Page 59 of Atmosphere

Even with Frances gone, Joan whispered as low as she could. “Why did you leave Frances outside by herself this morning?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You shut her outside and left.”

“You were picking her up.”

“She was alone outside by herself for more than a half hour.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you weren’t here on time. I assumed she’d only be there for a few minutes. And anyway, she’s fine, isn’t she?”

“Barbara, she’s seven years old.”

“I know how old my daughter is, thank you very much.”

“I’m just saying, maybe don’t lock her out. What if I hadn’t shown up?”

“I’d have been back in an hour. I just went to pick up Scott,” she said. “She’s a smart kid. She would have gone around to the backyard and played until we got here.”

“Barbara—”

“You consistently underestimate how smart and capable she is. You baby her.”

“I don’t baby her. I watch out for her.”

“Oh, screw you, Joan. Screw you. And don’t look at me like that.”

Joan was not sure how she was looking at her, but already the confusion was settling in.

Barbara often accused Joan ofthinkingthings, claiming that Joan didn’t even have to speak, because of how clear her disdain was from her body language.

And the fact was that yes, sometimes Joan worried that Barbara was careless. Sometimes Joan was concerned about Barbara’s inability to consider other people, to think things through from any perspective other than her own.

But Joan worked so hard to stay on Barbara’s side.

Still, Joan was often snapped at for things she’d never said, accused of taking positions she had not yet even committed to within her own mind.

Was Barbara being unfair? Or was Joan indeed judgmental? And maybe her sister was the only person close enough to confront her about it? Joan wasn’t sure, knew that she might not ever be sure.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Joan said finally.

“Yes, you are—you think I’m a bad mother.”

“No, I don’t.”

“But you don’t know the first thing about being someone’s mother, Joan.”

“I know that.”

“And certainly not how hard it is to do it by myself. With no one helping me.”

Joan nodded, unsure what to say to that.

“So mind your own business.”

Joan looked past Barbara to where Frances was watching TV and playing with two of her dolls. She was laughing. She was completely fine. Right?

“I’m sorry,” Joan said. “You’re right.”

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