Mother was frantic. Trip after trip, up and down the stairs searching for something. I watched her go thru her apron pockets over and over, come out empty handed. Her black dress purse has been unused for weeks and still she took it off her closet shelf, turned it inside out and put it back. The tan every day purse remained on the kitchen table, all the inside stuff laying exposed. Her heavy footsteps clopped down the cellar steps. I heard her going thru the clothes that had to be washed. What in the world was she searching for in the refrigerator?
It was almost dinner time and Dad would be home soon. Nothing was ready. ‘Mom, what’s for supper?’ I asked. She stopped on a dime, let out a squeaky squeal, got a large knife and began slicing a foot long salami into thick pieces. ‘Darla, run to Harry’s bakery and get us a ten cent loaf of fresh sliced rye bread. Tell him I’ll pay him tomorrow.’ I ran and was back fast. Warm home-made potato salad was in her favorite white bowl on the table along with plates of half done pickles and gherkins (especially for me). Water glasses were filled. ‘Darla, get the mustard and the big spoon for the potato salad on the table.’ She looked over the light meal and was ready when Daddy opened the front door, punctually at 5:30.
Tears in her eyes, she waited in the kitchen for him . He knew something was wrong and put his arm around her and asked, ‘What’s wrong, Lottie?’ She blinked away the tears and replied, ‘I don’t want to tell you now, Sammy. Wash your hands and we’ll eat.’ Daddy is first to make his sandwich. It was so thick, pieces of salami drenched with mustard fell on the clean white table cloth. ‘Slob, slob, look what you’ve done. Mustard stains don’t come out.’ Daddy was sorry. Mother cried again. ‘
‘Tell me, Lottie, who died?’ Smart alecky Mom replied, ‘My father, mother, my aunt Sarah. They all died.’ Dad was peeved. ‘I know they all died years ago so why are you crying now?’ My mother put her hands over her ears and answered. ‘I don’t even want to hear myself tell you but I lost the five dollar bill you gave me this morning. I’ve searched the house over and over, haven’t left for a minute, didn’t take the trash out that you were supposed to take to the curb. Darla got the fresh rye for us. Ask Darla, just ask her, how hard I looked for it.’
Dad put his napkin in his water glass and was working on the mustard stain while he finished the salami sandwich. When he finished it and his two helpings of potato salad, he banged his fist on the table. ‘Damn it, Lottie. For this you give me heartburn, indigestion? For this you cry? For this you make yourself sick?’
With no hesitation Mother gave her answer. ‘Yes, Sammy. I am proud to be careful, be responsible for my actions. I lost my extra grocery money. You work hard for us and I lost the money, our money!’ Daddy took his plate to the kitchen counter and went directly to the hall closet. When he came back to us, he was holding his wallet. ‘Look, Lottie’ He laughed and told her (and me) to look at it as he counted. ‘See, I have two ten dollar bills, one twenty and four fives. I should only have three fives. I forgot to leave your bill on the table before I went to work.’ He looked sheepish and apologized, ‘I’m sorry, dear Lottie.’
My mother almost collapsed on the kitchen floor. The strain had drained her. She just laid still, worn out. Suddenly she sat up, began crying again. ‘Damn you, Sammy. You aggravate me to death but I love you anyhow. Darla said she would like us to finish the apple pie I baked yesterday. Daddy and I said as one, ‘We are all here. Yes, let’s finish it off.’ Mother looked at us, a tear of joy stuck in the corner of each eye.
‘Should I warm it in the oven?’
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