Perfect.
Looking out on our back patio, I see nothing but boring perfection. The grass trimmed perfectly to three inches. The shrubs perfectly edged in the shape of round balls. The pots of fall chrysanthemums lining the edging of the patio perfectly placed one foot apart. Perfect people who grew up in this town and perfectly filled their parents’ shoes.
At the other end of the table, my mother
inclines her head toward Gwen. I take the nonverbal cue and turn my attention to my “dinner partner.” Gwen gives me a smile that’s one more perfect thing in the backyard.
“Wouldn’t that be awesome, Ryan?”
No, walking onto the field with her on my arm at homecoming wouldn’t be awesome. I want to share that moment with Beth. “I’m not sure we get to decide who we walk with.”
Gwen ignores my comment. “Could you
pour me some more water?”
I reach for the pitcher in front of me and do as she asks. This is my obligation to my HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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parents. My job is to fill Gwen’s drink
when it’s empty, remove her dishes when she’s done, and to entertain her. Déjà vu sets in and my head swims with a sinking revelation. This same exact moment is how Gwen and I started dating.
Gwen’s mother sips her wine. Her face is
tighter than it was last fall. “We need to make a decision regarding Allison Risk and the event committee at church.”
Mom fidgets with her pearl necklace. She
hates uncomfortable decisions. “Allison is a sweet young woman.”
“Are you in favor of her joining, Miriam?”
Gwen’s mother asks.
Uncharacteristically, my mother pours wine into her empty water glass. “I don’t know. The Risks were dreadful people. Do you remember Scott’s parents? The man was a mean drunk and the woman wasn’t much better.”
“But Scott’s not his parents,” I say and
everyone at the table glances at me. My mother shoots me a warning glare, but my father puts a hand on my mother’s arm to back her off.
Mom removes her arm from under his touch. I continue, “He became the best baseball player HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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the Yankees have seen in twenty years.
Why should his wife be punished for his
parents’ mistakes?”
Dad’s eyes narrow on the last sentence. His own private warning to me that I may have gone too far.
“I have to be honest,” says Gwen’s mother.
“I am fond of Allison, but it’s the niece I’m concerned with.”
“How so?” asks my mother as I stiffen.
“Have you heard anything about her?”
“I’ve heard she smokes, was disrespectful to a teacher, and swears. All traits we cannot condone, and putting Allison on the committee will reflect upon our church. Which is so sad, since Allison is a dear and the niece is…”
Gwen’s mother flitters her fingers in the air.
“Savage. It’s obvious that the girl didn’t go with Scott like we hoped after the incident with her father.”
My mind awakens. The people at this table know what happened to Beth. I’m torn in two.
Part of me wants to defend Beth. The other half wants to know what happened to her as a child. If I speak now, I’ll lose my opportunity to learn the truth.
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“Liza,” Gwen’s father interjects. “I won’t stand for that child to be gossiped about.”
Red in the cheeks, Mrs. Gardner forces a
smile on her face. “I’m not gossiping and she’s hardly a child anymore. The event committee is an offshoot of a bigger issue. I’m concerned with the girl’s influence. I’m scared everyone will be so wrapped up in who her uncle is that they won’t see the threat in front of them. Do you want your daughter swearing and smoking and talking back to teachers?”
“I hardly think that’s going to happen,” Mr.
Gardner replies.
“Why not?” she argues. “The senior class
already nominated Beth for homecoming court and Ryan is dating her.”
I become rock. This isn’t how I wanted my parents to find out.
“What?” My mother’s fast and irritated
question silences the group. My eyes flash to Gwen. Wide-eyed and pale, Gwen sits perfectly still and stares at the remains of her chicken cordon bleu.
Her mother poorly hides her smugness
behind her wineglass. “I’m sorry, Miriam, I assumed that Ryan told you.” She places a HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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hand over Gwen’s. “I apologize to you too, sweetheart. I didn’t know that what you told me was a secret.”
Mom places her napkin on the table. “Who’s ready for dessert?”
I stand, needing to get the hell out of here.
“I’ll get it.”
Mom deflates in her chair with a nod. What I don’t expect is Gwen hopping up and volunteering, “And I’ll help.”
Unable to look at her, I pivot and head for the kitchen. The rapid click of Gwen’s heels informs me she’s right behind me.