Authors: Eileen Cook
“The only stupid mistake was not knowing about it for forty years.”
“Are you saying that Dad had an affair your entire marriage?”
“No, I’m saying he had an affair when we first got married. When he was doing all that travel for work. Some hussy waitress at a hotel.” She sniffed her disapproval.
“This happened forty years ago?”
“Are you going to be just like him and say that because it was so long ago and just one time it doesn’t matter? How he made a terrible mistake and he’s been sorry every day since? As if his being sorry should be enough. Simply because I just found out doesn’t mean that I don’t have a right to be angry now. He thinks because he’s behaved himself since…behaved himself! Like he’s a toddler. Just because he’s been a good boy since then, he should get a pass.”
“It was just the one time?”
“One time can be enough. You only have to drop something once for it to be broken.”
I placed my hand on my mom’s elbow.
“I’m so sorry, Mom.”
A tear trickled down her face and she yanked her hand across it, brushing it away. She stood up and started bustling around the room again, plumping pillows by pounding on them.
“No need to be sorry. I just wanted a little break. A chance to think things over. You can see why I didn’t want to stay with your sisters, can’t you?”
“Of course.” My mind skipped over various topics trying to figure out where to start. “Do you want to talk to someone, like a counselor?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t need to go blathering my problems to a complete stranger. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She gave the pillows a couple of extra punches. “Now then, what were you going to talk to me about? You sounded like you were having a spot of bother.”
“Me?” I swallowed. Somehow mentioning that I was a home wrecker didn’t strike me as the best plan. “Can’t remember, must not have been too important.”
“Okay then. I’m pooped. All that travel just takes it right out of me. I’m going to go crawl into bed with my book. I got a new Jenny Crusie at the airport. You need any help with that ankle, you just give me a shout.”
“Sure.”
I lay back on the inflatable bed. Thoughts wrestling each other inside my brain, each one briefly on top and then thrown down by another. The phone rang again. I picked up the receiver.
“Erin? It’s me,” Jonathon said. I held out the receiver. I could hear he was talking, but couldn’t make out the words.
“You shouldn’t call anymore. It’s over,” I whispered into the receiver, holding it like a microphone so I wouldn’t hear his response. I hung up again. Waited a beat and then turned off the ringer. My mom needed her sleep. No point in the phone waking her up. I rolled over and pulled the afghan over me without even bothering to pull off my clothes.
“Well, aren’t you the sweetest thing!” I heard my mom coo. I opened one eye. She wasn’t anywhere around. I sat up quickly. One thing I had discovered about inflatable beds is that ordinary sheets are repelled by their surface. I must have gotten up two or three times in an effort to sort out the bedding. Sometime around 3:30am I had briefly considered duct taping them in place. I gave my eyes another rub; I wondered if my mom was talking to my dad on the phone.
“I’m just so glad to have a chance to meet you,” a voice in my hallway said. A voice I knew all too well. I swung my legs over, the sheets slid again, and I spilled out onto the floor just as my mom and Colin entered the room.
“You haven’t been drinking again, have you?” Colin asked his voice laced with faux concern.
“Drinking?” my mother asked, her eyes getting wider.
“He’s pulling your leg, Mom.” I gave him a look indicating that although I was still half-asleep I was capable of removing his spleen using only my fingernails. Colin crossed the room and threw his arm around me.
“You know how I love to tease. Don’t put on your grumpy face. I brought everything to make breakfast.”
“She’s made that face since she was a little girl. Did she ever tell you how her grandmother used to call her Grumpy after the dwarf in Snow White when she was misbehaving? She had a thing about being a Disney princess and it used to make her livid when her grandmother would do that.”
“What kind of grandmother calls their grandchild a dwarf? The short gene comes from her side of the family,” I pointed out.
“See, it still makes her mad.”
“And she still wants to be a princess,” Colin added.
My mom and Colin laughed together as I tried not to go back to the grumpy face although I could feel the skin on my face growing tight.
“Now go jump in the shower and I’ll get breakfast going.”
“A man who can cook!” my mom gushed. In fairness, my dad found it difficult to do anything that required the most basic culinary talent. My mother had done all of that for him for so long that any skill in that area that he might have once exercised had long ago atrophied. The joke in our house was that my dad didn’t know how to butter toast.
“I can help,” I offered, not liking the idea of the two of them nattering away at each other in the kitchen without supervision.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You know what they say about too many cooks in the kitchen. Besides, this will give me a chance to get to know your mother better.”
“Oh, the stories I can tell you about when she was a little girl.”
“Mom,” I cautioned.
“See, now that sounds perfect. Besides, we’ve got to get a move on. I’ve gotten us tickets to see the matinee of the
Phantom of the Opera
.”
My mom clutched her hands together at her chest, her eyes and smile competing to be the widest. She looked like Ed McMahon had just shown up at the door with a giant cardboard check.
“I so wanted to see that show!” She peered over at me suspiciously. “I thought you said Colin didn’t like musical theatre.”
I glanced between Colin and her.
“She must be confused. I will admit to not being a big fan of opera. All that singing in German. But musical theatre? Who doesn’t love that? I’ve invited Diana too. She’ll be meeting us here. She can’t wait to meet you either,” he said to my mom.
“How did you get her to agree to come?” I asked.
“I tried a novel approach of just asking her. Not to mention I chose something not designed to have redeeming educational values, but instead known strictly for its fun content.”
“Does she know my mother is here?” I looked meaningfully at Colin, trying to communicate my true message—did Diana understand that he and I were supposed to be a couple in front of her?
“Yes,” he said simply, not giving me any reassurance. Colin looked down at his watch. “Okay then, into the shower with you.” He and my mom bustled off to the kitchen while they debated the merits of non-stick versus proper cast iron cookery.
The one time in my life I needed to take a quick shower and I couldn’t. I had to wrap my cast up with a garbage bag and lean against the shower wall to avoid taking a header. The last thing I needed was one more broken or bruised body part. I pulled on the first thing in my closet that looked remotely decent, re-wrapped the bandages on my blistered feet, and hustled out into the kitchen. I paused in the door. Diana had arrived and was helping my mom set out plates. Colin had tied on a ruffled apron and was in charge of pancake production. He was providing a running commentary in a faux French accent as if he were a famous chef.
“Vell, me cherie, you haft emerged like un petite Venus from the shower.” Colin waved the spatula around. “Come, my little framboise, I haft made vu bonne crepes.”
“Is any of that really French?” Diana asked.
“The point isn’t if it is French, the point is if you believe it could be French.” He pointed to a chair with his spatula. I was getting the feeling we were going to have to surgically remove it from his hand. He was growing rather attached to it, waving it around as if it were a scepter. “Sit. Today on the menu we have buttermilk silk pancakes with a pear compote topping. Fresh whipped cream optional.”
The pancakes were amazing. They were light, which made eating a stack of them frightfully easy. You could forget for a few moments that each bite most likely contained as many calories as licking a stick of butter. The pear syrup was sweet, but not overly so, and it had a touch of cinnamon and nutmeg. I could tell my mother was torn between which she liked more: the pancakes or Colin. I sat back in my seat, my stomach pushing against my skirt. I considered that I might have to change and go straight for wearing a muumuu if I kept eating like this.
“I’ll admit I had no idea you could cook like this.” I pushed back from the table so that the platter of pancakes would be beyond my reach. I wanted to get Colin alone for a beat and tell him that things were over with Jonathon, but I didn’t know what the point of that would be.
“How could you not know that your boyfriend was such a chef?” my mother asked. I hesitated while my mind searched around for a good answer to that one.
“They’re a very odd couple if you really want to know,” Diana offered. The entire table looked at her. “Well, don’t be mad, but you are. The list of things that they don’t know about each other is almost as long as the things they
think
they know about each other.”
“From the mouths of babes,” Colin said.
“Are you calling me a child?” Diana asked, her voice raised.
“I believe it was a compliment,” my mom said before I could say anything. “Now have you ever been to a live play?” Diana shook her head no. “Oh, well then you are in for a real treat.” She launched into a discussion of the history of theater. It appeared she planned to start with Aristotle and work her way up. Diana, instead of rolling her eyes the way she would with me, listened intently.
“Come along, galley slave. You can help wash up,” Colin said, knighting me on the shoulder with the spatula lightly.
“You didn’t have to come,” I said quietly when we were at the sink.
“I said that I would.” He piled the plates into the sink. “I think you could tell her the truth, but if you don’t want to, that’s your business.”
“You don’t understand my mother.”
“It’s you I don’t understand.”
I turned to try and explain it to him, but he was staring at me. He took a step in and kissed me. I placed a hand on his shoulder to push him away, but my hand followed its own plans and instead grabbed hold of his sweater and pulled him closer. I leaned back, my head tilted up.
Diana gave a wolf whistle and we broke apart. My mom gave a small laugh. My face flushed red hot, each freckle no doubt standing out like a brand.
“I think they forgot we were here,” my mom said to Diana.
“What are you doing?” I hissed at Colin.
“Just playing the part,” he said back and my breath froze in my chest. Just playing the part. His words kept repeating, bouncing off one another inside my head. Colin looked at his watch.
“We should get over to the theater, everybody.”
“Do they sell popcorn?” Diana asked.
“How can you even think about eating again?” Colin asked. While they all filed out to get their jackets, I stood by myself in the kitchen. I felt separated from all of them. I felt separated from myself. I wouldn’t have been surprised to have one of those out of body experiences where you float above yourself and watch. Everything seemed turned on its end. Upside down. I reached up, my fingers running over my lips as if they were Braille. I had liked the kiss. I may not have wanted to admit it, but I’d liked it. I wasn’t playing a part, and that made things even more confusing.