“All of the above,” she says, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
“Why?” I say, genuinely wanting to know. “I just don’t see why.”
“Well, for starters, let’s back up here….I’ve been trying to get you to go to the cemetery forever—Mom, too—and you finally go when I’m out of town and you don’t even tell Mom you’re going….”
“It was a last-minute thing,” I tell her.
“But that’s even worse,” she says. “You go on a whim? Without us?”
I let out a weary sigh, then try to explain. “I was at your house, spending time with your daughter because your husband lost Rabby….”
“So?” she says. “And your point is…?”
“My point is…it just came up….Nolan asked me to go with him….I wanted to say no, but I felt sorry for him, you know, with everything going on….So I said yes….How can you be pissed at me for that?”
Meredith doesn’t answer the question, just stares at me, then presses on to her next point. “Second of all, I specifically told you that Mom and I wanted to plan something for this December…for the fifteen-year anniversary.”
I once again wince at her use of anniversary in this context.
“And then you pull this stunt,” she says. “This was supposed to be about you and me and Mom doing something together. In Daniel’s memory.”
“Well, we’re together now,” I say.
“I know, but Mom’s not here, and, shit, Josie,” she says, throwing her hands up, then letting them fall back onto her lap. “Don’t you get my point? At all? That we always do things your way…on your terms?”
“Yes, I get that it might seem like that….But things change….Neither one of us thought you were going to take a leave from work and flee to New York and plan a divorce—”
“Can we please leave Nolan and my marriage out of this?”
“Fine,” I say, catching an older woman staring at us. I slide down a couple feet, so I’m directly across from Meredith, then lean forward, lowering my voice. “But I think it’s all related.”
She shakes her head and says, “No, it’s not all related.”
“Yes. It is,” I insist, my heart now racing. “It all goes back to Daniel. Don’t you see that?…Nolan…your marriage…Sophie…” I nearly blurt out my confession right there on the subway, just to get it over with, and win the debate. Show her just how much it’s all so fucking interrelated. But she is now glaring at me with such animosity that I back down, afraid. “My issues, too,” I simply say. “And I really want to sort those things out before I have a baby…before I become a mother.”
“Exactly!” she says, raising her voice and pointing at me, just like the lawyer that she is. I stare back at her, wondering what point she thinks I’ve just made for her.
“What?” I say. “Is there something wrong with that? God, Mere. Why do you hate me so much?”
“I don’t hate you,” she says, giving me a look like she does. “I’m just sick and tired of everything revolving around you. Your timing. Your plans. It’s always about you, Josie.”
My cheeks on fire, I say, “That’s so unfair….I came here to see you, Meredith—and to make sure you’re okay. I was really hoping to work on our relationship—which is why I didn’t want to spoil our good mood last night with anything serious.”
She starts to speak, but I hold my hand in the air, determined to make my last point. “And I also came here because I need to talk to you about Daniel.”
“Yeah. You keep saying that,” she says, shaking her head. “When’s that conversation going to happen, anyway?”
“Tonight,” I say, knowing that things are about to get much, much worse between my sister and me.
—
WHEN WE GET back to Ellen’s, I text Sophie, telling her that we would love to meet up with her tonight. She quickly writes back, suggesting we come to her place on the Upper West Side for a drink before dinner and she’ll make a reservation somewhere casual.
In the hours that follow, Meredith and I both react to the stress of our plan in our typical ways: she changes into workout clothes and announces that she’s going for a long run. I change into sweats, crawl back into bed, and fall into a deep sleep.
I awaken sometime later to my vibrating phone, feeling disoriented, and even more so when I see Pete’s name. I suddenly remember where I am, as I answer with a groggy hello.
“Hi, you,” he says, his voice chipper. “Were you asleep?”