“Well, put out another place setting!” I said in the voice of a game-show host, complete with Bob Barker–like gestures. “Because guess what? I invited that hag to dinner!”
“Now why would you go and do that?” Mom said, helping me set up my joke further.
“Because I felt sorry for her haggedyness. Her cart was so sad. Filled with Entenmann’s coffee cake and prune juice.”
Dad laughed as Mom pretended to be mad—all part of her anti-Patty schtick.
“So…what time ‘might’ Teddy arrive?” I said, glancing at the clock on the microwave.
“Six o’clock,” she said proudly. “So any minute!”
“Ugh. I’ll be right back,” I muttered then retreated to the back hall to get my purse. I ducked into the powder room to brush my hair and touch up my makeup. It wasn’t that I specifically wanted to look good for Teddy; it was something I’d do for any guest, particularly someone I hadn’t seen in several years. A simple matter of pride.
The doorbell rang as I was returning to the kitchen.
“You should get it,” Mom said.
“Why should I get it? You’re the one who invited him.”
“Nina,” my mom said, her voice rising in a warning. “Be nice.”
I sighed, then went to the door, trying to remember the last time I’d seen Teddy, deciding it would be our first topic of conversation. An icebreaker, if you will.
“Hi, Teddy,” I said, swinging open the screen door and smiling at a middle-aged stranger who, but for those ice-blue eyes, bore little resemblance to the boy I used to date. Don’t get me wrong—it’s not that he looked bad. He was still in decent shape—or at least hadn’t gained much weight—perhaps a function of being tall and having an active profession as a police officer. His hairline had receded more than I’d expected, but with a strong jaw and a nice-shaped head, he could pull it off. If anything, I thought he looked a little better now, having finally shed his aw-shucks boyishness.
“Hi, Nina,” he said, looking and sounding uneasy. “I’m sorry about this. Your mom wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
I laughed and rolled my eyes, saying, “Believe me, I know.” Then, worrying that my statement might have come off as rude, I leaned in and gave him a quick hug. “It’s really good to see you again,” I said.
“You, too,” Teddy said, giving me a big smile, which instantly transformed him back to his old teenage self. Too sweet for me, I thought, thinking of all the Boy Scout clichés that had defined his character because they were things he actually did. How whenever he found a spider in the house, he’d catch it in a container, setting it free outside. How he had shoveled snow for the old lady on his street without charging her—or even taking credit for it. How he never cussed, using ridiculous substitute words like dagnabbit and jackwagon. How he prayed before every meal, including breakfast and lunch, but did it quickly and discreetly so as not to make anyone uncomfortable. He was sort of the opposite of Kathie, come to think of it. Pure of heart without any showiness.
“So, it’s been a while,” I said, as I led him into the kitchen.
“Sure has,” he replied, then exchanged robust hellos with Dad, the two of them shaking hands with a simultaneous back clap.
“Good to see you, buddy,” Dad said as my mother descended upon Teddy, giving him an embrace that looked more like the kind you’d give a relative who’d just returned from Afghanistan than like the way you’d greet your daughter’s ancient-history ex-boyfriend.
“It’s been since our ten-year, right?” I said, milking the topic, remembering that I’d missed our twentieth reunion for Melanie’s fortieth-birthday trip to St. Barths, a source of slight contention with Julie, who had wanted me to press Mel for a date change. It was one of the rare times I disagreed with Julie, insisting to her that benchmark birthdays of close friends trumped school reunions.
Teddy shook his head. “No. I’ve seen you since then….Remember? At Cootie Brown’s a few years back?”
“That’s right,” I said, remembering the brief encounter we’d had at one of the most popular barbecue restaurants in town. I think I’d been back to see Julie’s girls’ ballet recital. Regardless, Teddy had been with his wife and sons, and they’d all seemed happy. I remembered feeling vaguely embarrassed for him. I think it must have had something to do with his still living in Bristol, still going to Cootie Brown’s. For some reason, I made an exception for Julie, as I knew her worldview was constantly evolving and that no part of her mindset ever felt provincial.
“When was that, anyway?” I asked, trying to distract Teddy from my mother’s awkward, trancelike beaming. “Four or five years ago, right?”
“Six, actually,” he quickly replied, then hesitated and added, “It was right after my brother had his first kid.”
“How are they doing?” I asked.
“Good. Great. They had another baby. A girl.”
“That’s great,” I said as Mom, slipping on her oven mitts to check her fries, chimed in with “I saw photos of her on Facebook. Quite the head of red hair! Which side does she get that from, anyway?”
“Dad’s side,” Teddy said. “His mother—my grandma—had red hair.”
Mom closed the oven but kept her mitts on, pointing at Teddy with one. It looked like a foam hand from a sporting event. “You know what? I bet the two of you would have had redheads,” she said, then glanced at me. “It runs on my side, too, you know….”
“Wow, Mom,” I said under my breath as Teddy’s ears and cheeks turned a bright pink. I’d forgotten how easily he blushed.
“Well, he was almost my son-in-law,” she announced, making it even worse.
Dad chuckled and said, “Sorry, Teddy. I’m sure you recall that my wife lacks a filter.”
“Yes, sir. I actually do remember that about my almost mother-in-law,” Teddy replied with a wink.
None of us had expected this joke—at least I hadn’t—and I laughed out loud, feeling myself relax. Teddy seemed to loosen up, too, going on to ask about my brother.
“What’s Max up to these days?” he said.
“He’s still living in New York,” Mom said. “Still single.”
Teddy nodded and smiled.
“Can I get you a drink, Teddy?” I said, opening the fridge to find a six-pack of Corona, clearly purchased after my mom took note of his cart contents. Quite the thoughtful touch.
“Sure,” he said. “If you’re having one.”
I hadn’t planned on it but took two bottles out, putting them on the counter as I washed my hands and then took a lime from our always-stocked fruit bowl. (Mom tried to make up for her lackluster cooking with a bounty of fresh produce.)
As I listened to her grill Teddy about all the latest crimes in town, I sliced the lime into wedges, picked the two best, and tucked them into the tops of the bottles.
“Cheers,” I said, holding up my beer as I handed him the other.
Teddy smiled back at me, tapping the neck of his bottle against mine, and said, “To reunions.”
“And Sunday supper,” I added, as we both plunged the limes into our beers and took long sips.
Mom sighed a loud, wistful sigh and said to Dad, as if we couldn’t hear, “Those two…they were always so cute together.”
* * *
—
SUPPER TURNED OUT to be stress-free, even pleasant, the topics flowing easily from Bristol happenings to larger current events, including politics, one of Dad’s favorite subjects. Everyone stayed calm and unusually neutral, as I realized that I had no clue about Teddy’s political leanings. On paper, I would have guessed he was a Republican, but I couldn’t recall a single conversation I’d ever had with him about politics.
Then, right at the end of the meal we all simultaneously ran out of topics, creating an awkward silence and a frightening vacuum for my mother to fill.
“So,” she began, rising to the occasion. “How is Kirk? You haven’t mentioned him at all.”
On the surface, it was a fine question, but I could tell by her expression that it was loaded and at least partially merlot-induced.
“He’s fine,” I said, then imprudently added, “I guess.”
She seized on my hesitation. “You guess?” she said.
“He’s been in Dallas,” I said.