The Calling by Barbara Steiner Read Free Book Online Page B

to the stove to heat water for tea, she was greeted by a smell from the Mr. Coffee and the rattle of the newspaper. Her mother sat reading the New York Times , sipping from her favorite coffee cup.
    â€œDid you stay up late?” Her mother was too perceptive. And as usual she used good lawyer tactics of cross-examination.
    â€œSort of. But where were you?” Miki countered with her own attack. “I never even heard you come in.” Miki had no problem with a little white lie in order to hear about her mother’s evening. “Hot date?”
    â€œNone of your business.” Her mother’s face turned pink and she ducked her head back into the front page of the newspaper. It was the sports section, which gave away the pretense that she was actually reading it.
    Miki took her mother’s embarrassment to mean she felt vulnerable on this subject. She softened her voice. “That means you did. I’m glad, Mom. Share when you feel like it. Meanwhile I’ll be forever curious, but patient.” Miki decided she needed the instant jolt coffee would give her versus the time-release caffeine of hot tea. She poured a cup and stirred in milk and sugar so the drink wouldn’t be so bitter, all the while giving her mother some time.
    She would like to be friends with her mother, and she had made approaches before, but her mother always responded in a businesslike manner, stiff and cool. It hadn’t always been like this. Miki remembered their family as being close once, laughing and playing together, sometimes like three children. She had been ten when her father left, so there were some good memories that Miki could play back. Did Mom ever play them back, or were they too painful? How long did she have to live with the pain? Forever? Not knowing what had happened to him made the loss more difficult. Was he dead? Hiding, or living another life that he liked better?
    On impulse, Miki stepped over and rested her hand on her mother’s shoulder. At first she felt stiff resistance all through her mother’s body. Then her mother relaxed a little and spoke quickly.
    â€œLet’s trade. You tell me about your new job, then I’ll tell you about Chuck.” Her mother lay aside the newspaper with a shaking hand. Quickly she clutched her coffee mug to hide it.
    â€œChuck? Is he a cowboy?” Miki giggled and thought of Romney. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard a man giggle. She liked the funny habit.
    â€œNo silly, some New Yorkers are named Chuck. Charles is his real name, but he likes to be called Chuck.” Her mother folded and unfolded the paper, then finally gave Miki her full attention. “You first, remember?”
    â€œOkay, I like the troupe. I—I’m almost afraid to tell you about the show, because it’s kind of a weird concept. So you have to promise you won’t have a heart attack when I tell you.”
    â€œI’m going to have a stroke if you don’t, Miki. How weird?” Her mother’s voice tightened again and she seemed eager to disapprove. Miki should have chosen a better word to describe her new friends.
    â€œWell, the dancing is combined with trapeze work, and everyone—well almost everyone—we—they pretend to be vampires.”
    â€œVampires? What is this bunch called?” Her mother looked skeptical, and Miki was afraid she was sharing her new friends too soon. She was so full of the joy and the fun and the newness of it that she wanted to share.
    â€œThey call themselves The Theater of the Dead. You know, vampires are called the living dead because they never die and—”
    â€œI know all that folklore, Miki. Your father loved it. If there was a scary movie within fifty miles we had to go see it.” Her mother reached for a piece of toast and smeared too much butter on it. Then she turned it round and round and round as if she didn’t plan to eat it, just play with