March 11, 2012 § 2 Comments
I started a stack of “Luther and Lorraine” photos. As I shuffled through the small mountain of papers, I found a third picture of Not-Umber-Eyes. She looked even younger than she had appeared in the snapshot with her dog, and stood on a chair next to a plump young woman who must have been her mother. I turned the picture over, and read “Vera and Olly Belle.”
“Is your name Olly Belle?” I asked.
If a sepia portrait can turn scarlet, then she did.
“Oleander,” she mumbled.
“And Vera is your mother?”
She nodded and moved a bit closer to her mother.
Not wanting her to feel embarrassed, I said “Oleander is a lovely name.”
As I placed the portrait in my new “Oleander and Vera” pile, I heard her say, “My father calls me ‘Jimmy’.”