We said: Why don’t you sit, Edie? What we were thinking was: What a shame her husband isn’t here to catch her.
She did sit, finally, and we all unclenched whatever body parts we had been clenching. “The kids are going to do a little dance in a minute,” she said. She did some jazz hands. “A little razzle-dazzle for the crowd. Hey, did you understand the theme?”
Yes, we’re at the waltz table. It’s a very old dance for very old people.
That cracked Edie up, and she laughed so loudly that other people turned and stared, but we loved that laugh, we loved her as much as she scared us sometimes. She was just so deeply feeling about so many ideas, and when she was present and capable of loving, she had astonished us with her fire. She had driven us to doctors’ appointments and written us lovely notes when our children got married and brought deli trays over when we sat shiva for our parents. She had convinced us to try sushi for the first time, and also to donate money to Planned Parenthood, even though, obviously, none of us had ever had abortions. When she was engaged, she could make anything happen. When she was sad, and she had been so much lately, she could do nothing but eat.
We hid the shoes under the table, we whispered to her. Who wants to look at shoes while you eat?
Edie laughed even harder. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “My friends.”
A smile so wide, the most charming cackle. It was hard to believe she had been killing herself for years.
The lights flashed a few times, and the conversation level in the room rose briefly, and then there were shushes, and then it was silent. Edie lifted herself up from her chair, blew us all kisses, and wandered crookedly back to her seat. In the corner near the DJ booth, we saw a stand with fourteen candles waiting to be lit, except it wasn’t time for that yet, nor was it time for dessert, nor was it time for us to get our coats and head home, but the wine was hitting us, the Heineken, too. All we could do was sit and wait for Emily and Josh Middlestein to dance for their lives.