“Come in,” she said, smiling at Raymond. “Dad’ll be pleased to see you.”
She didn’t smile at me, which is the normal state of affairs in most encounters I have with other people.
We entered, Raymond wiping his feet elaborately on the doormat. I copied him.
It was truly an unforeseen day when I would look to Raymond for social guidance.
He handed over the flowers and the clinking bag, and Laura looked pleased.
I realized that, despite her entreaty at the hospital, I ought to have brought something to hand over too.
I was going to explain that she had told us not to, and I had simply done her the courtesy of respecting her wishes,
but before I could speak, Raymond blurted out, “These are from Eleanor and me.”
She peered into the carrier bagI fervently hoped it wasn’t Haribo and Pringles againand thanked us both. I nodded in acknowledgment.
She showed us into the living room, where Sammy and his family were seated.
Banal pop music was playing softly, and a low table was covered with little bowls of beige snacks.
Laura was wearing a dress, wrapped around her like black bandages, and teetered in heels with a two-inch platform.
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