“She’s been in and out of different treatment centers, which, as far as I can tell, do nothing.” Darcy sighed. “But I still wonder if she should go back. She’s lost weight again since I last saw her.”
“I have a colleague who did a program in North Carolina that really seemed to help, I think at Duke. Has Georgie ever tried that one?”
“Duke doesn’t sound familiar. She’s been to places in Southern California and Arizona.” Darcy smiled sadly. “The one outside San Diego, I think the reason she agreed to check in was that a bunch of celebrities have been patients there, but her stint was celebrity-free. It must have been the off-season.”
“I know eating disorders are really hard,” Liz said. “I’m sorry.”
“I worry that her life is on hold,” Darcy said. “And I worry about her heart and kidneys.”
He was pulling into a parking space—how inevitable things seemed, how close to him Liz felt—when her phone buzzed with an incoming text. If not for her father’s heart attack, she might not have looked at the phone; she might simply have gone into the restaurant and ordered scrambled eggs that she would barely have eaten. Instead, she did look. Before she read the message, she saw the name of the text’s sender, and she said, “Speaking of sisters, this is from Mary.” Then she said, “Oh my God.”
“Is everything all right?” Darcy asked, but for the first time in two days, Darcy was not foremost in her mind; something else had abruptly pushed him aside, and his voice was background noise.
Lydia & Ham eloped to Chicago, Mary’s text read. Turns out Ham transgender/born female!!!!!! M & D freaking out can u come home?
“IS EVERYTHING ALL right?” Darcy asked again.
“Lydia—my youngest sister—I guess she just eloped with her boyfriend. And also—wow.” Rapidly, Liz typed, For real? Not a joke? Mary hadn’t yet responded when Liz sent an additional text: ????
Ham being transgender—it seemed impossible. And Lydia had known? But, Liz thought, he had a goatee!
A few seconds later, Mary’s response appeared: Not a joke. Shortly there followed: And Lydia always accused ME of being gay! And then: Dad and Kitty driving to Chicago now, mom losing her shit. When can u get here?
Liz looked at Darcy, who had parked, turned off the ignition, and was watching her with concern. “Sorry,” Liz said. “I just—I didn’t see this coming. I should talk to Mary. Do you want to get a table and I’ll meet you inside?”
Darcy passed her the keys, and as he climbed from the car, Liz was already calling her sister.
“You’re sure that Ham is transgender?” Liz said when Mary answered. “And you’re sure they eloped? This isn’t some prank Lydia’s pulling?”
“They—Ham—came out to Mom and Dad last night, and it didn’t go well. This morning, there was a note on the kitchen table from Lydia saying they’re getting married.”
“Does he have a fake penis?” Later, Liz would be relieved that it was only Mary to whom she’d posed this prurient question.
“How should I know?” Mary said. “But Mom is acting crazy. I can’t deal with her.”
“What are Dad and Kitty planning to do in Chicago? Do they think they can stop the marriage?”
“Lydia and Ham can’t do it today because courthouses are closed on Sunday. Then tomorrow is Labor Day. Plus, I checked online and they’ll have to wait a day to use their marriage license, unless they already had one before they left, which I doubt. Basically, I don’t see how they can make it official until Wednesday at the earliest.”
“I’m not in New York,” Liz said. “I’m in California. Are you at your apartment or the house?”
“The house, and Mom just popped a bunch of Valium that I think expired ten years ago.”
“Hold on.” Liz lowered her phone and began typing, searching for flights to Cincinnati; the earliest option she could plausibly make left San Francisco at 11:40 A.M., entailed a layover in Atlanta, and would deliver her to Cincinnati at 9:28 P.M. The cost of this decidedly indirect journey would be $887, which she was pretty sure would deplete the last of her once-respectable-seeming savings.
“I’ll go to the airport as soon as I can and text you from there,” Liz said.
“It’s so typical of Lydia to make us deal with her shit.”
“I like Ham, though,” Liz said. “Don’t you?”
“I don’t care about Ham,” Mary said. “I have a paper due next week.”
INSIDE THE CREAMERY, Liz spotted Darcy in a booth—a large plastic menu lay open in front of him—and again she was gripped by an awareness of the parallel universe in which they could function as an ordinary couple. This only made it more difficult to say, as she approached the table, “I’m so sorry, but I need to go. Could you—I’m sorry to ask this—could you take me back to Charlotte’s to get my stuff, then give me a ride to the airport?”
“What’s wrong?”
“The person Lydia eloped with—her boyfriend—he’s transgender. I guess my parents are really upset.”