The Phantom Limbs of the Rollow Sisters (23 page)

“It’s not even nearly noon,” Mabel said, taking a drink, then handing the bottle back.

“That’s okay,” Lily said. “It’s just a dessert wine.”

They passed the wine back and forth and looked off across the land. Lily thought she could see her matrimonial butterfly and its dotted-line path as it flew above the neighbor’s field of cut straw and toward the condemned grain elevator at the edge of town. Lily and Mabel drank much of the wine quickly, and Lily, though not drunk, could feel the warmth of the wine at her temples and in her throat.

“Is this wine from the nuns?” Mabel said.

“Yes,” Lily said, and she decided she’d never tell Mabel what their wicked stepsister had said. For Mabel, the suicide could stay the act of a lone gunman, with no witnesses. “I think Mom would’ve liked you better,” Lily said. “You’re more quiet. And you don’t cuss so much.”

“I cuss a lot,” Mabel said.

“Not really,” Lily said.

“Yeah,” Mabel said. “I sure do. I’m a real salty bastard.” Lily and Mabel both giggled, linking arms like old-lady confidantes.

“I called her a piece-of-shit cunt,” Lily confessed in a whisper, and Mabel’s wide-mouth shock and shriek of laughter was so satisfying to Lily that she leaned over and bit Mabel lightly on the shoulder.

“I could help you get the shop back together, Mabel,” Lily said.

“I don’t think you’d make such a great antiques salesman,” Mabel said. “You couldn’t sell snatch on a navy ship.” Lily could not believe how funny that was, and she fell forward to bury her laughter and gasps into Mabel’s stomach. The bottle fell from their hands, rolling down the slope of the roof. Lily and Mabel grabbed for the bottle, crawling quickly to the edge to see it drop to the ground, amazingly, without spilling a drop. The bottle landed with a thump without breaking, the little bit of sherry just an inch from the lip. Leaning over the edge beside Mabel, Lily felt the spin of vertigo, the clouds dipping and lifting in her sight. She still laughed as she grabbed hold of Mabel’s arm, steadying herself. She felt as if the house was tipping slowly forward to gently tumble her and her sister into the tall, soft grass gone to seed.