Finally I spot the back of my own head—Casey is sitting next to John. John’s arm is slung over the back of her chair and he’s leaning in, flanking her on one side, Audrey on the other. I can see the side of Audrey’s face and she’s smiling. And my throat becomes dry. Are he and Casey playing our game?
We used to compete to see who could think of the conversation topic that would get Audrey to look up from her cell phone for more than ten seconds. And bonus points if you could get her to talk, smile, or even laugh. John usually won, not surprisingly. I’m convinced he could engage Audrey by talking about anything—global warming, the national budget deficit, or even the latest episode of NCIS. Audrey had always looked at John differently than she did me. Her face was usually somewhere between a blank stare and a scowl depending on her level of irritation when I spoke. But when she looked at John, her eyes almost always lit up and she still reminded me of her five-year-old self, when she’d jump into his arms, wrap her arms tightly around his neck, and giggle wildly as she leaned back, her pigtails swinging in the air over her head.
I tried to tell myself this was a typical mother-daughter dynamic, but I wasn’t so sure. I think of my own mom who was always so kind, never impatient, always supportive rather than critical, even when I called to break the news that I was dropping out of college just a few credits shy of graduation to have a baby. Why couldn’t I be more like her?
A tougher nut to crack for both John and me has always been Sophie. She was performing tonight. And for the first time, I’m on the audience side of the curtain before the show starts. For the past two years, I’ve been a part of the group of moms that volunteer in the theater. Ever since Sophie showed an interest, I’d jumped in to support her, relieved to see her finally care about something. It was after Sophie’s first play two years ago when she was the lead in Alice in Wonderland that John and I had seen that she could break out of her shell. And from opening night until the play closed two days later, she’d been on a high. She’d even talked to us about her friends and school, and we’d hoped this was signaling a change in her that would remain permanent. But as soon as the play ended, Sophie went back into hiding like a snail ducking the rain.
I meet Hilary’s eyes and wave. She half smiles and her brow furrows the way it does when she’s trying to figure something out and I remember I’m not Rachel. I think about how much Casey has come to dislike Hilary in the past few weeks and smile. It’s true, I can’t imagine the two of them ever being friends under normal circumstances. They both thrive on being the center of attention. Since dropping out of college, I had told myself that I was meant to lie low in the background and support the most important people in my life: John, the kids, and even Casey. I’d completely let go of the Rachel who used to thrive every Friday night as I cheered for John and the rest of our high school football team, climbing to the top of the human pyramid at halftime, basking in the applause that followed. I forgot how much I came alive in front of the camera at the college broadcasting studio each week. Until now. Leading Casey’s life was reminding me of that part of myself, and like a sleeping bear that’s been awakened after a long hibernation, I was hungry for more.
As I approach Casey and John, I notice Casey has her hand on John’s knee and I flinch. Is Casey playing the part or is there a real attraction?
“Aunt Casey! I saved you a seat!” Audrey beams and stands up so I can sit next to her. Rachel looks up and quickly pulls her hand off John’s leg.
“Hey, little C.” John smiles and stands to give me a hug. I breathe in the smell of a cologne I don’t recognize (a gift from Casey?). I pull away, scanning his face for recognition. Don’t you realize I’m your wife? Shouldn’t you know that something’s off?? That the woman next to you—the one who just had her hand planted firmly on your thigh—isn’t the one you’ve loved for over twenty years?
Casey’s eyes meet mine and without speaking a word, I know she’s asking me if I’m okay after seeing her hand. Um, yeah, I saw it, bitch. And you’d better be acting! I nod and bite back the tears burning in my throat as Audrey excitedly recounts every detail of the shopping trip for her formal dress. The trip I missed because I chose to stay with Charlie in Santa Barbara. But watching Casey now reminds me that I’ve also been playing a part. Did I really have to miss it because I was working? Or was I using that as an excuse?
? ? ?