That was the moment Robin picked to wander in. When he saw us, he did a speedy U-turn, glancing back over his shoulder. My mother told him with her eyes to vamoose and leave the kitchen to us. What I did then was a surprise to me as much as to anyone. I went over and dragged Robin in and propped him up between us as if he were a prize stuffed bear I had won. The astonishment on their faces was gratifying, and so was the sturdy feel of his forearm, which in truth was only pretending to resist.

“Far be it from me,” said Robin, “to intrude on a female moment.”

“You’re not intruding. Is he, Mom?”

“Not at all.” My mother broke away and went to the drawer by the sink where household items end up that have nowhere else to go. Eyes down, she began flinging things out. Screwdrivers, broken earrings, a carrot-shaped magnet, a flashlight with no lens, rubber bands, candle ends, fuses, and pens tumbled together and came to a stop as though the kitchen floor had always been their true resting place.

As if hypnotized, Robin and I watched her stretch the excavated Band-Aid, a blue Disney one, across her hand, which was not even bleeding anymore, furiously blinking away tears before they spilled down or were noticed. One of the things I hated most in the world was to see my mother cry. I longed to rush over and win her back. It was a miracle I stayed put.

Even if Robin had not come out of his trance to tenderly gather up the objects and check the floor for shards; even if he had not made cooing sounds and offered her one of his short-man hugs, causing her to turn and hide her face in his shirt, I would have stayed put. Because I had someone with me now, or that’s the way it felt, and together we were going around silently closing windows and shutting doors and gates I didn’t even know could be shut and closed. Whether my mother saw it this way or not, the fact was, keeping a secret or two would be better for both of us in the long run. I have to think about the long run now.

PART II

Eve

16

The day after Norma rowed over to us, a storm moved in. I went down to the dock every morning as usual, even in the rain, but she did not appear again. Three days later, Robin and I drove home.