After a cursory kitchen cleanup (Mom always insists we leave the dishes for later), I excuse myself to check my phone. There is a text from Kirk that came in while we were eating, saying simply: I’m home. Finch says you’re in Bristol? I don’t answer it. I then check my voicemail, finding a lone message from Melanie. Her tone is frantic and dramatic, as she gives me a convoluted report about hearing from Kathie, who heard from her daughter, who heard from someone else, that there had been some sort of “Lyla-Polly showdown” at our house this afternoon. “Lovely,” I say aloud, contemplating what to do.
Instead of calling Melanie back, or trying to reach Finch to get to the bottom of things, I realize my only concern is for Lyla. So at the risk of being a tattletale, I text Tom: I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I have good reason to believe our kids have been spending time together….I believe they went to a concert last night, and I understand from Melanie (and the usual rumor mill) that Lyla was at our house today. I’m in Bristol at my parents’ and don’t believe Kirk was home, either. Although we do not have a rule against girls being over when we’re not home (we should!), I did not give Finch permission to invite Lyla over, and something tells me you did not grant yours, either. I also heard that there was a situation with Finch’s ex-girlfriend, Polly, coming over and confronting Lyla. Details unclear and very possibly blown out of proportion, but given everything, I felt it was the right thing to share this information with you. I’ll be home tomorrow, but feel free to call me tonight. I’m sorry. Again.
I wait a moment, hoping for a response, relieved when I get it: She did not have my permission. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll talk to her and be in touch.
Feeling sick, but deciding there is nothing more I can do for now (and that there is certainly no point in trying to enlist Kirk’s assistance), I put my phone back in my purse. Then I join Teddy and my parents, who have retired to our back porch. Mom is serving her signature Pepperidge Farm mint Milano cookies with glasses of crème de menthe. I can see Teddy has declined the sweet nightcap and is sticking with his Corona.
As I take the only free seat, on the sofa next to Teddy, I have the distinct feeling they have been discussing me.
“What did I miss?” I say.
“Oh, nothing, really,” Dad says. “Is everything okay at home?”
We all hear that it’s a rather ridiculous question—so I smile and say, “No worse than usual!”
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Mom says.
After dropping my bomb and accepting their condolences, I’d insisted that I would be fine and that it was all for the best. I’d even tossed in the glib but often true statement It is what it is.
“Yes, I’m sure. Not tonight,” I say, desperate for an emotional escape. “Why don’t you just tell us some stories?”
You never have to ask my mother twice.
She launches into a long, rambling story about my brother and me trying to get “lost” in the woods on a family vacation so we could be like Bobby and Cindy Brady. She then finishes by saying, “That was back when Nina was willing to go camping. These days her idea of roughing it is a Comfort Inn or Hilton Garden.” She laughs, then looks at me and adds, “Though come to think of it, I bet you wouldn’t do those, either!”
“Stop it,” I say, feeling defensive. “I’ve stayed at my share of Comfort Inns and Hilton Gardens.”
“In the last few years?” she says.
“Absolutely,” I say, pleased that it’s actually the truth, although I don’t offer that it only happens when Finch plays basketball in remote rural locations and I literally have no other choice. Nor do I confess that I’ve been known to pack my own pillow and linens.
“Well, you definitely haven’t gone camping in the last twenty years,” Mom says, as it occurs to me that she may be nostalgic not only for the “good ol’ days” but also for the old me. “Other than glamping!” she adds, shaking her head with something approaching glee.
“Glamping? As in ‘glamorous camping’?” Teddy asks, clearly as amused as Mom.
“Bingo!” Mom says as the two laugh. Even Dad smiles.
“That’s a real thing?” Teddy asks me.
Mom answers for me, “Yes! In Montana. Right, Nina?”
“Right,” I mumble, grateful that she doesn’t also remember our glamping excursions in Big Sur and Tanzania.
“And, Teddy, you should see these ‘tents,’?” Mom says, making big air quotes. “Plumbing, heat…even heated floors! Fanciest tents you’ve ever seen!”
I can’t tell if she’s calling me out or bragging—but she has the same look on her face she gets whenever she asks me how much I paid for something. I know this is none of my business, she always starts. But how much did this set you back?
“Subject change, please, Mom,” I say, abrasiveness creeping into my voice.
Mom’s smile quickly fades as she gives me a sincere under-her-breath apology, knowing she went a little too far.
“No, I’m sorry,” I say, regretting being so sensitive and dampening the jovial moment. I really need to lighten up. After all, it’s not a big secret that my life has changed—and that that change has a lot to do with money. “It’s just a little embarrassing….”
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed,” Mom says. “I think it’s wonderful that you’ve had so many neat experiences.”
“Me, too,” Teddy says, nodding.
“Me three,” Dad chimes in.
“Yeah. I’ve been lucky. In some ways,” I say. It’s a reference to Kirk, and I can tell that at least Mom picks up on it.
“Yes. Nobody has the ‘perfect life,’?” she says.
“True,” Teddy agrees. “There are pros and cons to everything. Every life.”
I nod.
“I mean, I hate that my boys aren’t with me full-time since the divorce,” Teddy says. “It stinks that they live in Charlotte. But…” He pauses, as I wonder where he’s going. What the pros to this situation could possibly be. “They’re in this fancy private school getting a really good education. An opportunity they wouldn’t have had here. Not to knock Vance and Tennessee,” he says, referring to the local middle and high schools that we attended and where Julie’s kids go now. “But Charlotte Country Day is way better. I could never have afforded a school like that. But their stepfather can. And he is happily paying for every dime. It’s a silver lining, for sure. You can always find one if you look hard enough.”
“I really hope so,” I say.
Suddenly my mom announces that it’s past their bedtime, but that “you kids” should keep catching up. Teddy looks as if he’s going to announce his own departure, so I quickly intervene. “One more beer?”
I’m not sure whether I actually want him to stay—or just want to avoid a divorce talk with Mom, but I am happy when he says, “Sure. One more.”
As my parents and Teddy stand to hug goodbye, I go to the fridge and grab a Corona. While I’m putting in the lime, my parents walk into the kitchen behind me.
“You okay, sweetie?” Mom says, as she initiates a hug.
“Yes. I promise,” I say, hugging her back. “We can talk all about it in the morning.”
“Okay. Or come get me if you can’t sleep,” Mom says, the way she did when I was little. “Are you staying here or with Julie?”
“Here,” I say. “I just have to get my bag out of the car.”
“I’ll get it,” Dad says.
“Thank you,” I say, feeling a wave of love for my father. For both of them.
“Anything else you need?” Mom asks.
I shake my head. “No, thanks….I’m just really glad I’m here.”
“We are, too,” Dad says.
As I nod, collect Teddy’s beer, and head back toward the porch, I can feel Mom watching me. “Have fun,” she says a little too eagerly. “You never know what could—”
“Don’t say it, Mom,” I cut her off, glancing over my shoulder.
But she says it anyway, a goofy grin on her face. “Well, it could happen….You and Teddy, after all these years.”
* * *
—
“I FORGOT HOW awesome your parents are,” Teddy says when I get back to the porch, this time sitting across from him.
“Yeah. My mom’s a little nuts, though,” I say. No matter how much you don’t like your son-in-law, and I suspect that it may be a great deal in her case, normal people just don’t say something like that on the same evening their daughter tells them she’s getting a divorce. Then again, my mom clearly isn’t normal. For better or worse.
“She cracks me up,” Teddy says, chuckling to himself. “Always has. No filter. And I just love how she calls you out.”