“Fine.” She took a slurp of water and rolled her eyes.
“Mom,” I said, “I have always admired how calm and capable you are.”
“Well, how else am I supposed to be? Like a chicken with its head cut off?”
“Great job, Mom. And now you say something nice to me.” Sneaky of me, I know. Fishing for maternal approval.
She sighed. “Well, I think you looked better with a little meat on your bones, frankly.”
“Nope, you’ve got it wrong, Mom. Something nice.”
“That was nice.”
“So you’re saying I look too thin.”
“I’m sayin’ you were always a decent-looking girl and you didn’t have to lose weight and wear fancy clothes for a person to see it.”
She gaveth with one hand, tooketh away with the other. “Thank you, Mom. That’s very sweet of you. Now, for Poe, maybe you could say something like ‘Even though these aren’t the best circumstances, I’m so glad we get to spend this time together.’”
“Well, I’m nawt glad, Nora! My daughter’s in jail!”
“We’re lying here, Mom. Okay? Personally, I’m dead inside, but I’m faking it till I make it. See this smile? See me going through the motions of making a nutritious, pleasant dinner for one? See me enjoying life through one glass of wine per day? This is what humans do.”
She frowned. “Why are you dead inside?”
“I’m not. I’m just exaggerating.” I resumed cutting carrots. Collier Rhodes had fantastic knives, and I had to watch carefully that I didn’t slice off the tip of my finger, because I was still nervous around knives.
“You’ve been different this past year.”
“Really, Mom? How would you know?” I took a hostile drink of wine, if one could do that. “I’ll text Poe, and you make sure she gets here. Okay? Great. Thanks for stopping by.”
“You ought to be eating more meat,” my mother said. “You look pale.”
“Okay. Bye.”
It was only when she was off the dock and in her car that I chugged the rest of my wine. “I’m a gastroenterologist, Mom. How many colons have you cleaned out, huh? You think I might know a little bit more about healthy eating than you do, huh? That maybe med school wasn’t just to kill time?”
There was a knock on the door. Whoopsy. Must keep the rants to myself.
It was Audrey Fletcher, Sullivan’s daughter.
“Hi, Audrey!” I said.
“Is it okay if I come in?” she asked shyly.
“Sure! I’d love that. I’m just making dinner. Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?”
“Do you have any Coke?”
“I don’t, honey. How about seltzer water with a slice of... Let’s see here...” I opened the fridge. “How about with a few blackberries thrown in for flavor?”
“That’d be great. Hi, Boomer! Hi, buddy!” She knelt down on the floor and loved up the dog.
“Do you have a dog?” I asked, getting her drink.
“No. A cat. He’s nice. Sooty. He’s pretty old, and a dog would be kind of hard for him to deal with.”
“Sure. So what’s new? How’s school going?”
“It’s fine.” She smiled uncertainly, and I felt a rush of kinship with her.
“I hated high school,” I said, handing her the drink, which looked sophisticated and fun, the berries bobbing around with the ice, dancing on the bubbles.
“Why did you hate it?” she asked.
I put a few carrot sticks in a bowl, sprinkled them with pepper and put them on the counter between us, taking one to chomp on. Then I resumed my chopping, moving on to the cilantro, the clean, fresh smell filling the air. “Well, I wasn’t real popular. Too smart, too much of an oddball, too clumsy. And my sister was ridiculously beautiful, so self-esteem was kind of hard to come by.”
“My mom’s really pretty,” she said wistfully. She took a sip of her water. “And my dad is super handsome.”
“That’s true,” I said, though Luke’s face was the one that flashed before me—not in the best way. “Your dad was really nice in high school.”
She brightened. “I bet. He’s the greatest.”
“Are you an only child?”
“I have a half brother. Rocco. He’s seven.” She paused. “My parents got divorced when I was three.”
“Would I know your mom?”
“Amy Beckman? She was in your class, too, I guess.”
I looked up sharply. “Huh. So they stayed together.”
“Not for very long. They were twenty when I was born, twenty-three when they divorced.”
I felt the bite of satisfaction. I’d always thought Sullivan could’ve done better than the clichéd Amy.
Then again, I also remembered seeing her skip up to the Clam Shack with a bouquet of lupines for Sully one summer afternoon, all smiles and sweetness, and I pretended not to look as he kissed her.
Everyone had two sides. Or three. Or seven.
“Do you get along with your brother?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah. I love him. I mean, he lives with my mom, and I live with my dad, so he doesn’t mess up my stuff or anything. But he’s great. A real cutie.” She beamed, and I smiled back. “I make him shirts once in a while, and I stencil dinosaurs on them and stuff.”
“Wow, you can sew?”
“I’m in the fashion club in school. We make clothes and stuff, and at the end of the year, we have a show. Like on Project Runway.”
“I love that show! Do you make your own clothes, too?”
She looked down at her T-shirt and too-tight, unflattering jeans. “No. Call me Michael Kors. I create better than I dress.”
I laughed. “Poe loves fashion, too,” I said. At least, I thought she did. She looked at magazines a lot, and many of those magazines showed celebrities on the red carpet. And Poe certainly had her own look going on with the blue hair and all.
“I thought she might join the club, but...” Audrey shrugged, her cheeks coloring. Poe had turned her down, clearly.
My niece could use a nice girl as a friend. And maybe Audrey could use a badass as a friend.
“Hey, Audrey, any chance you want to sleep over on Friday? Poe is coming, and it’d be great to have you here, too.”
“Really?” Her face brightened so fast that I knew she didn’t get many invitations. Crap, it was like looking at a version of my teenage self.
Except her father was here and loved her. And her brother. And hopefully, Amy did, too.
“Yeah. Only if you’re interested, though. And obviously, I’d have to ask your parents.”
“I’ll call my dad right now!” she said, whipping out her phone. “Dad? Hi! I’m at Nora’s...Uh-huh!...No, I rode my bike here...I don’t know, I didn’t see him. Listen, can I sleep over here on Friday? Poe’s gonna be here...Her niece...Okay, hold on.”
She passed the phone to me. “Hi, Sullivan,” I said.
“Nora?”
“The one and only.” I winced. “How are you?” I tried to speak clearly without overdoing it.
“Good. I’m fine. How are you?”
“Great. Uh, my niece is sleeping over, and I thought it would be fun if Audrey was here, too. Would that be okay?”
There was a pause, and in it, all my insecurities opened their eyes and stretched. Why would I let my kid come to your house, Troll? Why would I want her being friends with your mean-ass little niece? Are you some kind of sexual predator, asking my daughter to sleep over?