Page 46 - WTP Vol. VIII#2

Independence Day (continued from preceding page)
ions when he called out to his son. He had intervened in the dispute without ascertaining facts or gauging personalities. His goal, Claudia knew, had not been fairness but merely the removal of an irritation to himself, like picking out a splinter.
The Corey baby woke up and began to cry. Claudia car- ried him from the playpen to the table. Sitting down between Louise and her own mother, Claudia jiggled the baby on her lap until he stopped fussing. When he began reaching out to the littered table, Claudia pushed away a wine glass and a knife and a bowl of peanuts. She left two spoons and a roll within his grasp.
“Hello, baby,” crooned Louise, tickling his cheek.
They all called him “baby,” as if he had no name, as if he belonged to all of them. Claudia was old enough to recall that each infant in the two families had been known simply as “baby” until he or she began to talk or was supplanted by a new baby.
“Desire Under the Elms is going to be on t-v Wednes- day night. Why don’t you come over and watch it with us?” Claudia’s mother was saying to the Coreys.
“That’s my late night at the hospital,” said Jim.
“I thought you were there Thursdays,” said Macy.
“Schedule changed a couple of weeks ago.”
“That’s an O’Neill play, isn’t it?” asked Stephen.
“I’ll come over if I can get a sitter,” said Louise.
“Oh, Claudia can sleep at your place and mind the kids,” Macy said. “Is that okay, Claude?”
“Sure, I guess so.”
“Baby’s a little rank, isn’t he?” Stephen said.
“Baby, you’ve just been insulted,” Louise said, laugh- ing in her usual quick, hearty way. She stood up and took him from Claudia. “I’ll take him in and change him,” she said. “Shall I bring out the cake?”
“Yes, better do,” answered Macy with a glance at the sky. At twilight they were to walk to the park for the fireworks display.
“Stephen,” she said, “why don’t you go in and make some coffee? And bring out those small paper plates and some clean forks.”
“Yes, ma’am.” 39
He kissed Macy on the top of her head when he passed behind her on his way to the house.
With the departure of Claudia’s father, Louise, and the baby, a lull descended upon the table. Jim was looking around the yard. Every stray movement held his interest briefly: the Steeles’ collie circling to settle himself for a nap in the slanting early evening sun; Claudia’s sister and Dan playing tag at the far end
of the wide lawn with the three Collins boys from across the street; a couple of jays pecking at food scraps on the quilt.
Claudia’s mother, on the other hand, watched only Jim. Of the two of them, she appeared the more animated, despite her stillness.”How’s the hand?” she said.
Jim regarded his palm with mild surprise, as if he had just noticed the strip of gauze wrapped around it. “Oh, fine,” he said. “Probably don’t even need this anymore.” He tugged at the bandage.
Macy slapped at his wrist to stop him from unravel- ling the gauze.
“Doctors do make the worst patients, don’t they?” she said.
“Depends on the nurse.”
He grinned, so Claudia knew it was some kind of joke. She didn’t get it, but her mother didn’t seem to get it either because she didn’t smile.
“Louise said you have a new nurse at the office. What’s she like?” Macy said.
“She’s all right. Come by for lunch Friday and I’ll introduce you.”
“I can’t Friday.”
Jim shrugged and began another reconnaissance of the yard. This time Macy, too, looked around, gener- ally following the path of Jim’s stare, except that she kept glancing at the kitchen door and Jim never did.
“Claudia,” Macy said, “stop fiddling with those spoons and go play.”
Claudia put down the spoons. She’d been sliding them around, tracing out the swirling pattern woven into the tablecloth.
“Go on now,” Macy repeated, frowning.
People always said that Claudia and her mother looked most alike when they were frowning. This