I don’t understand my mother’s connection to Susan. I never have. It’s the face-time thing. They haven’t had that much. Or have I forgotten?

“I never laughed so hard as I did when Susan told me about her trip to Ireland. With Diane, I believe.” Pause “So smart.”

Since Jimmy died I haven’t talked to Helen without her asking, “How is Susan?” I never really know how to answer that, but I do my best. Helen called me somewhere between deer carcasses in Ohio and before she asked me how I was, she said, “How is Susan?’ The dimmer switch in my head finally turned and I replied, “You should call her.”

When I arrived in Evansville the next day, my mother asked for Susan’s number. She called, and from the other room, I heard her talking. Her voice continued long past what an answering machine would hold.

Today, we sat down for lunch and as I did during my last visit, I read stories. Not those gut-grabbers Chris sent for my last visit, but two from the blog. We began with Chris’s “A Day in the Life,” and as usual I had to pause every three words or so while The Active Mind responded to the chimney saga.

After I finished I ask,

“You read Susan’s story, right?’

“Susan’s story?”

“About Jimmy and the car?”

“I haven’t. You should go get it now.” Meaning, jump up from the table and print it out.

I returned and began, “On important things, Jim and Susan were almost always on the same page and……”

My mother waited.

I breathed deeply and plunged in again.

“Okay, we’re going to start again. ‘On important things.’ “……

I couldn’t continue. I thought, finally tears, but why now, why not alone in my truck?

Helen verbally held my hand from across the table, “Oh, I know. I can barely think about it too. You don’t have to read it.”

“Maybe you should read. It’s really easy if you don’t read it aloud.” I hand her the printed pages but I see she doesn’t have her glasses on. ” Can you read it?”

“With this large print, I should say so.”

Helen holds the pages in her left hand, nearly closes her right eye and begins reading. After the first few paragraphs, she stops and asks, “What’s FB?”

“That’s FierceBaby.”

“Oh yeah, Susan’s baby picture, the one that reminds me of my Aunt Lydia. She told me to get iron up my back after I miscarried and she thought I was being too dramatic. And who is SB?”

“SB? Let me see the page. You mean SD, as in shinydome.”

I was glad she stumbled because I wanted another shot at reading the story. With iron up my back, I continued where she left off and together we laughed at the gun rack, the ribbon and especially, “You’ve passed rational.”