November came quickly, and with it a bone chilling cold like Winnipeg hadn’t suffered for some time. Jean found herself in Marjory’s living room, waiting for the tea to steep and for Marjory’s return. She herself would have preferred a dark cup of coffee. That would surely warm her after the long bus ride into St-Vital.
She wasn’t used to these ticky-tacky houses lined up side by side, their numbers barely distinguishable to Jean’s eyes as she slowly made her way one house at a time before coming upon the street number she was seeking.
Here we are, Marjory said as she entered the room with a plate of home-baked cookies in hand. You take sugar, if I recall?
Yes, please, Jean replied, but just a little. I’m trying to lose weight –
Oh, but why? You look just fine, Jean. Just fine.
Was Jean being too sensitive, or was that second ‘fine’ one too many? Is it just you and Michael in this big house?
Yes. Well, but, I keep Peter’s room the way he left it two years ago when he suddenly decided to move out. Just in case, you know?
In case of what? asked Jean.
Oh, well, in case he decides to come back home.
Jean cleared her throat before asking her why Peter would want to come back home and then realized it had probably come out the wrong way. But Marjory was already speaking . . .
Well, you just never know, do you? And it's a mother’s job to make sure that her child always feel welcome when he does return, don’t you think? But enough about that, she said before Jean had a chance to reply, I want to hear all about Adam!
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