Beaming Sonny Home by Cathie Pelletier Read Free Book Online Page A

had always been her favorite, it was true, and that was probably because he was the one who married Rita and took her out of the house before she drove Mattie crazy.
    â€œSince Rita got that microwave,” Henry was saying, “all I hear around this house is beep, beep, beep. You’d swear this was a Volkswagen dealership.” He inhaled more smoke.
    â€œWell, that’s better than hearing nothing at all,” said Mattie. “Grow up, Henry. Life’s short enough as it is. Learn to fry your own bacon, sweetie. Make yourself a pancake now and then. It’ll swell you with pride.” She flopped the phone back onto its cradle and slid her legs over the side of her bed. Sonny. It was all back now, the reason that she should feel terrible and not good, not glad that the rain was over and sunshine was now blasting its way into her house, tearing up the curtains, splattering all the rugs. Not good that the smell of coffee and bacon would soon be filling the tiny kitchen, like sweet puffs of angel breath. Those smells would also rouse her daughters and they would rise like the zombies Mattie remembered from their high school days, rubbing their crusty eyes and reaching blindly for cups on the bottom shelf of the cupboard. Sonny. Had there been any new developments? Would they be good developments?
    â€œGo home and fix your husband his breakfast, Rita,” Mattie said loudly. “He’s talking about finding himself a new woman.” She banged on the door to Sonny’s room. She had been tempted to tell her daughters that the old yellow bus was coming and they’d be late again for school. How many mornings had she played out that script in her life, waiting for that yellow squash of a bus to slide into the yard and toot its horn? More mornings than she cared to count.
    â€œTell him to put a couple slices of bread in the toaster, for crying out loud,” was Rita’s sleepy answer. “And to microwave some rolled oats. They’re in that little package all ready to go.” Mattie stared down at the doorknob, that silver fist that was supposed to be guarding Sonny’s room, keeping out intruders. Why hadn’t she just locked the damn door before the girls could hole up inside, the way Sonny had holed up in that trailer?
    â€œMaybe Henry don’t have the energy to work the microwave,” Mattie said through the door. “Maybe he needs to eat first.”
    â€œOh, Mama, listen at you,” said Rita’s drowsy voice. “What does Henry need energy for? He ain’t got nowhere to go. And he sure as hell ain’t looking for another woman. Henry’s had it with women. He’s said so a million times.”
    â€œWill you two shut up?” Mattie heard Marlene say. “Show a little respect for the dead.” Bedsprings squeaked loudly and Mattie knew that Marlene was turning over on her side, hoping for a bit more sleep. Mattie had seen that trick, too, many times in her career as their mother. Well, let them sleep. At least they wouldn’t be under her feet while she had her morning coffee.
    In the tiny kitchen Mattie put her plate on the table first, then placed her favorite coffee mug beside it. World’s Greatest Grandma , the mug declared. Mattie doubted this sincerely, but the mug had a deep, round body, able to hold a cup and a half of coffee. Two mugfuls always got her through the Today show. She put her frying pan on the stove, turned the burner on high, then went to the refrigerator for her pound of bacon. Four strips, side by side, no more, no less, and then it was time for the strawberry jam. When the bacon was half-cooked, she plopped two slices of bread into her toaster and lowered them. She could turn on the radio and tune in to the country station in Watertown. She did that many mornings when she was waiting for the Today show to come on. But what if the radio had some new developments about Sonny? She had ignored the