Authors: Jennifer Close
“No, thanks,” Max said. “We’ll be up soon.” Claire left them down there, wondering what it was that they could be fighting about.
CLAIRE FRESHENED HER BLOODY MARY,
and sat down next to Cathy on the couch. She reached forward and grabbed some slices of cheese.
The worst part is almost over
, she told herself.
Cathy turned to her and lowered her voice. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but I’m really sorry. About Doug and everything.”
“Thanks,” Claire said.
“I really mean it,” she went on. “I know how sometimes news can
be worse when everyone else gets ahold of it. You forget how you even feel about it. But just remember that however you feel about it is fine.”
“Thanks,” Claire said again. But this time her eyes watered a little bit and Cathy squeezed her arm. Maybe being with Ruth had made Cathy a nicer person. And maybe Claire should ease up on the Bloody Marys a little bit.
LAST NIGHT, FRAN HAD TOLD HER
that she was “D-runk.” That’s how he’d said it, pronouncing the
D
and the
runk
, as if they were two different words. She’d protested, telling him she was just tipsy. And then, as they walked into the kitchen to look for snacks, she’d tripped on her heel and ended up facedown on the kitchen floor.
“I’ve fallen,” she said, “and I can’t get up.”
“Come on,” Fran said. He lifted her up and brushed the front of her, like she was a little kid that had fallen in dirt. “Time to go home.”
“No, I was just kidding,” she said. “Don’t you remember that commercial? I was just pretending.”
Fran had walked her across the street and down the block to her front door. “I should get home anyway,” he said. “People are coming over early tomorrow. Why do people eat so early on Thanksgiving anyway? Who wants to eat mashed potatoes at noon?”
“We don’t eat until late,” Claire said. “Like six o’clock, usually.” She sat on the front cement steps and rested her head on her knees.
“Okay, then,” Fran said. He knelt down. “Do you want to go inside?”
“I think I’m just going to sit here for a while.”
“What?”
Claire lifted her head. “I said, I’m just going to sit here for a while.”
“Do you want me to wait with you?”
Claire shook her head. “No, you can go home.” She put her head back on her knees and waved her arm. “Go, I’m serious.”
“I’d feel better if you were inside,” he said.
Claire stood up and walked down the steps. “Okay, I’ll go in the back door, then.”
She waved good-bye to him as he walked down the driveway and the sidewalk, and then when he turned the corner, she walked across the street and back to Lainie’s.
Almost everyone had gone home, but Lainie’s two younger sisters were still there, and they cheered when she walked in. “You’re back,” Lainie said. “Yay!”
They sat on the back patio and smoked cigarettes, until Claire started feeling like it was going to make her puke. Lainie smoked only when she was drunk, but she didn’t like to smoke in the front of the house, in case any of her clients walked by. “Pilates people do not smoke,” she always said.
They talked about Fran, and Claire re-created her “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” scene for Lainie, who loved it.
“What do you want with Fran?” Lainie asked. Claire shrugged. She really didn’t know.
“I don’t think I want anything,” she said. “Or maybe just a little something. I don’t know.”
She barely remembered their moving back inside the house, and vaguely remembered sitting on the couch and then just laying her body down sideways to sleep. Then the next thing she remembered was waking up to Jack calling her out on sleeping in her clothes.
“RUTH, AREN’T YOU GOING TO HAVE
any turkey?” Bets asked.
“Bets, Ruth is a vegan,” Cathy said.
Bets sniffed. “Right, I forgot.” She asked the same question every year, and Claire was pretty sure that she put “Vegan” right along with “Alcoholic” on her list of things she didn’t believe in.
“Martha, how’s the job going?” Maureen asked.
“Fine. I mean, good. It’s going well.”
“You must be the only white caretaker out there,” Bets said. “All of ours are foreign, probably illegals. You’ll be in high demand.” She smiled at Martha.
“Mom,” Weezy said. Bets just shrugged and held up her hands, like,
What do you want me to do?
“Should we say grace?” Will asked. They all bowed their heads, and afterward Will raised his glass and said, “Let’s eat!”
Claire noticed that Cleo was just poking her food around on her plate. “Are you okay?” she asked her quietly, but everyone heard her anyway.
“What’s the matter, Cleo? Are you not feeling well?” Weezy asked.
“There was a bug going around the retirement community last week,” Bets offered. “Four people died.”
Claire and Ruth caught each other’s eye and smiled, then looked down at their plates. It wasn’t funny, of course, that four people had died. It was just that the first time Ruth met Bets, she’d been going on and on about all of her friends that had died. Ruth had very nicely asked Claire later, “Does your grandmother talk about death a lot?” and Claire had laughed so hard she’d peed a little bit. Ever since then, the two of them were in serious danger of getting the giggles when Bets announced that another bridge partner had dropped dead.
“The sweet potatoes are wonderful,” Will said. “And so are the apples and cranberries. Martha, you’ve outdone yourself.”
Martha smiled as everyone chimed in, “Yes, they’re amazing, they really are. So tasty.”
Claire had moved on to white wine and she finished her glass and refilled it from the bottle at the table. Thankfully, it was making her headache go away. There would be another one tomorrow, she knew, but for the moment it was worth it to get through this dinner.
“We’ll call Drew after dinner,” Weezy said.
“Where is Drew?” Bets asked. They’d told her maybe ten times already.
“Drew stayed in California. He’s having Thanksgiving with some coworkers,” Maureen said.
“Well, that sounds downright depressing,” Bets said.
“I think it sounds nice,” Max offered. “To be someplace where it’s warm, I mean.” He got up and returned with another beer. On his way back to his seat, he patted Cleo’s shoulder. The table got quiet and all Claire could hear was chewing and forks hitting the plates.
“Do you like train travel?” Bets directed this question at Ruth, who looked as surprised as the rest of them.
“Um, yes, I do. I haven’t done much of it, but I do like it.”
Claire saw Weezy and Maureen give each other a meaningful look across the table. They were always on the lookout for signs that Bets was losing it, and bringing up train travel out of the blue was a bit strange.
“Should we go around and say what we’re thankful for?” Weezy suggested. It was something they’d done when they were little, and every so often, when conversation was lacking, they did it again. One year, Drew said he was thankful for the dirt bike that he’d gotten for his birthday, and Bets tried to make him choose something else. He’d refused, telling her that really was what he was most thankful for. Bets got mad and told Maureen that she’d raised materialistic children. Weezy had come to her defense, and all the kids went upstairs to play and listen to their mothers fight with their grandmother. Will had gone into the kitchen to clean, which was more desirable than staying at the table and fighting over a dirt bike.
Now, when they went around the table to say what they were thankful for, everyone gave up and just said “Family” and “Health” as their answers. Weezy was about to start, when Cathy interrupted her.
“Well, actually, I have an announcement to make,” she said. She looked around the table and smiled, looking a little nervous. “Last night I asked Ruth to marry me, and she said yes!”
Claire thought she felt time stop. Bets had her fork in her hand and she held it right above her plate, a strange little smile on her face. Everyone else stared at Cathy, as though it would take a minute to understand what she had said. Finally, Martha squealed and jumped up to run around the table and hug Cathy and Ruth. Once she moved, everyone seemed to get unfrozen.
“This is so exciting,” Martha said over and over.
“Will you be my maid of honor?” Cathy asked. Martha started to cry and Claire rolled her eyes before she could stop herself.
“Of course,” Martha said.
“Well,” Maureen said. “What a surprise. Well. What a happy Thanksgiving.”
“To the engaged couple,” Will said, holding up his glass. Claire knew he would repeat the story later, to friends and coworkers, saying, “You can’t pick who you love, you know. As long as they’re happy, we’re happy.”
They all raised their glasses and clinked them to the right, to the left, and the center. Now Claire knew why Cathy had mentioned Doug.
She really did feel bad that she was going to announce her engagement so soon after Claire’s ended. That’s why it was sincere.
Cathy turned to Claire. “Will you be my bridesmaid?” she asked.
“Of course,” Claire said. “I’d be honored.” She took a sip of wine.
LATER, AFTER THE TABLE WAS CLEARED
and the dishes were stacked, and the dishwasher was started, they all rested in the family room. It would probably be two days before the kitchen was really clean again. It never seemed worth it to Claire, to make all that mess for one meal. But then again, Thanksgiving was not her favorite holiday.
Someone suggested playing a game, but no one really wanted to, so they just sat around for a while. Will fell asleep in his chair and started snoring loudly. Claire leaned her head back on the couch and closed her eyes, and when she opened them, Maureen, Cathy, and Ruth were getting ready to leave.
Everyone hugged, and Bets went up to bed. Will stood up and stretched, pretended that he hadn’t been sleeping and said that he was heading to bed as well. The house smelled like turkey grease, which made Claire feel a little sick.
Claire and Martha unloaded the dishwasher and got another group of dishes in, and then they started washing the china and crystal by hand. “Oh, thanks, girls,” Weezy said. She was on the couch with her feet up. “You don’t have to do all that. I’ll be there in just a minute.” But her eyes were closed, and she looked like she couldn’t have moved if she wanted to.
Martha kept talking about Cathy’s wedding. “I’ll have to give a speech,” she said. She almost dropped the wineglass she was drying. “What will I say? Oh, I’m already nervous. What do you think she’ll want us to wear?”
“Burlap sacks,” Claire said.
“Very funny. Ruth has a great sense of style.”
“Yes, but we’re Cathy’s bridesmaids. I think she’ll be the one picking out the dresses.”
“Oh, well, we can suggest some things. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not.”
They finished the second round of cleaning, and Claire went
upstairs to get ready for bed. Martha came up a little while later, when she was already under the covers.
“I tried to get Mom to go to bed, but she’s still on the couch. She kept saying, ‘I’ll get up in a minute.’ ”
“Mmm-hmm,” Claire said. She was half-asleep.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Martha whispered.
CLAIRE WOKE UP WITH A START,
in the middle of a nightmare where she was falling off of a balcony. She sat up to steady herself, and saw Martha squatting by the door, which was cracked open.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Shhhh,” Martha said. She motioned for Claire to come next to her.
“What?” Claire said. But she got up and went to the door. She could hear her mom’s voice, but couldn’t quite hear what she was saying. Then she heard Max, who sounded like he was crying.
“What’s going on?” she asked Martha.
Martha turned, her eyes wide. “I think Cleo’s pregnant,” she said.
“No—did you really hear that?”
“I think so. It’s kind of hard to hear.”
“No way. Max is probably just failing a class or something.” But even as she said it, Claire knew that she was wrong. She couldn’t hear what Max was saying, but she knew he was upset. And not much upset Max. In fact, almost nothing upset him. Claire tried to ignore the excited look in Martha’s eyes.
Claire never understood the way that Martha got almost giddy when there was tragedy or drama. She fed off of it. She could find a problem in any situation, even the most pleasant. But when there was a real problem, like this, that’s where she really thrived. She got involved, she talked about it constantly. It was like being a part of the drama made her feel included and important.
They sat crouched together, listening to the rise and fall of Weezy’s and Max’s voices. They heard Cleo’s name and something about her mom. They heard Weezy say, “Decisions to make,” and “young” and “difficult.” And once, they heard an “Oh, Max,” from Weezy, and then they heard Max really start to cry.
They looked at each other, and Claire knew that it was true. Cleo
must be pregnant, because what else could it be? Unless Max had killed someone, but even then, Weezy would be on the phone with a lawyer or the police. And she wasn’t. She was just talking to Max, her voice filled with disappointment. And that was never a good sign.
Poor Max
, she thought.
Poor, poor Max
.
CHAPTER
14
Weezy didn’t handle it as well as Max had thought she would. He’d said, “It won’t be that bad” so many times that Cleo almost believed him. She agreed that he should tell Weezy by himself, and not just because she didn’t want any part of that conversation. Weezy wouldn’t be able to react truthfully if Cleo was there, and that didn’t seem fair.
Max went upstairs late, after everyone had gone to bed. Weezy was asleep on the couch, but he’d woken her up. Cleo had stayed in the basement, sitting on the top step and listening.
Weezy had started crying almost immediately. At first Cleo felt bad, but after a while as she listened to Weezy heave and gasp, with what seemed like unnecessary drama, she started to get annoyed. She thought about storming up the stairs, looking her in the face, and saying, “What are you crying about? You don’t have to have this baby.” She didn’t, of course. She stayed put and listened to Weezy repeat that she was so disappointed. Not
in
them, but
for
them. Whatever that meant.