“Cool,” he said. “Wanna be friends?”
Something told me he wasn’t into My Little Pony or Care Bears and wasn’t going to want to have a tea party with me, the way Tracy had. And I didn’t care one bit. “Yeah,” I said.
“Me, too. I better go back before my dad starts looking for me. But maybe we can play later.”
Then he stuck out his hand. It was such a funny, adult thing to do that I burst into giggles, but I shook it all the same.
“Friends,” he said, and when he looked at me, I got the weirdest feeling. Later I would recognize it as the feeling you get when someone sees you—really sees you. But I wouldn’t fully understand just how rare that was until it was too late.
“Friends,” I said.
And we were for fifteen years, until he told me I was a people pleaser who would rather please a manipulator than her oldest friend—and I made the mistake of trying to defend that manipulator.
Because she was my mother.
FOUR
SALLY
Three girls. A gift—that’s what my mother always said. She was one of three, and yet she had just me. It was a different time, she claimed. She and my father didn’t have much, especially in the beginning; they didn’t want me to ever know what it was like to own but a single dress, or to split two potatoes among five people and call it supper. I was the one to have a big family. I would’ve kept going, too, if Hank hadn’t told me three was enough. So our apartment wasn’t the Plaza. So what? I loved the sound of all those voices in one place. I miss them, my girls. New York’s become too big for my taste. Piper is . . . where is it she and her gaggle live lately? That loft in Tribeca. No, no, she’s over in Williamsburg now. Of course. Closer, if only as the crow flies. And it takes Hadley an hour to get here from the Upper East Side. It would be faster if she’d take the train like she used to. Better yet, she could move to Brooklyn Heights or Cobble Hill. Heaven knows she and Topper could afford to buy a whole block if they were so inclined.
But maybe it’s better if Hadley’s not here too often. She thinks something’s wrong with me. She doesn’t have to say it—I know. I know. I see her hawk eyes, the way she listens too closely when I speak.
Perhaps she’s right. I did give Bashir more than he bargained for, though I didn’t realize it until I caught him with his mouth hanging open. Like the things teens wear these days aren’t far worse! Just yesterday, I saw two bottom cheeks peeking out of a pair of shorts, and that child couldn’t have been older than fifteen.
Laine. I’ll call Laine. My girl, my easy girl. You’re not supposed to pick favorites, and, of course, I haven’t, but it’s nice to be able to speak to at least one of your daughters and not have her tell you—a fully grown woman who managed to raise three self-sufficient humans—how to live your life.
“Laine, dear? It’s Mom.”
“Hey, Mom.” She sounded tired. She’ll never admit it, but a mother always knows. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, just fine. I saw Shawna this morning.” Bless her, I look a decade younger than I did when I walked into the salon. That woman has a way with color.
“I’m glad to hear that. What else have you been up to? Have you been to wine club lately?”
Have I? Just yesterday, wasn’t it? Or no—last weekend.
“Mom? Are you there?”
“I’m here! Just thinking about the new Bordeaux we tried. Oh, and we had the most exquisite Rasteau.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It was! And you, love? How’s Josh? And Belle?”
When she didn’t respond, I knew I’d done something wrong. I just couldn’t figure out what, exactly.
Then I remembered. “Oh, Lainey, I apologize—I forgot about your dog. She’s been with you so long, and, well—this is just so sudden. I’m very sorry, dear. I am.”
She sniffled, but then she said, “It’s okay. I’m getting over it. Hey, Mom?”
“Yes, Lainey?”
“I need to talk to you about something.”
Oh dear. Nothing good ever came after that sentence. “What is it, love?”
“It’s about me and Josh.”
But I was wrong—this was very good indeed! “You’re expecting, aren’t you? How wonderful!”
More silence. Dear Sally Francis, could you stop shoving your foot in your trap for a change? “I’m sorry, Lainey. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I’ve just been so eager to be a grandmother.”
Another sniffle. “You already have five grandchildren. And knowing Hadley and her bionic uterus, she’s probably not done yet.”
“Yes, well, I mean one of your children. You two would have such beautiful babies.” With Laine’s sturdy Ukrainian stock and Josh’s fine Japanese features—oh, their children would just be gorgeous. So odd that, after all these years, they still hadn’t had any. They never said they didn’t want to. Maybe Laine, like Hadley, had been struggling to get pregnant.
“Yeah. I thought so, too.” She paused. “But Josh and I are divorcing.”
It took me a moment to process what she’d just said. “I’m sorry . . . what?”
“It’s kind of a long story, but we want different things.”
“Laine, my love, you’re very smart, but what you want is hardly the most important thing in a marriage.” I glanced over my shoulder at the kitchen table. A chill came over me when I realized what I was doing. Hank was always with me, of course. But he hadn’t been here here for more than four years. And yet lately . . . well, no matter.
“Maybe so, Mom, but it’s over for me and Josh. I’ll tell you more later, but I just thought you should know.”
At once, I felt very heavy, like I used to when the girls would pull on my arms and legs to get my attention when they were small. “Oh, Laine, we love Josh. And I know you do, too! Are you sure about this?”
She wasn’t—otherwise, she would have answered me right away. I felt my heart swell; there was still hope.
“I don’t want to talk about it quite yet,” she said. “I just felt . . . like I should tell you.”
“Thank you,” I said. Laine wasn’t a talker, not like Hadley, so when she told me something, it meant more somehow.
“Thanks. The real reason I called is because Hadley called me.”
“I should hope so. We were just saying we don’t see nearly enough of you.”
“Yeah, she asked me to come visit. I’m thinking about it. But, Mom . . . are you doing okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Hadley says you’ve been forgetful lately.”
Well, yes. But wasn’t a woman allowed to have a moment from time to time? “You and I both know that your sister is always making a mountain out of a mudslide.”
Laine coughed. “Molehill.”
“Tomato, tomahto. But, darling, why don’t you come visit? I could use some help around here.”
“Really?”
“What do you mean, ‘really’? I would never ask if I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s just that you don’t usually like anyone to . . . touch your stuff.”
No, I didn’t, and Laine had followed me around for nearly eighteen years sifting and sorting. However well intentioned, all that organizing meant my things often got broken, went missing, or were declared unnecessary. As if there were such a thing. Besides food, water, and heat, what is necessary, anyway? Then again, Laine did keep Hank off my back for all those years. “Mostly I need some help with my bills, love. There’s a pile of them and they exhaust me. Also, I haven’t been able to find the password for my online bank account.”
“Mom. That’s kind of a big deal. Did you tell Hadley? You know she’ll be there in a heartbeat.”
“I didn’t ask for her help.” Because she’d probably use it as evidence that I needed to be shipped off to an old-folks home. I’d sooner leave in a body bag. “I asked for yours.” She was quiet on the other end of the line, so I said, “Hadley? Are you there?”