All the Rage

“Yeah,” I say. “I forgot to tell you. The last of them left Wednesday. I don’t know what took them so long.”


“Maybe they were waiting for the Turner kid to show. Hoping for something from the Grebe Auto Supplies heir. Makes it all a little more interesting.”

“Because it’s so boring, otherwise.”

“Hey, that’s not what I said. News loves a good tragedy, they love known quantities. You get the tragic, known quantity and you’ve got something.”

“I don’t think they’ll be seeing Alek soon. I don’t know if he’ll even be able to handle the funeral on Tuesday.”

“You going?”

“It’s private,” I say. “They’re having an assembly at school on Monday and the visitation is Monday night.”

When we reach Caro and Adam’s place, I get out of the car more nervous than I was my first time here. If Leon notices, he doesn’t say anything. He hauls the cooler out of the backseat and I follow him up the driveway. Caro opens the door before we even reach it.

“Excited to see us, huh?” Leon sets the cooler down and gives her a hug.

“Ava’s sleeping. I wanted to beat you to the doorbell, so I wouldn’t have to beat you at the doorbell,” she says. “She should be up soon, though.”

She lets Leon go and turns to me and there’s this brief moment where we look each other over. I want to see how motherhood wears on her. She wants to see how a dead girl wears on me. Caro’s in a pretty blue tunic and black leggings and a pair of slippers. She looks tired, but her contentedness makes the tired look good. She takes me in and I don’t think I work my look so well, because the corners of her mouth turn down.

“I’m so sorry about Penny,” she says.

“It’s okay.” I don’t know why I can’t think of something better to say than that because it’s such a bad answer. It’s not okay.

“Leon told me it was complicated, between you and her,” she says and he looks away from us. “But still. A shock. I hope you’re all right.”

“I’m fine. I’m…” I force the next words out. “I’m excited to meet Ava. Oh—and I brought you some food.” I point to the cooler. “My mom and I made it. There’s about a week’s worth of meals in there for you guys, all freezable.”

“Oh my God, thank you.” She gives me a big hug and I let myself fall into it a little. “We just finished the last casserole a friend sent over. I get so intense about making sure the baby stays alive, by the time that’s taken care of, I can barely muster an interest in keeping myself watered and fed. Thank your mom for me.”

Leon takes the cooler inside and we follow after him. Caro assigns him the task of quietly filling the freezer while she asks me if I want anything to drink. I turn red, even though she doesn’t mean it that way.

“Where’s Adam?” Leon asks. “He around?”

“Milk run. He’ll be back soon. He gets separation anxiety.”

“That softie.” Leon closes the fridge.

“So how was it?” I ask. “Having her?”

“Disgusting,” Leon says.

“No one asked you and you weren’t even in the room,” Caro says, smiling at him before telling me, “Disgusting. But easy, I think. With an epidural. No complications. It was—gross, though. Childbirth is a messy business.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you last week,” I say. “With Penny…”

“No, that’s fine.” Caro waves her hand. “I wanted to see you, but Leon wasn’t thinking, bless him. We were a little too overwhelmed for visitors that soon.”

“Bless you,” Leon returns. He glances at one of the casseroles. “Oh, lasagne. This looks great. Want me to pop it in the oven? I’m starved.”

“Can’t let my baby brother go hungry.” She rolls her eyes. “Our parents were down and so were Adam’s sisters, and that was enough. It’s been a huge adjustment. It still is, but that first week, I felt like a walking train wreck. I kind of still do, actually.”

“You don’t look like one.”

“I like Romy, Leon,” Caro says. “Don’t mess it up with her.”

Leon doesn’t say anything. Keeps his eyes off me.

“It’d be me, if it was anyone,” I say. “He’s too good.”

He smiles a little, puts the lasagne in the oven, and helps himself to a bottle of water from the fridge. “So has the memory of pregnancy receded enough yet that you think you’ll have another kid, Caro?”

“Shut up,” she says pleasantly.

A car rumbles up the driveway.

“Adam,” Leon says. “I’m going to give him a hand.”

And then he’s gone to do it. Caro watches them from the window.

“So how did you guys choose the name Ava?” I ask.

She returns her attention to me. “We both liked it. Simple. It was the only name we liked, actually. We don’t fight that much, me and Adam, but I swear we had three world wars over names. Just vicious. And then we saw Ava and it just worked.”

“You seem more—” I try to find the words. “I mean, since I saw you at Swan’s…”

“Oh, right. That was a weird day. I don’t know.” She shrugs a little, embarrassed. “It’s just … my pregnancy was so miserable and I felt so out of control for most of it. I like being in control.”

“Me too,” I say.

“So I thought, I just have to have her and everything is going to fall into place because I’ll have myself back, that part will be where it should be again. But the car accident made me realize how out of my hands all of it is … I got really scared.”

“Are you still scared?”

She nods. “But I have to deal with it because she’s here now.”

The front door opens. Leon and Adam come in carrying bag after bag of whatever it is you run out of in the weeks you bring a newborn home, which must be everything.

“What is that amazing smell?” Adam asks.

“Romy’s lasagne,” Caro says. “She brought us an entire week’s worth of food.”

“Wow. That’s fantastic. Thank you.”