“Vada told me, she’s a good girl,” Marguerite said placidly. Lee’s rage washed over her like a light summer shower. She was unloading mismatched dishes onto the counter with the speed of a blackjack dealer. Marina was looking at her with outright amazement. The playhouse sat on the floor, next to June’s baby blanket. June kicked her legs and ignored it. Of course she ignored it. What’s a four-month-old going to do with a playhouse?
“Ma, you have to leave us alone! You have to stop bringing things! I can take care of my family!”
Marina added her two cents’ worth: “Mamochka, Lee say no.”
Marguerite laughed merrily. “‘Lee say no, Lee say no.’ Honey, Lee always say no, this little man been doin it all his life and it doesn’t mean a thing. Ma takes care of him.” She pinched his cheek, the way a mother would pinch the cheek of a six-year-old after he has done something naughty but undeniably cute. If Marina had tried that, I’m sure Lee would have knocked her block off.
At some point the jump-rope girls had drifted onto the bald excuse for a lawn. They watched the argument as attentively as Globe groundlings checking out the newest Shakespeare offering in the standing-room section. Only in the play we were watching, the shrew was going to come out on top.
“What did she make you for dinner, honey? Was it something good?”
“We had stew. Zharkoye. That guy Gregory sent some coupons for the ShopRite.” His mouth worked. Marguerite waited. “Did you want some, Ma?”
“ Zharkoye pretty okay, Mamochka,” Marina said with a hopeful smile.
“No, I couldn’t eat anything like that,” Marguerite said.
“Hell, Ma, you don’t even know what it is!”
It was as if he hadn’t spoken. “It would upset my stomach. Besides, I don’t want to be on a city bus after eight o’clock. There are too many drunk men on them after eight o’clock. Lee, honey, you need to fix that step before someone breaks a leg.”
He muttered something, but Marguerite’s attention had moved elsewhere. She swooped down like a hawk on a fieldmouse and grabbed June. With my binoculars, the baby’s startled expression was unmistakable.
“How’s my little CUTIE tonight? How’s my DEAR ONE? How’s my little DEVUSHKA?”
Her little devushka, scared shitless, began to scream her head off.
Lee made a move to take the baby. Marguerite’s red lips peeled back from her teeth in what could have been a grin, but only if you wanted to be charitable. It looked more like a snarl to me. It must have to her son, too, because he stepped back. Marina was biting her lip, her eyes wide with dismay.
“Oooo, Junie! Junie-Moonie-SPOONIE!”
Marguerite marched back and forth across the threadbare green carpet, ignoring June’s increasingly distressed wails just as she had ignored Lee’s anger. Was she actually feeding on those wails? It looked that way to me. After awhile, Marina could bear it no longer. She got up and went to Marguerite, who steamed away from her, holding the baby to her breasts. Even from across the street I could imagine the sound of her big white nurse’s shoes: clud-clump-clud. Marina followed her. Marguerite, perhaps feeling her point was made, at last surrendered the baby. She pointed at Lee, then spoke to Marina in her loud English instructor’s voice.
“He gained weight… when you were staying with me… because I fixed him… all the things he LIKES… but he’s still TOO… DAMN… SKINNY!”
Marina was looking at her over the top of the baby’s head, her pretty eyes wide. Marguerite rolled her own, either in impatience or outright disgust, and put her face down to Marina’s. The Leaning Lamp of Pisa was turned on, and the light skated across the lenses of Marguerite’s cat’s-eye glasses.
“FIX HIM… WHAT HE’LL EAT! NO… SOURED… CREAM! NO.. . YOGRIT! HE’S… TOO… SKINNY!”
“Skeeny,” Marina said doubtfully. Safe in her mother’s arms, June’s weeping was winding down to watery hiccups.
“Yes!” Marguerite said. Then she whirled to Lee. “Fix that step!”
With that she left, only pausing to put a large smack on her granddaughter’s head. When she walked back toward the bus stop, she was smiling. She looked younger.
On the morning after Marguerite brought the playhouse, I was up at six. I went to the drawn drapes and peeked out through the crack without even thinking about it-spying on the house across the street had become a habit. Marina was sitting in one of the lawn chairs, smoking a cigarette. She was wearing pink rayon pajamas that were far too big for her. She had a new black eye, and there were spots of blood on the pajama shirt. She smoked slowly, inhaling deeply and staring out at nothing.
After awhile she went back inside and made breakfast. Pretty soon Lee came out and ate it. He didn’t look at her. He read a book.
