Frost on My Window Read Online Free Page A

I continued to stare at his sleeping face and my heart felt lighter for the first time in months. I stood slowly and in the early light of day walked towards the house, not looking back. Having bared half my soul that night, I couldn’t find the courage to stay and talk.
    * * *
    “Hey,” came Rena’s loud voice.
    “Hmmm,” I responded.
    “Snap out of it, girlfriend, or we’re about to take the scenic route through north Philly. Which exit do I take?”
    I guided Rena towards home and felt my neck relax and breath ease as the car turned down each familiar street. Rena pulled up in the driveway and switched off the engine. Before I could open the car door, Mom and Pop walked out the front door. Their eyes held no reproach for my widely spaced visits and move to the West Coast. Ralph’s transfer to Atlanta had broken their hearts. First born, first to leave. My older brother ran from Philly hoping to find the New York of the South more to his liking.
    Mom started her fussing as soon as the hugs were over.
    “You girls have gotten so thin. What have you been eating?” Her dark eyes scanned my frame. “I know you haven’t been eating right. You need to get some more meat on your bones.” Her fingers lightly pinched my arm. “I don’t want to hear no mess about either of you picking up that white woman’s disease. We won’t have no…”
    “Anorexia,” Rena supplied.
    Mom nodded her head. Lillie Russell looked fantastic. Mom walked two miles a day and her auburn-colored hair was pulled back in a stylish French twist.
    “That’s the one,” she declared. “We won’t have it in this family.”
    “Auntie…Mom,” Rena and I said simultaneously.
    Rena continued, “Neither of us is in any danger of becoming anorexic. Shoot, we have better chances at winning the lottery without buying a ticket.”
    I had to laugh at Rena’s comeback. The women in our family are big boned. No matter how much time I spend at the gym, this backside of mine isn’t going anywhere. It was a gift from someone on my mother’s side of the family with a no money back, no return, no exchange policy attached.
    “I almost can’t believe the two of you made it,” Mom exclaimed.
    I looked over at Rena just in time to see her roll her eyes. The back of my throat tickled with mirth. This was going to be Rena at her best. She could wrap Mom around her little finger.
    “How could we miss out on your red velvet cake? I’ve been dreaming about it since last week. Not to mention your pot roast. How could we pass that up?” Rena wrapped her arms around Mom’s waist and started towards the door.
    As if swept away by a sudden gust of wind, my mother’s reprimands vanished. Cooking was her pride and joy, the kitchen her domain. Children and husband were allowed only to watch her work and to later offer proper praise for her delicious meals.
    “She sure does know how to handle your mother,” Pop leaned in close to whisper in my ear. I turned my head towards him and looked into a mirror. Father’s daughter. I was Pop’s spitting image, and he mine, visible Russell cheekbones and wide, almond-shaped eyes framed by clear, deep brown, maple skin.
    “Maybe we should take lessons?” I whispered.
    Rena, Mother’s sister’s child. To me Rena was a long-wished for sister and blood kin first cousin. Yet she was more to my mother. She was a chance to make the past right. Sister’s child. She was my mother’s best friend, accomplice, and little girl child. When younger, Rena would sit still for hours between her legs as Mom’s hands braided and twisted, pulled and laced her hair.
    My cousin would close her eyes and my mother’s voice would always grow husky, as she wove stories of Aunt Mary into each strand of her hair. The gradual transformation would take place over hours as I watched. Mom’s face would lose its firmness and her lips would soften as if she were asleep, napping with remembrance, and she would tell her childhood