Authors: Jennifer Close
Cleo, if it was possible, looked even more gorgeous than she had before. “Hi, Mrs. Coffey,” she said. They gave each other a tentative hug.
“I brought these for you,” Cleo said, and held out a box of chocolates, which was a nice gesture, but Weezy’s first thought was that more food in the house was the last thing that they needed, and when was she going to put these out for people when there were already so many desserts?
But of course she just smiled and said, “Thank you.”
The two of them stood there and smiled at each other, as though they both thought it would convey how thrilled they were to share Thanksgiving. Max was on the ground with Ruby, letting the dog lick his face, bending his head down so she could smell his hair and press her head against his. Ruby wagged her tail more for Max than for anyone, and she was always a little depressed when he left.
“Do you two want something to eat?” Weezy asked. “Max, I got
some cold cuts for you. I could make you a sandwich or maybe you want something else? We’re having spaghetti and meatballs at Maureen’s tonight, so you probably don’t want pasta.”
“We’re okay for now,” Max said. “Actually, we’re going to throw our stuff down and head over to John’s to see him and meet up with some people. I think we’ll stop at Gino’s for a cheese steak.”
“Not Pat’s?”
“We went there last time. Cleo has to try both so she knows which one she likes better.” Max gave the back of her neck a squeeze, and she scrunched up her shoulders and laughed.
And then they were gone. They dropped their bags in the rooms and were out the door a few minutes later. “Be sure to be back by four, because Bets will be here and then we’ll head over to Maureen’s.” Max gave her a kiss and they left. She noticed that Cleo looked relieved to be leaving, even though she’d just gotten there.
MAUREEN BURNED THE BREAD.
She basically had just one thing to do for the dinner, which was to cook the garlic bread, and it was black when they got there. Smoke filled the kitchen. “I didn’t want to forget it, so I just popped it in,” Maureen said, as if that explained it.
Will was sent out to get more. “Just get some frozen stuff,” Weezy instructed. There was no telling what he’d come back with, but it was a risk they’d have to take. Bets was already sniffing and coughing in the kitchen over the smoke, and Maureen was in the corner sipping a glass of wine.
Weezy turned the fan on and cracked the window in the kitchen, then set to work warming up the meatballs, and instructed Maureen to empty the bags of prewashed salad that she’d gotten that day and to toss them with Italian dressing. She sat Bets down and got her a glass of wine. All of the kids were already in the next room, laughing about something.
“Maureen was never much of a cook,” Bets said.
“Thanks so much, Mom,” Maureen said.
Parents would probably be arrested these days if they talked the way their parents had. Sometimes she still heard her dad’s voice: “Louise is the brains,” he’d say to strangers, “and Maureen’s the looker.”
Will came back with the bread and asked Bets how things were going in the retirement village. “I call it Death Valley,” she told him, “because every other day, there’s a body taken out of there on a stretcher.”
“Bets, you’re a funny one,” he said. He laughed and put his hand on his stomach, and Weezy was amazed, as she always was, that her husband was good-natured enough not just to put up with Bets but to actually seem to enjoy her company.
They finished getting the dinner ready—after sending Will out one more time to get meatless sauce for Ruth, which they’d forgotten—and everyone sat down to eat. The kids were chattering, all happy to see each other, and that made Weezy so happy. When she had Claire, everyone had told her, “Those girls are sure to be best friends,” but they weren’t. And then, when she’d had Max, she was worried that he’d be raised as an only child, not close to his sisters at all, but right from the get-go, he and Claire had been thick as thieves and still were.
She was always happy that Martha and Cathy were so close. It wasn’t the same as a sibling, but at least it was a family member that was a friend. It was Cathy’s poor brother, Drew, really, that was always the odd man out when he was around. Although most of the time, he didn’t even seem to mind.
Will poured them all more red wine and made a toast, and the whole family ate, spilling sauce all over the tablecloth, which would have driven Weezy nuts if it had been her house, but Maureen didn’t seem to notice or care, and so she relaxed and let herself enjoy the dinner.
IT OCCURRED TO WEEZY,
after Max was born, that she now had the exact same family that she’d grown up in—two girls, a year apart, and then a boy. Of course, their baby brother, Jimmy, died when he was just a few weeks old and—this was awful, but true—sometimes she forgot that he’d been there at all.
After he’d died, her father delivered the news, very matter-of-factly. “He went to heaven,” he said one morning. He’d already been to the hospital with Bets and Jimmy in the middle of the night. The girls had
never even been woken up. A neighbor was called to come and sit in the house with them.
They’d had a funeral for him, a small and quick ceremony. (“Thank God he was already baptized,” their grandmother kept saying. “That’s why you do it right away. Right away. You don’t waste a second.”) There was a baby picture of him placed alongside pictures of Weezy and Maureen on the side table in the front hall. But he was rarely mentioned.
If that had happened these days, if a baby died, people would talk to the kids. They’d probably be in therapy before the funeral was even planned. But Weezy and Maureen never really talked about Jimmy. They knew it was sad—unthinkable—to lose a baby, and after they’d both had kids they maybe understood that a little bit more. But they didn’t feel the sadness, really. Not the way Bets did. She never talked about it, but something changed in her after that. The pictures before were of her smiling widely with lots of lipstick, and after she looked sharper, and always smiled with her mouth closed.
Bets had always hated Philadelphia, still referred to Michigan as home even after she’d been gone for years. She had met James when he was working in Detroit, and she’d been impressed with his “East Coast ways,” as she always put it. They dated for a few months, and when his company transferred him back to Philadelphia, he’d proposed and she’d accepted.
But she’d never liked the people in Philadelphia; she missed her friends and family back home. She seemed to blame James in some way for taking her there, although Weezy always thought, she’d agreed to go, so she couldn’t really complain. After Jimmy died, it was just one more thing that Bets hated about the place.
When James had a heart attack and died Weezy’s freshman year in college, Bets wasted no time. She packed up the house, sold it, and right after Maureen graduated from high school, she moved back to Michigan. Both Weezy and Maureen thought this was a mistake, and they were devastated at losing their childhood home so soon after losing their father. “She’s not going to be happy there,” they told each other. “She has a memory of it, but it won’t be the same when she gets there.”
But they were wrong. Bets thrived back in Michigan. She reconnected with all of “the gals” she’d known growing up, and it was like she’d never been gone for those twenty years. She had no problem leaving Philadelphia, even if that meant moving away from her children. “That was never my home,” she always said about it, as if all of her time there, raising her children, was just one little pause in her real life.
THEY ALL GOT HOME, STUFFED AND TIRED,
and Weezy figured everyone would just go to bed, but Claire announced that she was going over to Lainie’s with Max and Cleo.
“You’re going over now?” Weezy asked. “It’s so late already.”
“Mom, it’s fine. It’s not even that late.”
“What about Martha?”
“What about Martha?” Claire repeated.
“Did you invite her?”
“Yep. I told her we were all going but she wasn’t interested.”
“Well, why don’t you invite her again?”
“Why? She already said no.”
“You know sometimes she needs to be convinced to go somewhere,” Weezy said.
“You want me to go beg Martha to come with me, to a party that she doesn’t want to go to?”
“Claire.” Weezy gave her a look, and Claire let out a sigh, but she went upstairs, and returned with Martha in tow. The four of them headed out the door and Weezy called, “Have a good time!”
Weezy settled herself on the couch and turned on the TV. There was so much to be done for tomorrow, but she could rest for just a minute.
It’s a Wonderful Life
was on, which made it seem like Thanksgiving was already over, like time had just raced by and it was already Christmas.
She watched a little bit of the movie, but her heart wasn’t in it, so she snuck over to the computer and pulled up Wedding Belles and Whistles. She read an article by a bride who was to be married that weekend, and how she’d already arranged to have a plate of Thanksgiving
food set aside for her, since she wouldn’t be able to indulge that day. She was making place card holders in the shape of turkeys, which sounded a little silly to Weezy, but they were actually sort of whimsical looking.
Just a few minutes
, she told herself as she settled into her chair and read all about Thanksgiving Bride’s big day.
CHAPTER
13
Claire knew before she opened her eyes that it wasn’t good. Her head was throbbing, and it felt like she was on a boat, or something that was moving very slowly, back and forth. She opened her eyes to find that it was just a couch—Lainie’s couch—and not a boat. Her right hip ached, probably because she’d been lying on it for hours without moving. She looked in front of her and saw a full glass of wine on the coffee table, and Jack standing and staring at her. He was still in his pajamas, which were dark blue with light green monsters printed on them, and he was holding some sort of Transformer-looking toy, although Claire realized with a horrible throb of her head that it couldn’t be a Transformer because kids didn’t even play with those anymore—or did they? Were they back? She couldn’t remember, and thinking about it was making her want to vomit.
“Hi,” Jack said. He rubbed his nose with the heel of his hand. “Hey, you’re still dressed for the party.”
Claire closed her eyes. She was still wearing the same clothes she’d worn over last night. Sleeping on Lainie’s couch wasn’t a first—she’d done that plenty—but being so drunk that she couldn’t bother to borrow a T-shirt and sweatpants was a new low. In the kitchen, someone was banging drawers open and closed, like they were in a hurry. Lainie walked out into the room holding a cup of coffee.
“Hey, bud,” she said, touching Jack’s head. Then turning to Claire, she said, “I feel awful.”
Claire sat up slowly, and held on to the arm of the couch in an attempt to stop the spinning in her head. “Really? I feel great.”
Lainie laughed. “You kept me up way too late last night. And made
me drink way too much wine. I’m so screwed. I have to bring a pie to Brian’s mom’s house.”
“Really, well, I have to actually stand up at some point today. And right now I’m not sure that’s possible.”
“Do you want some coffee?” Lainie asked. She was now moving quickly around the room, picking up the last of the party remnants, taking the empty glasses into the kitchen, and throwing out the napkins. Ever since Lainie had had kids, she didn’t really get hungover. She claimed she did, but she never sat still and moaned about it. “I can’t,” she said once. “I don’t have a choice, so it’s like my body figured out how to get through the hangover while letting me move around.” It made Claire feel worse to watch her up and cleaning.
“No coffee for me, thanks,” Claire said. “I just need to lay here for a minute.”
“Sure. Your phone has been ringing, by the way.”
“Oh God.” Claire knew it was Weezy. “I should go home soon.”
Jack was folding and unfolding his little toy into a truck and then a robot. He was making those noises that little boys make to mimic an explosion, or a rocket, or a bomb.
“Hey, bud, you want to help me make a pie?” Lainie asked. Jack looked up and nodded. “All right, then, go get dressed.”
Jack ran out of the room, and Claire sat up. She told Lainie what Jack had said to her about still being dressed for the party, and the two of them snorted with laughter.
“Okay,” Claire said, finally standing up. “I think I might make it.”
“OH, CLAIRE,” WEEZY SAID
when she walked in.
“What?”
Weezy sighed. “Look at you. You’re going to be exhausted. I need your help today.”
“I’m right here, ready to help,” Claire said. She smelled like liquor and cigarettes, and she stood on the other side of the kitchen so that Weezy wouldn’t notice.
Weezy went back to stirring the stuffing, sighing as though Claire had just caused a huge inconvenience. The stuffing was in three different
pots, each one overflowing, little stale bread pieces jumping onto the counter at random. “I just wish you hadn’t stayed out all night. We’ve got a big day.”
“I’m fine,” Claire said. She was reminded of the recurring fight that she and Weezy had had after every grade school sleepover. Claire would get angry, Weezy would accuse her of being tired, and then Claire would scream that she wasn’t tired, and then Weezy would threaten that she’d never go to another sleepover again.
All Claire wanted was to go to her room and lie down just for a minute, but Bets was in her room, probably going through her drawers, and snooping through her things. There had been some issues with the sleeping arrangements. Normally, Max stayed in the basement and Bets stayed in his room, but with Cleo here, they needed an extra place for her, so Claire was sent packing to Martha’s room, which had twin beds, Cleo took Max’s room, and Bets got Claire’s room. No one was happy.
Claire grabbed a bagel from the counter, spread it with cream cheese, and ate it in huge, quick bites. She hoped that it would make her feel better. She headed upstairs to take a shower, but Martha was in the bathroom, so she lay down on one of the twin beds and waited.