Strawberry Pop-Tarts are Zoe’s favorite food, but she’s only allowed to have them on special occasions. Until now, Maura’s been all about organic foods.
“What flavor?” Zoe asks excitedly.
“Strawberry. With frosting and sprinkles,” I say. ” Dub !”
Zoe beams. It’s so nice to be able to please someone so easily. I just wish I could fix Maura’s problems, too. I stand and put my arms around my sister. I can feel her ribs and the sharpness of her shoulder blades through her Burberry trench coat. “You’re so bony, Maura,” I say. “I’m worried about you”
Maura sighs and touches her cheekbone. “I know. I look haggard, don’t I?”
“You don’t look haggard,” I say. “Just too thin. You need to take care of yourself”
“It’s funny,” Maura says. “Until this week I always believed that you could never be too rich or too thin Now, I’m not so sure I’d rather be poor, fat, and happy”
Zoe interrupts and says, “Is Jess home, too? Can I try on her shoes?”
“Why, of course! All one hundred pairs!” I say, thinking that if I’m a B-list celebrity in Zoe’s eyes, Jess is Madonna. Even a six-year-old can sniff out gradations of beauty and style.
Maura glances at her Cartier watch and sighs. “Okay. The boys are at Daphne’s Scott’s expecting me at eight I better get home.”
“Good luck,” I say. Then I touch her arm and tell her I love her. It’s something Maura and I rarely say to each other, although we never question it.
“I love you, too, Claudia. Thank you ,” Maura says. Then she kneels in front of her daughter and brushes her hair away from her face. “And I love you, pumpkin.”
“I love you, Mommy,” Zoe says, hugging her mother around the neck.
“Be good for Aunt Claudia,” she says.
“I will, Mommy.”
Maura smiles at her daughter. Then she stands and faces me.
“Call me when you can,” I say.
She nods, turns, and walks swiftly toward her silver Range Rover, her high-heeled boots clicking on the sidewalk. I watch her for a few seconds, feeling overwhelmed by worry. Her weekend ahead makes my upcoming lunch date at Pete’s Tavern seem like a trivial encounter. I guess that’s the impact three innocent children have in the equation.
When I look down at Zoe, I see that she, too, looks concerned. She is squinting as she watches her mother start the car and pull away from the curb. Maura waves and gives us a little honk. Zoe waves back and mouths, “Bye, Mommy.”
I’ve never seen my niece look so sad and wonder if it’s because she senses that something is wrong, or if it’s only that she’s still a little young to be away from home for two nights. I tousle her hair and say, “Ready to get out of the cold, Zoe Doughy?”
She nods and says, “Aunt Claudia?” Her voice rises into a high-pitched question.
“Yeah, honey?” I say, nervous of what she might ask.
Sure enough, she asks one of her trademark questions: “Why is Mommy so sad?”
So I give her one of my stellar answers: “Mommies get sad sometimes. That’s all”
Zoe sighs and then says, “She said the s-h word in the car yesterday. And then she cried.”
“Mommies say bad words sometimes. And they get upset sometimes,” I say. “But she’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”
“Do you promise?” she says, her blue eyes big with worry.
I panic, wondering what the right answer is. Is it right for me to make such a promise? What constitutes fine ? I certainly don’t want to lie to Zoe. I have a sudden memory of one troubling Family Feud episode I watched when I was about seven. The final, bonus-round question was “Top five lies your parents told you.” I remember racking my brain, trying to come up with something, while the Johnson family ripped off answers with ease. Survey Says … Santa Claus! Easter Bunny! Tooth Fairy ! It was a devastating moment. In part because I had discovered a sad truth about my favorite trio, but also because I had just received a handwritten letter from the North Polea letter I now knew to be bogus. I ripped it off my bulletin board and confronted my parents about their lies.
Still, I think carefully about Zoe’s question and decide that things will be fine. So I say, “Yes, Zoe. I promise you.”
She gives me a hopeful smile. Then she slides her small hand into mine and says, “Can we go eat Pop-Tarts now? For dinner?”
“Great idea,” I say. “Pop-Tarts for dinner. And Pop-Tarts for dessert!”
“And for appetizers?” she says.
“Yup. For appetizers, too,” I say, smiling. “What could be better than that?”
As Zoe and I are finishing our elegant three-course meal of strawberry Pop-Tarts, Jess returns home from work. She and Zoe hug and kiss hello as I discreetly ask her if Michael will be coming over later. She shakes her head and says she wants to hang with us. I am happy about this as I wasn’t sure how to explain an unwed sleepover to Zoe. To this point, Zoe turns to Jess and says, “Who’s Michael? Your boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” Jess says, smiling. “He is.”
Zoe fires back with, “Do you love him?”
Jess looks at me and laughs.