”I see,” I said as I quickly turned back to my mashed potatoes. I said a silent prayer for a peaceful meal. Maybe my prayers were answered. Barbara was very quiet while we ate. When the meal was over, she wanted to take care of the cleanup. I protested and suggested she and Stanley drive back to her motel room and get her stuff. I asked her to stay with us instead.
Barbara was a hard sell, but she finally agreed. While she and Stanley were gone, I tackled the kitchen. It felt good to put the dishes and pots in the dishwasher, to straighten up the counter, and wipe down the stove. Being orderly helps me feel a sense of safety when there are radical changes in the works.
Eight
WHEN I CAME down to breakfast the next morning, I heard voices in the kitchen and smelled cinnamon rolls. I soon found out that Barbara had been baking.
She gave me a happy smile when I walked into the kitchen. “I know you’re watching your sugar, Gloria, so I cut the amount in half and made sure to be moderate when adding cinnamon.”
Stanley came over and kissed me. “I tried a couple of the rolls, and they’re delicious.”
I looked at Barbara. “I haven’t had a cinnamon bun in quite a while. Thank you for making them.”
Stanley gestured towards a chair. “Sit down, and I’ll make you some tea to go with the bun.”
Before I could do as he suggested, there was a loud knock on the front door. Ben had followed me downstairs and went running to the foyer, barking. He considers himself the official greeter, but we’re trying to teach him to be a quieter greeter.
“I wonder who that could be,” I said.
Stanley quickly followed Ben to the door. “I might have an idea,” he called back to us.
Barbara put her hands around herself in a tight hug. “Oh my, I hope it’s not who I think it is.”
Their comments helped me to figure out who our visitor probably was. My hunch was confirmed when I heard Stanley’s greeting.
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
“What do you think I’m doing, Stanley? I’m finding out what’s gotten into your mother.”
Barbara hurried over to me. “I’m so sorry that I’ve brought my troubles into your beautiful home, especially now with the baby. But I’ll be gone very soon,” she said as she ran out of the kitchen.
I was still in my robe and nightgown, so I stayed where I was. However, it was easy to hear Stan Sr.’s reaction to seeing Barbara as she rushed past him and continued up the stairs without saying a word.
“Barbara! Where are you going?” Stan Sr. yelled. “Don’t you want to talk about what you’re doing here?”
There was no reply from Stanley’s mother, only some murmuring from Stan Sr. and some comments by my Stanley. I didn’t know what to expect after that, but very little time passed before Barbara’s footsteps and the squeak on the stairs were heard again. I peeked out of the kitchen in time to see Barbara coming down the stairs. She had her bag in her hand so I figured she’d returned to her room and gathered up her things.
Her movements looked almost panicky as she silently hurried past her husband and son. In a flash, the front door flew open, and she was gone. Stan Sr. and son Stanley both remained motionless, staring at the door. That’s when I made my move, hurrying out of the kitchen. I wanted to get dressed and be prepared for what happened next.
Once in my bedroom, lots went through my mind as I slipped into a sweater and slacks. I knew Stanley’s parents disagreed on certain subjects, but they stayed together in spite of it all. It seemed a shame that they might go their separate ways forever.
As I was going over events, Stanley came into the room. I’d never seen him look so pale except for the time when he’d been very sick. “What’s going on?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, Gloria,” Stanley said, taking my hands in his. “I never expected either of my parents to act this way.”
I shared what his mother said about not wanting to disrupt our home with her problems. “She looked so upset when she left the kitchen.”
“My father is in quite a state too. He’s always depended on my mother being there through thick and thin.”
“Did he go after her?” I asked.
“No, after the way she looked at him, he doesn’t seem to know how to respond.” Stanley squeezed my hands a little tighter. “At the moment, he’s in the living room. I tried to talk to him, but he’s not saying anything.”
“He probably needs time,” I offered.
Stanley let out a heavy breath. “It’s hard to see my dad like this. He’s always projected an invincible spirit, but not anymore. After Mom slammed the door in his face, he looks like someone beat him up.”
I nodded knowingly. “Change can do that to a person. Last year, I felt like all my safety lines had been cut, and I was adrift in a sea of pain.”
