I shove his ultimatum aside and think for myself. The revelations aren’t flattering. My sharp tongue is a defense, my oddities are based not in rebellion but fear, and I’ve allowed my mother to live beneath my skin. I’ve been the woman I wanted her to be. Raise your kids. And with the same shock that came when I realized Miss Lewis didn’t know about my degree, I realize that the town has changed. The printing press closed down years ago. The Sunbeam girl vanished with central air. Jane Lee Veach lives in Wichita, and Lena was put on heavy-duty pills. I’ve been caught in a memory maze. No one cares about my past, they haven’t for years. I’ve made a nervous wreck of my son; he’s so fixated on buses I’ve had to use the fly swatter on both girls to keep them from making fun of him. 

            We drive out to Love-the-Maples and walk through the house Royce says is a steal. Nathan, who’s been a shadow behind me, breaks away and runs outdoors. I watch him go up the hill. He begins spinning with his arms outstretched like the weathervane that was atop our dilapidated garage. No, not like a weathervane, like a child, a normal, healthy boy.

            Royce is showing me the custom kitchen, pounding on the cabinet doors and saying something about real wood, not particle board, when I interrupt, “Let’s buy it.”

            “But I haven’t shown you the walk-out basement yet!” he says, sounding frustrated.

            “I don’t need to see it.”

            He leans against the counter and shakes his head. “Just like that?”

            “Just like that.”

            I give my fingers a snap.

            “I’ll never understand you,” he says, looking out the window where he sees Nathan on the hill. He jerks his head. “He’ll have to ride the bus, and don’t even think about following behind or driving him in.”

            Nathan has fallen but has picked himself up again. He starts another spin. 

            ‘He’ll be fine,” I say, and I sound like I believe it. 

            I know the girls will be more than fine. They’re already upstairs arguing over which room is the best and who’s going to get it.            

I can’t bury my mother because I can’t find her, so I’ll leave that silver bottle just where it 

is.

Author’s note: This marks the end of Lorraine’s story, “Silver Bottle”. Next begins “This Will Never Stop” , in which her mother, Carmen Amber, reveals the reasons for her flight.

©Joan Heck Spilman. All rights reserved.