Baptism in Blood(11)
“I’m sure you’re not,” Maggie said.
“It’s what I have such a hard time explaining to Shelley about all of this,” Carol said. “That I’m not different than I ever was. That I haven’t changed. Because I haven’t changed. I just understand some things about myself now that I didn’t understand before.”
“I’m sure it will work out, Carol. You have to give it time.”
“I could understand her reaction if she was religious or something. If she went to church and believed in God. I remember from Catholic school that God wasn’t supposed to like lesbians.”
“I think he’s supposed to like them well enough, Carol. I think he’s just not supposed to like what they do in bed with each other.”
“Whatever. The thing is though, she’s not religious at all. I mean, she’s having this christening, but it’s at some church I’ve never heard of. Congregationalist. We were never Congregationalists.”
“Lots of people have their children christened who don’t even believe in God, Carol. It’s a ritual. A rite of passage.”
“I know,” Carol said eagerly. “That’s the point. She’s having this christening, but she really isn’t religious, and so I don’t understand. Why she’s so upset about all this. About me. Why she hates me for it.”
“Are you sure she hates you for it?”
“She won’t talk to me, Maggie. She won’t answer my letters. She won’t even open my letters. The last one I sent to her came back stamped ‘addressee unknown.’ But I know that isn’t true. I know she hasn’t moved. Her address was in the christening announcement. It’s the same as it always was.”
Maggie got a box-filled with paperback copies of Agatha Christie mysteries and started to tape it shut. “Maybe you ought to just let it go for a while, Carol. Maybe you ought to give Shelley a little time to get used to the idea. To get used to you.”
“It’s been months, Maggie. Months.”
“I know.”
Carol looked down at her hands. Like everything else about her, they were heavy and graceless and shapeless and dull. Maggie turned her attention to her books, forcing herself not to notice.
“Anyway,” Carol said. “I bought this picture. For my granddaughter. For Melissa.
“But I was thinking,” she went on, “that if Shelley knows it’s from me, she’ll just send it back, and that won’t be any good at all. So I thought there might be a way to send it without anyone knowing it came from me. If you see what I mean.”
“Not really.”
“Well,” Carol said. “I thought you—you know. You go up to New York every month practically. You could maybe take it up, all wrapped and everything, and mail it from there.”
“Does Shelley know anybody in New York?”
“No. No, I don’t think so. But she knows I’m not in New York. She knows I’m here. I’m in touch with—with her father.”
“Are you really? That must be interesting.”
“We have to stay in touch. It’s very complicated when you’ve been married for twenty-five years. There are considerations.”
“Move out of the way a little, Carol. I’ve got to get at the Linda Lael Millers.”
Carol got up and pushed the folding chair along the carpet. Then she sat down in it again. She put the Madonna back in its brown paper bag and put the brown paper bag across her lap.
“You wouldn’t have to do anything about it,” she said. “I would wrap it up and address it and all that. On a typewriter, so that Shelley can’t recognize my handwriting. I’ll be very careful. It’s just—you know. She’s my granddaughter. I want to do something for her. I want to give her something just from me. I wish they’d had a picture of her in the paper.”
“Can’t you get your ex-husband to send you one? Or are you worried that Shelley wouldn’t like that, either?”
Carol blushed. “My husband wouldn’t help me. My husband is with Shelley on all of this. He goes around and tells people I left him for another woman.”
“And did you?”
“Of course I didn’t. I didn’t even meet Zhondra until after the divorce. He’s the one who left me.”
The Linda Lael Millers were all packed away. Now she had to put the historical romances into something. Maggie brushed the palms of her hands against the front of her apron.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
Carol brightened up. “You will? But that’s wonderful. Thank you.”