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“I got Italian wedding soup. It’s from a can, but it sure doesn’t taste like it. Your father and I loved a bowl of soup with saltines. We'd eat in front of the television and watch Jeopardy.”
“It’s not the same without Alex Trebek, but we can watch anyway if you like,” Sophie said.
“No, I’ll get all misty. Let’s go to the kitchen table, and you can tell me what you’re up to. I hate that you're single, almost fifty, and working at a bar.”
“Mother, I’m forty-nine and helping my friend out at his wine bar. The establishment was named one of the top fifty places in the five Burroughs to get a glass of wine. I’m single, and so are you because your husband died, and mine slept around. I have friends and an amazing son, so I think I’m pretty lucky.”
"Are you ever going to stop disagreeing with everything I say? I'd prefer it if you just rolled your eyes and said nothing,” Vera said.
“I bet that’s what Roger would have liked, too. He could have saved a lot of money if we stayed married, and he could have just continued to cavort with Cindy and others.”
“I hope you weren’t just comparing me to Roger Randolph.”
“No. I love you and always will.” Sophie placed her hand on her mother’s shoulder. It was past time to change the subject. “How are things financially for you? I know you met with the accountant last week.”
“He’s as curious as I am about why your father’s bank account was less than expected. We saw one big mistake on his part. He didn’t fully invest in his 401K, and the downturn of 2008 was bad. He never really recovered from that, and I guess he was too embarrassed to say anything,” Vera said. She slurped her soup and crushed her saltines. “Our accountant said he rarely saw Bill in the past few years. They’d have appointments, and your father would cancel.”
“That’s out of character for him,” Sophie said.
“I agree.”
“Daddy was so thrifty, always comparison shopping like you said, and it surprises me. I guess he probably figured he’d have years to make up the money. Who predicts they’re going to die when they go out to hit the golf ball around?”
“I can’t say. Here we are, and the past is the past. It’s just me and Will now,” Vera said. She had the dog in her lap, and she let it lick off her spoon. It was enough to make Sophie gag, but she looked away instead.
“What are you deciding between as far as dog food goes?” Sophie asked. It was a safe topic and one that was on the agenda.
“Didn’t you read my email?” her mother asked.
“I didn’t have time to read it, so just tell me.”
“I was up late last night getting it just so. I researched the organic delivery service and the kind I buy at the market,” Vera said. It was clear her feelings were hurt.
“I don’t think in the long run that the brand at the market will do any harm. I’m sure you aren’t buying generic or the store brand, so it’s probably fine. The organic delivery service is counting on people to feel guilty for not getting their animal the very best. A dog isn’t a person.” Sophie regretted saying the last part because, to her mother, Will was as good as any person.
“You’ll be surprised to hear that I came to the same conclusion. I’m old, but I have nothing to do but tool around on the internet. It’s a great source of information.”
“I know. I said something similar to Malcolm once, and he looked at me like I had two heads. He doesn’t know about life without the web. It’s like someone commenting on how convenient electricity is,” Sophie said. “Anyway, it’s nice to be in agreement for a change.”
“Indeed, it is. Do you not like the soup?” her mother asked. “It was one of your father’s favorites.”
“It smells great, but I’m not too hungry. Nina and I went to the Bad Penny Café for cinnamon rolls. We couldn’t find the willpower to stop at just one,” Sophie said. “Nina says hello, by the way.”
“Send Nina my best. I’m disappointed that you didn’t bring a cinnamon roll home for me.” Vera laughed, and it was nice for Sophie to see. Since the death of her husband, Vera had no problem griping, but she seldom found joy.
“Next time I will or better yet, we can make plans to go to the café together. I’m afraid you don’t get out enough.”
"I have my outings to the market, bank, and salon. I also have my friends from the garden club, and I keep in touch with the old neighbors from Brooklyn,” Vera said. “I’m lonely for your father, but otherwise, I’m used to it.”
Her mother had a brother, and he had no kids. He was wrapped up in his own life, and the two of them weren't close. Sophie wouldn't have to worry so much if she had at least one sibling and some aunts and uncles. It would give her someone to share the burden with. People sometimes asked if it bothered her having such a small family. Sophie always responded the same way. It was all she'd ever known. If she were honest, she'd respond yes, it bothered her. It was lonely at times.
“Those people were wonderful when Daddy died. I wish I remembered their names because I’m over there now and then. I’d hate to see someone who was so kind and not remember what to call them,” Sophie said. “Was one of them named Lisa?”
She looked at her mother for a reaction in her effort to find out who her father was in the picture with. There was no reaction.
“No. Bonnie and Gwen are the ones who organized the food for the celebration of life reception. Leticia is probably who you’re thinking about. She dealt with the guest book.”
“I don’t know where I got Lisa. I don’t even know anybody with that name. Do you?” Sophie asked.
