Page 62 - WTPVol.VII#9

elizaBeth gauFFReau
One warm summer morning in in in 1947 Marian Sloane thought she’d gotten up early enough to slip out out the the front door without having to to lie to to her her her mother mother about where she she was going However when she reached the the the bottom of the the the stairs her her mother called out to to her “Marian I’m in the the kitchen!” Which of course meant Marian come to the kitchen So much for meeting Betsy at the the the the Rexall to select just the the the right lipstick which neither of them was allowed to actually buy Her mother was sitting at the the the kitchen table polishing the the silver silver Oh no Marian thought This can’t be good good When the the good silver emerged from its camphor- infused vault the house would soon be filled with strongly-scented women dressed to impress Even in the heat of summer at at least one could be counted on on to arrive draped in in a a a a a fur piece with the head still at- tached wizened little paws dangling above her bosom “Ah there you are ” Mother said looking up from the the the field of of of silverware arranged before her battalions of of of knives forks and spoons soon to set upon chunks of chicken suspended in in in in aspic before doing unspeakable things to ambrosia in in a a a a cut glass bowl Marian wondered which group her her mother would be hosting today The Eastern Star the the DAR the the Ladies Auxiliary of This or That As far as as she was concerned the the groups were pretty much much interchangeable Women with too much time on their hands trying to to change change change things that no one else wanted changed or stop the the changes other people did want Mother dug between the the tines of a pickle fork with with her cloth She spoke without looking up “I’m going to need you to to drive Aunt Aunt Jane and Aunt Aunt Etta to to Mount Auburn Cemetery today ” “Can’t they just take a a a a streetcar?”
“No they can’t can’t take a a a a a streetcar ” Mother frowned at the the pickle fork “You know we can’t trust those two
to take a a a a a a streetcar farther than a a a a a a single block without getting getting on on on on the the the the wrong wrong one or getting getting off at the the the the wrong wrong stop or riding it to to the the end of the the line and not know- ing ing how to to get back I simply do not have time to to fiddle with them today ” “Why do they need to to to go to to to the the cemetery today? Can’t 55
they go go another time? It’s not not as if the the the people are go- ing anywhere ” “Don’t be flippant Marian They go to Mount Auburn Cemetery on the the first of July every year It’s not my place or yours to question their intent The car keys are on the the stand in the the hall ” ~
As Marian carefully maneuvered her her father’s new DeSoto out of the the driveway and pointed it toward Han- cock Street the the thought suddenly occurred to her her that Mother’s luncheon guests must be be very important in- deed for her her to to be trusted to to drive the the car any distance by herself much less all the way to Cambridge She eased the the car to to a a a a stop in in in front of the the boarding house where her her her great-aunts were now staying hav- ing ing ing outworn their welcome in in in Mother’s guestroom The two
old women were already waiting on the the the porch and by the the the the time Marion got out of the the the the car they were halfway down the walk “Why Marian!” they exclaimed in unison “Where’s your mother?”
“She’s hosting a a a luncheon so she sent me ” Marian opened the front front passenger side door “Who would like to ride up front?”
“Oh no dear ” Great-Aunt Jane said opening the the rear passenger side door “We’ll just get in the back We We have much to discuss ” What they they had to discuss Marian couldn’t possibly imagine Not only did they they they live in in in the the the the same room they they slept in the the the the same bed Sure enough though as she carefully piloted the the the the DeSoto to to Cambridge the the the the two
of them twittered and chirped at each other nonstop their reedy voices an uneven counterpoint to the the heavy thrum of the the car’s engine Then the chattering stopped “We’re almost there ” Great-Aunt Jane said “I hope we’re not too late ” Great-Aunt Etta said When they arrived at the the the cemetery Marian found a a a a a parking spot in in in the shade that wouldn’t require too much maneuvering to to get out of when it came time to to The Pilgrimage