After Jess and Michael leave for dinner, Zoe and I curl up on the couch watching the original Parent Trap with Hayley Mills. It was one of my favorite movies as a child, and like the satisfying child she is, Zoe tells me more than once that she prefers this “old-fashioned” version to the one with Lindsay Lohan.
When the phone rings, I glance at the caller ID. It is Maura. My heart seizes with the thought of more family drama. And aside from any report that she has for me, I positively dread telling her about Zoe’s accident.
“It’s your mom,” I say as I hit the pause button on the remote control and answer the phone.
“Hey, Maura,” I say gingerly. I’m going to have to ask cryptic questions with Zoe right next to me.
“I wanna talk to Mommy !” Zoe says, her voice becoming babyish and whiny.
“One sec, Zoe,” I say, and then ask Maura how she’s doing.
“I’m fine,” Maura says, sounding stronger than I expected.
“What’s going on? How are you?” I say.
“I’m fine, but I can’t really talk now. He’s in the kitchen,” she says in a low voice.
“Can you give me an overview?” I say while Zoe continues to clamor for the phone.
“Well, in a nutshell, he’s crazy sorry. Like begging and crying sorry. He keeps saying that he doesn’t know why he does what he does. He says he needs help. He wants to see my therapist, Cheryl, something he was never willing to do before. He says he’ll do anything to keep our family together,” she whispers. “I’ve never seen this side of him. It’s not like before. I guess it’s because I’m different this time. I haven’t cried once.”
I glance at Zoe and choose my words carefully. “Is he trying to say he has some sort of addiction?”
“Well, he hasn’t said that exactly I just think he’s a very unhappy person.”
That might be true, I think, but it doesn’t give him the license to run around all of Manhattan and make everyone in his family miserable, too. But it’s not up to me to make judgments, or decisions for my sister, so I just say, “How do you feel?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “But I know I have the upper hand for a change And that sure feels good.”
There is a long pause and then she asks how Zoe is.
“She’s sitting right here, patiently waiting to talk to you. I’ll put her on.” Then I inhale sharply and say, “But first I need to tell you something”
Maura interrupts. “Oh, God, what happened?”
I am amazed at her mother’s intuition as I reassure her that Zoe is fine. Then I give her the least melodramatic version of the accident. I leave out the part about Tucker and finish by saying, “I’m truly sorry I let that happen.”
“Don’t be silly,” Maura says, but her voice is shaking a bit. “Accidents happen. It’s not your fault Lemme talk to her.”
“Sure,” I say, handing the phone to Zoe, who promptly and predictably bursts into tears when she hears her mother’s voice. I guess it’s a natural reflex when you talk to the person you love most in the world. Which means I better not go through with my lunch with Ben. I can just see myself blubbering in our booth.
After Zoe gives Maura her rendition of the accident, and the ride to the hospital, and Dr. Steve and her stitches, she launches into Ben and Tucker’s engagement. I don’t have the energy to stop her or intervene. Besides, her report is fairly accurate, right down to the “blond ponytail” and the “big, sparkly diamond ring.”
When I finally take the phone back, Maura says, “Is that true?”
“Afraid so,” I say. “Her imagination isn’t that good.”
“God. I’m so sorry,” she says.
“I know,” I say. “So am I.”
In light of the accident, Maura decides that Zoe should return home tonight. “She needs to be here with us,” Maura says. The us is not lost on me, nor is the fact that Maura and Scott arrive together. I wonder if this means that Maura is going to give Scott “one more chance.” Or whether it’s her way of showing Zoe that both her parents love her very much even though they no longer love each other.
What I am sure of, though, is that Maura looks much better than she did at Zoe’s drop-off a mere twenty-four hours ago. She looks strong, with perfect posture and good color in her cheeks. In contrast, Scott has a gray pallor and a scared, mealy-mouthed manner.
It occurs to me that things could very easily have gone the other way. Scott could have responded with a cavalier, “All right, you got me. Now let’s get a divorce.” Or worse, he could have said, “I’m in love with this woman, and we want to get married.”
At the very least, Maura gets to choose now. And being the decision maker is always empowering. I am happy for my sister for having at least that much. I wish I did.
I kiss Zoe good-bye at least four times and tell her I think we need to have another sleepover soon so we can go to FAO Schwarz and have our carriage ride. “And maybe it will even snow the next time,” I say, missing her before she’s even gone.
“Can I come back soon, Mommy?” Zoe asks, looking up at Maura.
“Of course,” Maura says.
As Scott scoops up Zoe in his arms, Maura takes my hand, squeezes it and quietly says, “Take care of yourself.”