elizabeth turned and went out the side door, with Mrs. Emerson close behind.

“Elizabeth, in a way I think of you as another daughter.”

“I’m already somebody’s daughter,” Elizabeth said. “Once is enough.”

“Yes. I didn’t mean — I meant that I feel the same concern , you see. I only want you to be happy. I hate to see you wasting yourself. I mentioned what I did for your own good, don’t you know that?”

Elizabeth didn’t answer. She was climbing the hill so fast that Mrs. Emerson had to run to keep up with her. “Please slow down,” Mrs. Emerson said. “This isn’t good for my chest. If you must play chauffeur, couldn’t you have dropped me at the front door?”

“Oh, is that what they do?”

“It’s just that you seem so — aimless. You don’t make any distinctions in your life. How do I know that you won’t go wandering off with someone tomorrow and leave me to cope on my own?”

“You don’t,” said Elizabeth. But she had slowed down by now, and when they reached the back door she held it open for Mrs. Emerson before she entered herself.

It was one of Alvareen’s sick-days, and she had left the kitchen a clutter of dirty dishes and garbage bags that they had to pick their way through gingerly. Then when they reached the front hall they heard someone upstairs. Slow footsteps crossed a room above them. Mrs. Emerson clutched Elizabeth’s arm and said, “Did you hear that?”

“Someone upstairs,” Elizabeth said.

“Well, do you — should we — could you find out who it is?”

Elizabeth tilted her head back. “Who is it?” she shouted.

“I could have done that,” Mrs. Emerson said.

Then Timothy appeared in the upstairs hall, stuffing something into his suit pocket. “Hi there,” he said.

“Timothy!” said his mother. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in my room.”

“We thought you were a burglar. Well, it’s fortunate you’ve come, I have a favor to ask you.”