At any given time, there were at least five people in the kitchen. When they set about the task of serving, there was double that number. Everyone seemed to know exactly what to do. The women moved like synchronized swimmers, serving food and carrying platters from one room to the other. When it was finally time to sit down, Lauren found herself seated at the adult table, between Mira and Sal.
She’d never seen so much food in her life. There was the turkey, of course, and two bowls of dressing—one from inside the bird and one from outside—mounds of mashed potatoes and boats of gravy, green beans with onion, garlic and pancetta, risotto with Parmesan cheese and prosciutto, homemade pasta in capon broth, roasted stuffed vegetables, and homemade bread.
“It’s obscene, isn’t it?” Mira said, leaning close, laughing.
“It’s beautiful,” Lauren answered wistfully.
At the head of the table, Maria led them all in a prayer that ended with family blessings. Then she stood up. “It is my first Thanksgiving in Papa’s chair.” She paused, closed her eyes tightly. “Somewhere he is thinking how much he loves us all.”
When she opened her eyes, they were full of tears. “Eat,” she said, sitting down abruptly. After a moment of silence, the conversations started up again.
Mira reached for the platter of sliced turkey meat and offered it to Lauren. “Here. Youth before beauty.” She laughed.
Lauren started with the turkey and didn’t stop there. She filled her plate until it was heaped with food. Each bite was more delicious than the last.
“How are your college applications going?” Mira asked, taking a sip of white wine.
“I’ve mailed them all out.” She tried to inject some enthusiasm in her voice. Only a week ago, she would have been pumped up about her applications. Scared of not getting in, perhaps, scared of being separated from David, but still excited about the future.
Not now.
“Where are you applying?”
“USC, UCLA, Pepperdine, Berkeley, UW, and Stanford,” she said, sighing.
“That’s an impressive list. No wonder Angie is so proud of you.”
Lauren looked at Mira. “She’s proud of me?”
“She says so all the time.”
The thought of it was an arrow that pierced her chest. “Oh.”
Mira cut her turkey into bite-sized pieces. “I wish I’d gone away to college. Maybe to Rice or Brown. But we didn’t think like that in those days. At least, I didn’t. Angie did. Then I met Vince and … you know.”
“What?”
“The plan was two years at the community college in Fircrest, then two years at Western.” She smiled. “In a way, it worked. I didn’t count on eight years between my sophomore and junior years, but life follows its own plan.” She glanced across the room at the kids’ table.
“So a baby kept you out of college.”
Mira frowned. “What an odd way to phrase it. No, just slowed me down, that’s all.”
After that, Lauren had trouble eating or talking or even smiling. She finished her meal—or pretended to—then helped with the dishes like an automaton. All she could think about was the baby inside of her, how it would grow bigger and bigger and make her world smaller.
And all around her there was talk of children and babies and friends who were having both. It stopped when Angie was in the room, but the minute she left, the women started up with the kid talk again.
Lauren wished she could leave, just slip unnoticed into the night and disappear.
But that would be rude, and she was the type of girl who followed the rules and played nicely with others.
The kind of girl who let her boyfriend convince her that one time without a condom would be fine. I’ll pull out, he’d promised.
“Not fast enough,” she muttered, taking her piece of pie into the living room.
Her mind was far away as she sat in the living room, tucked between Livvy’s little boys. She stared down at her untouched pie. One of the boys kept talking to her, asking her questions about toys she’d never heard of and movies she’d never seen. She couldn’t answer any of his questions. Hell, she could hardly keep remembering to nod and smile and pretend she was listening. How could she possibly concentrate on a child’s questions when now, this second, a human life was taking root inside her, growing with every beat of her heart? She touched her stomach, feeling how flat it was.
“Come with me.”
Lauren jerked her chin up, yanked her hand away from her belly.
Angie stood there, a plaid woolen blanket thrown over her shoulder. Without waiting for Lauren to answer, she turned and headed toward the sliding glass doors.
Lauren followed her out to the back deck. They sat side by side on a wooden bench, both of them resting their feet on the deck railing. Angie tucked the blanket around their bodies.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
The gentleness of the question was Lauren’s undoing. Her resolve faded, leaving behind a pale gray desperation. She looked at Angie. “You know about love, right?”
“I was in love with Conlan for a long time, and my folks were married for almost fifty years. So, yeah, I know something about love.”
“But you’re divorced. So you know it ends, too.”