Perfect Girl - Weebly

“With the truth?”
“The truth?” I don’t need to see my aunt Marty to know
that she’s turned around and is flexing her feline claws. “You
want the truth, Fay? Yes, it’s true that I offered to take
Ruthie three years ago. You’d lost your job, and Richard and
I thought we could help. But when you said no, we never
brought it up again.”
My breath is shallow. My head is spinning.
“Look at yourself,” Aunt Marty says. “In your pajamas
at nine o’clock. You’d think you lived in a nursing home!”
Mr. Arthur, I notice, is also dressed for bed.
Aunt Marty’s shopping bags fall to the floor in a loud
thwump. “You want truth? I’ll give you truth. You can’t
stand the fact that I got out of here, and you stayed. I made
something of my life, and you never left home. That’s what’s
eating you alive. You’re not afraid I’ll steal Ruthie, you’re
afraid she’ll want to be with me more than you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Mom says.
“Is it? Look at your life, Fay. You’ve hidden in this
house, wrapped it around yourself like a tattered robe.
You could have created a happy life anywhere. Instead,
you chose to become an old woman in Odessa. A bitter,
suspicious old hag. Is that the example you want to set for
your daughter? Do you think that’s a role model she
respects?”
Aunt Marty pauses. I hear nothing but Mr. Arthur’s
mouth-breathing.
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