She took out the take-out menu we had from the Fortune Cookie restaurant, and for the next few minutes, we debated what we should get and how much we should order.
"Maybe that's too much. Oh. I guess I can eat leftovers for lunch," Mama concluded.
Her eyes kept swinging toward the wall clock. We had yet to hear the garage door go up and Daddy drive in. I could see she was growing increasingly nervous.
"I'd better call the restaurant," she decided. "It takes a while, and he'll be disappointed if he has to wait too long to eat."
Brenda and I looked at each other, both of us thinking the same thing. Who cares if he is
disappointed? What about disappointment in him? Unfortunately, we were growing accustomed to Daddy's being late. Daddy not calling. Daddy not thinking first about us, as he used to. However, that didn't make it any easier to accept. To pass the time and not think about it. I returned to my room and my homework. Brenda did the same. A little more than an hour later. we heard the doorbell. We both came out of our rooms and went to the front door to see Mama accept the Chinese take-out and pay the bill.
She brought it into the kitchen, set it on the table, stared at it a moment, and then pressed her lips together and sucked in air through her nose.
"He's still not home, and he still hasn't called. Mama?" Brenda asked.
"No. I'll just get everything a bit warmer." she said, nodding at the bag of food. "I'm sure he'll be here any minute. Set the table, girls."
Without uttering a sound. Brenda and I did what she asked. Daddy was now hours past the time he usually came home. He was even past his record for being late. Mama told us to sit, and she brought in the food. Daddy's dish was left over a small fire to keep warm. We ate, but we were all listening so hard for any sign of his arrival that no one dared talk much. Brenda tried to keep our minds off things by describing the game, her practice, their chances to win the first-place title. Mama listened politely. but it was easy to see she was looking through us both, the words merely brushing over her ears.
Finally, the phone rang. We all jumped inside our own bodies. It was as if a bomb had gone off. Mama leaped out of her seat and went to the phone in the kitchen. Brenda and I rose and went to the passthrough window to listen.
"But why didn't you call me. Matt? I've been worried sick about you."
She listened some more.
"I don't understand." she said, her voice finally permitting some anger to show. "You could have had John call for you. You've done that before. I don't understand." she repeated. "The three of us are just sitting here like idiots waiting on pins and needles. I don't care. Do what you want," she concluded, and hung up abruptly.
She must not have realized we were standing by the pass- through window. We saw her press her forehead against the wall phone, and then we saw her shoulders start to shake.
"Mama!" I cried, and ran around first to hug her.
Brenda followed, her aims folded, and stood by as Mama turned to embrace me.
"What did he say. Mama?" Brenda asked, her face glowing with rage.
"He said...," she began between deep breaths and sobs. "He said they had a crisis with a case, and he went to Memphis to meet with attorneys. He said the meetings are continuing, and he will remain in Memphis overnight for a hearing in the morning in federal court about some bankruptcy motion or another,"
"Why didn't he call to tell us?" Brenda followed.
"He said he didn't realize he would be so involved so long."
"Doesn't he still have a watch on his wrist?" Brenda pursued.
Mama nodded and then continued to cry. "Go finish your dinner," she said waving us away.
"I'm not hungry."
"Me, neither." I said.
"I'll help put it away," Brenda told her, and urged me to leave Mama be.
"Why is he being so inconsiderate?" I asked Brenda when we returned to the dining room.
"I don't know, and I don't care. When I see him. I'm going to let him know it, too,' she said.
After we cleaned up. I tried to keep Mama company, but she shooed me away and told me to do my homework. She didn't watch television or do any of the things she usually did in the evening. Instead, she went to bed early herself. It broke my heart to see her bedroom door close. I knew she was crying and feeling miserable. Now, more than ever, I hoped and prayed Uncle Palaver would bring some of his magical rainbows into our lives.
Mama was up before Brenda and me in the morning. It wasn't hard to see she had cried herself to sleep, but she fought back depression and tears and talked only about Uncle Palaver's impending arrival.