Page 65 - Contrast2016

CONTRAST - 63

ITHACA

BY ALEX SEILER

"Mom?"
Julia's head snaps up. As she blinks the sleep from her eyes, for a moment,
her heart stops: she could swear the figure in the living room doorway is her own
ghost, seventeen and beautiful again. She has the same mass of dark curls, the
same high cheekbones and wide blue eyes, the same full-lipped frown. It is only a
skipped beat, though, and she exhales slowly.
"Ann-Marie," she says, half-sighing. She knows she should be stern- this is the
second time this week that her eldest daughter has come home late, her lipstick
rubbed off and leaving only the faintest traces of red at the corners of her mouth,
her hair tousled and tangled, trailing the lightest scent of cigarette smoke- but she
doesn't quite have it in her, not tonight.
"Why are you even up?" Ann-Marie asks, running a hand through her hair. She
doesn't look embarrassed, guilty, or even apologetic. "I told you I wasn't sure when
I was going to be home."
"I accidentally dozed off. I was up knitting." The excuse rings hollow in her own
ears. There are no needles or yarn lying on the table, or wedged into the armchair
she's sitting in. Just the telephone on the table, and an empty water glass.
Ann-Marie puts a hand on her hip and looks at her mother. "Mom."
"I could ask you the same thing," Julia says. "What time is it? We agreed last
week that you wouldn't stay out past eleven."
"It's not even midnight, Mom. I got home at ten-thirty. The car's been parked in
the driveway since then. I went for a walk down the beach. I was practically within
sight of the house."
"Alone?"
"Mom. Yes, alone. Jesus."
"I'm just worried about you. It's my job. I'm your mother."
"I know," says Ann-Marie. She opens her mouth, then closes it again, and her
shoulders relax. Julia can't hear the sigh, but she can see it in the way her daugh-
ter's eyes close, the way she slouches just a little. This is not an armistice, but
Ann-Marie has surrendered this battle. "Sorry. I should have let you know where I
was going after I got back. I didn't mean to worry you, I just wanted a little time
alone to clear my head. You know I've been taking walks down the beach by myself
for years. You know Gloria does it, too. Again, why are you even up? You don't
ever stay up for me."
"I was knitting," Julia says again.
"Mom. It's been how many years? I'm not even sure I believe that you know
how to knit. I've never seen you finish a single project, and you've been promising
me scarves for Christmas since I was ten. Come on, seriously. I'm not a kid any-
more."
"I thought your father might call," says Julia quietly, evenly.
Ann-Marie bites her lower lip, her teeth pulling the chapped skin taut and white.
"Did he?"
"No," says Julia.
"Do you really think he's going to?"
"He might."