Turn of Mind by Alice Laplante Read Free Book Online Page B

explain.
    Then she spoke. I want this, she said. Her voice was soft but firm. Will you give it to me?
    Mark, who had been lolling on the steps, sat up straight. I could only look. There was a long silence before a car horn sounded on Fullerton, causing both Mark and me to jump. Amanda didn’t move.
    Well? she said. I won’t ask if I can buy it, because I know I can’t afford it. So I think you will give it to me. Yes. I think so.
    I stood up, walked over to where she was sitting on the porch swing, and took the icon from her hands. It took some effort, she was holding on so tightly.
    Why now? Why this? I asked. You’ve never asked for anything before. Never.
    And you’ve always been so generous to me, she said. Bringing me gifts from your travels. Lovely things. The most beautiful things I own in the world come from you. But I hope you won’t mind me saying that they meant nothing. Mean nothing. Such things never touched me. But this. This is something else.
    Mark surprised both of us by clearing his throat and speaking. But Mom loves this. It’s not just a souvenir to her. He opened his mouth as if to say more, then blushed and closed it.
    I understand that, Amanda said. Which is one of the reasons I want it so much. Not the only reason. But a main one.
    No, I said. My voice came out stronger and louder than I had meant it to. This is mine. Anything else, you know I’d be happy to give you whatever you wanted. Money has never been an object.
    No, it wouldn’t be, she said, and there was a warning in her voice. Mark was watching everything intently.
    No, I said again. I rewrapped my icon and placed it back in its box. No and no and no. This time, you’ve gone too far.
    I left her porch, and it was many weeks before I felt calm enough to speak to her again. Many lonely weeks. Then, she knocked on my door one Friday noon. Our standing appointment. And I got my coat and joined her. It was done. She had made a request—something I imagined was a humbling experience—and had been refused. There was nothing more to say.
    Yet there was an odd coda to all this. Mark went off to Northwestern in the fall, as planned. Since his dorm was less than twenty minutes away, it was not as momentous a leave-taking as Fiona’s was to California four years later.
    But it was traumatic for him. During the days before he left he was extraordinarily demanding. I need a study pillow. My roommate doesn’t have a TV, we need to buy one. And even, Bake me some cookies.
    It was also a particularly busy time at work, and I gave most of these demands short shrift. Still, it was more draining than I had anticipated. It wasn’t until the morning after we’d dropped him off in Evanston, leaving him standing in front of his dorm, that I realized my icon was gone. A blank spot in its position of honor in the front hallway.
    I immediately called Mark, but there was no answer. I left an urgent message on his machine, and paced from room to room, to the phone to call James, back to the front window, to the phone to try Mark again.
    I didn’t for a minute think it could be anyone else. I had found Mark standing in front of it on more than one occasion, a bemused look on his face, his hand outstretched as if to caress the Madonna’s face. When the doorbell rang, I jumped. Amanda stood there, cradling the icon.
    Look at what was on my doorstep yesterday morning, she said, and held it out.
    I took it. My hands were shaking. I found I was unable to speak.
    Yesterday morning? I managed to ask, finally. What took you so long to come around?
    Amanda didn’t say anything. She merely smiled. I eventually answered myself.
    Because you weren’t sure you were going to return it, I said.
    Amanda seemed to be considering what to say.
    I was touched by Mark’s gesture, she said.
    And you coveted it. Badly. As badly as I had.
    Yes, I did. And I asked you to give it to me. And you said no.
    I said no.