swinging, red pumps clicking on the linoleumâthat she attracted the attention of everyone in the store. Michael pretended not to know her well.
He and Esther returned to the condominium with a thirty-gallon tank and twenty hermit crabs.
Michael figured heâd have a heart attack before he got the heavy tank into their living room. He figured heâd die and Aunt Esther would inherit twenty-one crabs and funeral expenses.
But he made it. Esther carried the box of crabs.
âWonât Sluggo be surprised?â she asked happily. âOh, I do hope weâll be able to tell him apart from the rest. Heâs their founding father!â
Michael, in a stupor over his Aunt Esther and the phenomenon of twenty-one hermit crabs, wiped out the tank, arranged it with gravel and sticks (as well as the plastic scuba diver Aunt Esther insisted on buying) and assistedher in loading it up, one by one, with the new residents. The crabs were as overwhelmed as Michael. Not one showed its face.
Before moving Sluggo from his bowl, Aunt Esther marked his shell with some red fingernail polish so she could distinguish him from the rest. Then she flopped down on the couch beside Michael.
âOh, what would your mother think, Michael, if she could see this mess weâve gotten ourselves into!â
She looked at Michael with a broad smile, but it quickly disappeared. The boyâs eyes were full of pain.
âOh, my,â she whispered. âIâm sorry.â
Michael turned his head away.
Aunt Esther, who had not embraced anyone in years, gently put her arm about his shoulders.
âI am so sorry, Michael. Oh, you must hate me.
Michael sensed a familiar smell then. His motherâs talc.
He looked at his aunt.
âNo, Aunt Esther.â He shook his head solemnly. âI donât hate you.â
Estherâs mouth trembled and her banglesclanked as she patted his arm. She took a deep, strong breath.
âWell, letâs look in on our friend Sluggo,â she said.
They leaned their heads over the tank and found him. The crab, finished with the old home that no longer fit, was coming out of his shell.