“You did what?”

            “Cheated.” My mother was drumming her fingers, a slight smile on her face. “Yes, I did. Mrs. Jones would play the songs for my next lesson, and all I had to do was listen. Then, I’d come home and play the piece without using the music. She stopped playing for me when she caught on.” Briefly, Mother stopped drumming her fingers. “Oh, don’t look so horrified. I can read music, but I could have learned more back then.”

            “You don’t need to learn more now. You play beautifully as it is. You’ve just lost your confidence because you haven’t been back to church in . . .” The red spots on Grandma’s cheeks had receded, now they flared again. “Well, I can’t remember when. In fact, as soon as you give up this liquor habit, you won’t be bored. Liquor dulls the brain, and once you’ve quit drinking, you’ll find plenty of things to do in this town. You don’t need more education. You need a new house. Why don’t you buy in Harshbarger Heights where the Valentines and Veaches live? You’ve got the money. The kids are going to need more room.”

            “I’m not ready to move. I’ll buy when I’m ready. I want to go to school.”

            There was a silence, and for one glorious moment, I thought my mother had won. I wanted her to, although I’d never taken sides between them. But Grandma Lizzie was shrewd. The same woman who’d learned to drive a stick shift at forty might have changed in appearance, but her mind still worked the same. She had a trump card.

            “Who’s going to watch your kids.”

            “You.”

            “I would not.”

            “You’re here all the time, anyway.”

            “Not for hours and hours.”

            “Yes, you are.”

            Grandma ignored this. “Lorraine is no trouble, but those boys wear me out. I’m not as young as I used to be, and you’re fine just the way you are. Except,” she added, “for the liquor and the house.”

            Mother had stopped drumming the table and was now pinching her upper arms. 

            “Carmen, stop that.”

            “Make me,” Mother said, continuing to pinch herself, hard. After one pinch that reddened every bit of extra skin on both of her upper arms, she said, “I’ll get a baby sitter.”

            “A baby sitter!” Grandma Lizzie raised her voice so loudly that she disturbed Jarrell, who let out a whine from upstairs. “A baby sitter,” she hissed. “You never had a baby sitter. Neither have your kids.”

            “Maybe it’s time they did.”

            “Maybe it’s time you quit trying to get above your raising.” Her cheeks were on fire now. “You’ve got money, but you’re not thinking straight. You have all the education you need. You’ll never be replaced at the church, no matter if Andrea Ellis gets degrees out her ears. Forget what that teacher in Clovington said.”

            “You know good and well her name was Mrs. Jones. At one time, you thought Clovington was the place to be.”

            “I only took you to get decent lessons. Your lessons are over. Now, raise your kids.”

            That was the end of the conversation. Whatever my mother’s thoughts were, I’ll never know, because she didn’t answer, not even to say goodbye when Grandma Lizzie let herself out the side door. She sat at the table, drumming her fingers for so long that I gave up and went back to bed. Lying there, deprived of my Ovaltine, I realized how much my mother and I were alike, wanting things we couldn’t have. Raise your kids.Was that when she started resenting us? Was that when she looked for ways to leave?