A Mother's Love Read Online Free

wrapped her arms and legs around me as if she were a monkey clinging to a branch. Often at home Sam would crawl into bed beside me, though I tried to kick her away. She’d hold on, no matter what I did to pry her loose. But in that motel room I let her cling to me as tightly as she ever had, and did not pry her away.
    It was late the next day when we arrived back at the Valley of Fire trailer park. My father sat in a lawn chair on the porch, cigarette dangling from his mouth, a drink in a tall amber-colored glass clutched in his fist. He rushed to us when he saw the car. “Oh, thank God!” he cried, pressing me and Sam to him. “Thank God you’re home.”
    I don’t know how many nights later it was when I woke to find my mother standing in the doorway of my room. The light from the bathroom shone behind her and I could see the curve of her hips, the outline of her form. She was naked and trembling. My mother had a trim, sleek body with breasts that were sturdy and taut, and sheoften walked around the house naked. She seemed very strong physically, though she did nothing to stay in shape. But now she shook like a frightened rabbit. “Oh, Ivy,” I heard her say, leaning her body against the doorjamb, “I had a bad dream.”
    â€œWhat did you dream about?” I asked. Her long black hair was disheveled. She was waiting for me to invite her in. Sam, who slept in the bed next to mine, stirred slightly. I was happy to be the elder, to have my mother confiding in me. She came in, pushing my legs aside, and sat down on the bed.
    â€œOh, I don’t want to tell you. It was about my early life.” I knew little about my mother’s past, and what I did would come after she was gone, from my father, though his past was also vague. It seemed then as if my parents had come from nowhere, and later, when I learned about spontaneous generation in school, I thought they had sprouted from the soil.
    Now she began to weep. Dropping her head, she sank onto the pillow beside me. I didn’t know what to do. I put my arms around her and she nestled into them. Her flesh was soft and smooth, and she smelled of perfume and liquor, cigarettes and soap.
    â€œNo matter what happens, promise me, Ivy, promise me,” she said, “that you’ll be a big girl. You’ll be strong.”
    â€œWhat’s going to happen?” I asked.
    â€œNothing. I don’t know.” She clasped my hands. “You know what I hope? I hope that when you’re grown up, we can be friends. We can take walks and talk about everything that’s happened to us.”
    Tears welled up in her eyes and she pulled me to her. Her breath was warm against my face; her nipples pressed into my chest. I stroked her hair. I don’t know how much later it was that my mother fell asleep and I sat up beside her, hovering the way I’d once seen a dog in a movie beside his dead master, not letting anyone near.

THREE
    P ATRICIA CAMPBELL sat at her kitchen counter, making gazpacho in a blender and Heloise’s boric acid roach balls in a bowl. “That looks good,” I said, pointing to the roach balls as I walked in. She handed me the recipe. Sugar, flour, bacon fat, onions, boric acid.
    â€œThe roaches love them,” Patricia said as she mashed the mix, stuffed it into small aluminum-foil boats, and tucked them into drawers. “I haven’t seen you for a while.” She tossed her blond hair off her face with the back of her hand. She stood tall, regal, like a figurehead on the prow of a ship.
    â€œWell, it’s not so easy for me to get downtown these days,” I said with a laugh, pushing the stroller into a corner and dropping Bobby’s bag, filled with his bottles, diapers, change of clothes. I rubbed my shoulder where the bag had been.
    Patricia reached for an armful of wet clothes and tossed them into the dryer. She dropped another load into the washer. I glanced into her