The Gumball Ring at the Bursar’s Window

The kitchen table

We got to Windsor at seven thirty that night. Emma drove her own car, and I followed in the truck. When we pulled in, I saw that the porch light was on, and there was another car in the driveway. My mother’s.

Emma looked at me. “Did you call her?”

“I called her at lunch,” I said. “I told her everything. I didn’t ask her to come. She just came.”

My mother, Marie Fritz, was sitting at Patrice’s kitchen table in the wobbly guest chair with a pan of something under foil in front of her. Patrice was across from her. Both of their eyes were red.

“Sit down, both of you,” my mother said. “It’s chicken and noodles. Patrice hasn’t eaten since Saturday.”

We sat. The boys were in the living room watching a cartoon about trucks. Sam came in once to show Emma that he had lost a tooth, and saw the ring on her hand, and stopped.

“That’s my ring,” he said, outraged. “That’s the girl ring from Floyd’s.”

“It is,” Emma said. She pulled him into her lap. “Caleb gave it to me. He asked me to marry him with it.”

Sam thought about this very seriously.

“Is it real?” he asked.

“It’s the most real ring I’ve ever had,” Emma said, and kissed the top of his fresh haircut.

Sam seemed satisfied. “Okay,” he said. “But I want a gumball next time,” and he went back to his trucks.

What my mother offered

“I’ve been sitting here with Patrice for two hours,” my mother said. “And I’ll tell you what we worked out. I keep the boys Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Patrice brings them to me in Sedalia at six. I feed them, I get them to bed, I get them to school in the morning.”

Patrice looked at her hands. “It’s too much to ask.”

“You didn’t ask,” my mother said. “I offered. That’s different.”

“It’s an hour round trip on gas.”

“Ron and I can split the driving on the mornings you’re wiped out,” my mother said. “Don’t worry about the gas.”

“And Thursday nights?” Emma asked.

“Thursday I already have figured out,” Patrice said quietly. “I talked to my supervisor this afternoon. I’m going to three nights. It’s less money, but I’ll be home. I’m going to take the pay cut and sleep.”

She looked up at Emma then, and her face did something I had never seen it do. It just let go.

“I should have done that in September,” she said. “I should have done a lot of things in September.”