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Scrape the plate over the garbage, rinse it in the sink. I don't know why I cook broccoli. Frank won't eat it. There goes another siren. Enough leftover potroast for lunch tomorrow. I need a new tupperware. This one has a cracked lid. She's forty-three minutes late for supper. I'm sure she's all right. Please let her be all right.
Thank God, there's the screen door.
"Hi, mom, sorry I'm late. Got any leftovers?"
Scrape the next plate. "Where were you all this time? We heard the sirens and we were worried. I called Esther Moyer, but her son Bucky wasn't driving the fire truck tonight so she didn't know what the emergency was." Turn around, take a look. Father-Son-and-Holy-Ghost! "Your eyebrows! What happened to your eyebrows? You had eyebrows when I saw you this morning."
"It's nothing. I just had a little trouble with a skip. Magical Manny was performing at a birthday gig. He thought if he disappeared in a ball of flame I couldn't drag him in. Things got a little out of hand."
"You tried to catch a criminal at a birthday party? Stephanie, Stephanie. What about the poor birthday child?" When you were little your birthday parties never went smoothly either. Valerie wanted a Barbie party. You wanted a trampoline. Ten kids bouncing as high as the garage roof. I thought you'd all break your necks. But you got that look on your face, like someone had given you a million dollars. That look was worth the stomach ache.
"Mom, the birthday girl was sixty-two. She'll get over it."
I bet you caught Magical Manny, though. You always manage whatever you set out to do. It's the Mazur stubbornness. "What happened to the magician?"
"Manny is cooling his magical heels in the pokey. He swore he'd break out. The betting pool is giving him one in three odds."
Fireballs and magicians. What next? Every time I hear those damn sirens I wonder if this is it. I wonder if the phone will ring and someone will tell me you've been killed. The day that happens, I'll pull the phone out of the wall. I'll never answer it again. "Rose Molinowsky says they're hiring at the pork roll factory. You could have a steady income and health insurance. Regular hours. Wouldn't it be nice not to work on the weekends?" Don't roll your eyes at me, young lady.
"I can't stay. I have to visit the cell phone store before it closes."
"What happened to your cell phone?" We never had such things, and you go through them like potato chips. Still, I'm glad you can call for help when you need it. I wish you didn't need to.
"Burned up in the fireball."
Holy Mother, give me strength. "I'll fix a bag of leftovers to take with you." Pot roast and potatoes and a container of gravy. Some broccoli. You probably won't eat it either. Oatmeal raisin cookies. When you were little I could fix everything with a cookie. Scraped knees, school bullies. You'd come home and tell me about your day, and a cookie and a glass of milk would make it all better. I don't know what to do for you these days.
"Thanks, Mom. Is Dad here? I could use a ride. My, um, car needs a tuneup."
I don't want to know. "He's in the living room." I asked Father Gabriel what I should do. He said, pray to St. Michael to send her a guardian angel. I prayed for a whole troop. One pair of eyes was never enough to keep track of you. And you know, St. Michael came through. Sometimes I see the angels following you around. Mostly they stay out of sight, but I always know they're there. Funny. I didn't think they'd look like commandos.
"Is that someone at the back door?"
Father-Son-and-Holy-Ghost! It's a crazed killer come to get you. Where's the butcher knife? Where's your father's service revolver?
"It's okay, Mom. It's just one of Ranger's men."
"Well don't leave him standing out there. Open the door." I knew that.
"Evening, ma'am. Ms. Plum. I didn't want to alarm the neighbors, and I saw your kitchen light on, so I thought I'd come around to the back."
He's almost too tall to walk through the door. Now that's a guardian angel. Nice haircut, too. He needs someone to iron the crease in his trousers. Such a sharp-looking young man shouldn't have rumpled clothes.
"Ms. Plum, here's your car keys. You left them at the office. Oh, and here's your cell phone, too."
"Thanks. Please call me Stephanie."
"John Beck. We sort of met before, when you brought in Jamil Rodriguez."
"I remember. Thanks for the help, John."
"Anytime."
Where are your manners? When someone does you a favor, you don't send him away empty-handed. "Have you had supper, Mr. Beck? I know you security people don't have time for a sit-down meal. Take some leftovers with you."
"Thank you, ma'am. That sure smells good."
"Pot roast and potatoes with broccoli. And my special oatmeal raisin cookies. Here's a plastic knife and fork so you have something to eat with."
"I love broccoli. My partner, Greg Sanchez, doesn't like it. I might not share the pot roast with him either."
What a handsome smile. "Good night, Mr. Beck." And so polite.
"Mom, those were my leftovers!"
"If you want to eat, you should come to the table on time." Angels have to eat, too, you know.
"I guess I don't need a ride from Dad after all. I'll see you later, Mom."
"Are you going back to Joe Morelli's house?" I wish you'd stop living in sin and get married.
"I'm not staying at Joe's house. I'm staying with a friend."
A friend, my fanny. If you were staying with a girlfriend you'd tell me. You're living with that Ranger fellow. He's giving you cars and cell phones. You dress like him. You even smell like him.
Do you love him, this man with the long hair and the fancy cars? He's sexy as all get out, but what are his intentions? You kids think you have these grand passions. You don't know what passion is until you've practiced with the same man for thirty-five years.
I want you to know what it's like to have someone who will stick with you through everything. Through job layoffs and 3am feedings and in-laws. I want you to have a banquet, not the leftovers from somebody else's life.
"You look tired, Mom. You should get some more sleep."
"I'm fine." This isn't tired. Tired was when you were six. You would get up at night and sleepwalk onto the porch roof. I slept on a chair in your room for a week.
I am tired of being scared, though. Every time you're here I wonder if it's the last time I'll see you.
"Come to dinner tomorrow night. I'm making roast chicken with stuffing." You could bring your Ranger. I'd feel better if I knew more about him.
"I'll see you tomorrow at six. Night, mom."
"Goodnight, Stephanie. Drive carefully."
St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.
Take care of my little girl.