For One More Day by Mitch Albom Read Free Book Online

meaning it was done, she
    removed the magnetized top. She shut off the water. She wiped her hands on the front of her apron.
    "So, " she said, turning to me, "are you hungry? "
    THE FIRST TIME I heard the word "divorcee" was after an American Legion baseball game. The coaches were throwing bats in the back ofa station wagon, and one of the fathers from the other team picked up my bat by mistake. I ran over and said, "That one's mine. "
    "It is?" he said, rolling it in his palm. "Yeah. I brought it with me on my bike. "
    He could have doubted that, since most kids came with their dads.
    "OK, " he said, handing it over. Then he squinted and said, "You're the divorcee's kid, right? "
    I looked back, wordless. Divorcee? It sounded exotic, and I did not think of my mother that way. The men used to ask, "You're Len Benetto's kid, right? " and I'm not sure which bothered me more, being the son of this new word, or no longer being the son of the old ones.
    " So how's your mom doing? " he asked. I shrugged. "She's doing good. "
    "Yeah? " he said. His eyes darted around the field, then back to me.
    "She need any help around the house?
    I felt as if my mother was standing behind me, and I was the only thing between them.
    "She's doing good, " I said again. He nodded.
    If it's possible to distrust a nod, I did.
    STILL, IF THAT was the day "divorcee" became familiar, I remember distinctly the day it became abhorrent. My mother had come home from work and sent me to the local market for some ketchup and rolls.
    I decided to take a shortcut through the backyards. When I came around the side of a brick ranch house, I
    saw two older kids from school huddled there, one of them, a beefy kid named Leon, shielding something against his chest.
    "Hey, Benetto," he said quickly. "Hey, Leon, " I said.
    I looked at the other kid. "Hey, Luke. " "Hey, Chick. "
    "Where you going? " Leon said. "Fanelli's, " I said.
    "Yeah? " "Yeah. "
    He released his grip. He was holding binoculars. "What are those for? "
    I said.
    He turned to face the trees. "Army gear," he said. "Bino's. " "Twenty times magnification," Luke said.
    "Lemme see. "
    He handed them over, and I held them to my eyes. They were warm around the rims. I moved them up and down, catching blurry colors of the sky, then the pine trees, then my feet.
    "They use 'em in the war," Luke said, "to locate the enemy. "They're my dad's, " Leon said.
    I hated hearing that word. I handed them back. "See ya," I said.
    Leon nodded. "See ya. "
    I walked on, but my thoughts were uneasy. Something about how Leon had turned to the trees, too quickly, you know? So I circled back behind the house and hid in the hedges. What I saw bothers me to this day.
    The two of them were huddled close now, no longer facing the trees but facing the other way, toward my house, passing the binoculars. I followed the sight line to my mother's bedroom window. I saw her shadow move across the pane, her arms lifted over her head, and I immediately thought: home from work, changing her clothes, bedroom. I felt myself go cold. Something shot from my neck to my feet.
    "Oooweee, " Leon cooed, "look at the divorcee ..."
    I don't think I ever felt fury like that, not before and not since. I ran to those boys with blood in my eyes, and even though they were bigger than me, I jumped them from behind and grabbed Leon by the neck and threw punches at anything that moved, anything at all.
    Walking
    MY MOTHER PULLED ON her white tweed coat and shook her shoulders beneath it, letting it settle. She had spent her final years doing hair and makeup for homebound elderly women, going house to house, keeping their beauty rituals alive. She had three such "appointments"
    today, she said. I followed her, still dazed, out through the garage.
    "Do you want to walk by the lake, Charley?" she said. "It's so nice this time of day."
    I nodded speechlessly. How much time had passed since I lay in that wet grass, staring at a wreck? How long before someone tracked