“Well, Lynne is his ex-wife and it was not an amicable split. If I am, as you say, going to benefit from having her in my life, how on earth do I manage that? How do I keep them both?”
“You’ll figure it out,” Claire says, as my mom wanders over to check on the chicken. “And be a bit soft with Marcy. She’s been your one and only bestie, as the kids say, for a very long time. I suspect Lynne and Teresa being back in your life can feel a little threatening, and Lynne seems the easiest place to dump her jealousy.”
“You think Marcy is jealous of Lynne?”
“I think Marcy fills the role with you that Lynne did, so if Marcy were going to feel pushed aside or replaced, Lynne would be the one to make her feel that way. I don’t doubt her sincerity, or her protectiveness of you, but I also know that it must be hard on her. She had all these years of encouraging you to be more, do more, get out there, and then Lynne swans in and there is this bet and suddenly you are doing all the things she suggested and you ignored, and you are doing them successfully. Plus you have this wonderful boyfriend, which is another drain on the time you can spend with her.”
“I never would have thought . . .” Marcy has always been so confident, so strong, in a million years I would not have thought she could be jealous, especially over me.
“I know. It’s why I mention it.” The doorbell rings. “Saved by the bell,” Claire says, as I head over to let Shawn in.
“Hello, beautiful,” he says, leaning in to kiss me.
“Hello, handsome. How was the surgery?”
“Long and exhausting. How did Ian do?”
I make it a habit never to call or text when I know he is in surgery. He mentioned that he hates to get out of a long procedure only to find a phone full of new obligations, and I try to be sensitive to that, even though I want to reach out a million times a day. “He made it through.”
“That is so terrific, good for him. And congrats to you!”
“Yeah, we’ll talk more about that later.”
My mom and Claire come into the room to greet him, fluttering around him like a pair of excitable butterflies, taking his coat, asking about his day, handing him a drink. He handles it like a champ.
“Something smells amazing in here, and I’m hungry as a bear!”
“Come, come, dinner is ready!” my mom says, ushering us all into the dining room.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Shawn says, offering Claire his arm as my mom and I head into the kitchen to bring out the dishes.
“Claire is right about one thing, kiddo. You will figure it out. And whatever you decide, we’ll support you,” she says, spooning the rich sauce over the chicken. “I think you should talk to Shawn about it. See how he feels, what he worries about. If you are a couple, then that takes precedence. It is possible to have friendships that don’t involve spouses—Lord knows your father hated my girlfriend Allison, which was why I always spent time with her on my own and didn’t foist her or her annoying husband on him. You can keep them both in your life if you choose and still be protective of him if he doesn’t want to interact with her. But he is a good and smart man, and I believe he will help you figure out how to manage the whole thing if you let him in completely.”
“I think so too.” And I do. For all my nonconfrontational nature, as awkward as the conversation is likely to be, I also know that I want his advice, and to hear what he needs for everything to be okay.
“Now let’s feed that poor man before he falls over.”
My mom might not be a fancy cook, but I know I get my impulse to love people with food from her, and I’m so grateful for that gift.
“Yeah, let’s do that.” And we pick up the platters and head for the dining room.
? ? ?
Your mom is a good cook,” Shawn says as we get back to my house after walking Simca around the block, bundled up against the cold, which intensified after I got to Mom’s house.
“Yeah. You got all her serious specialties tonight, you know.”
“The chicken Marbella. My mom used to make it all the time back in the eighties. It was total nostalgia.”
“Everyone used to make it all the time in the eighties! It was exotic and fancy and fed a crowd.”
“It was a lovely meal. Even if Claire did molest me.”
I laugh. When we went to leave, he leaned in for a kiss and she turned her cheek the wrong way and ended up planting one right on his lips. “She was two Manhattans in.”
“It was funny.” Claire had blushed like a teenager and got all flustered. “I really enjoy them both.”
“Well, at this point I’m pretty sure that they like you better than they like me, so that is good. They want us all to have dinner again next week with Glenn, but if that is a little too much family time, we can just say you have work.”
“Not at all. Don’t forget, I lose my family all winter; it’s nice to have some time with yours. And I’m really looking forward to meeting Glenn.”
I tell him about Shelby’s request for me to chaperone Ian. “She knows that a month is a long time, and she offered to fly you out for weekends, but I want to know what you think.”
“First of all, I’m not a part of this decision. If it is something you want to do, then you should absolutely do it. Of course if you do, I will come visit, and while Shelby’s offer is very generous, I can fly myself to New York. Not that I want to be apart from you for a month, but it isn’t forever, and we are grown-ups, we’ll manage just fine. What does your gut say?”
I adore him. “I go back and forth. On the one hand, it’s an exciting idea—there are a ton of things I could do and see and eat in New York. I’ve never really spent any significant time there, but I know a lot of chefs here who can hook me up with chefs there, so that would be amazing.”
“But?”
“But . . . leaving you, leaving Simca . . . the Farbers and Lawrence?”
“Can I say something you might not want to hear?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, first off, I will be fine. And I’ll take Simca, so she and I can commiserate about our desperate loneliness without you, and when I come visit she will get time with your mom, who will spoil her rotten. I know there is a little part of you that thinks if you leave for a month the Farbers and Lawrence will somehow see that they can manage well without you, but I think that your being gone will just show them how much they love having you in their lives. I know it will for me. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, my love.”
“Okay, that makes me feel better. But there is something else.”
“What’s that?”
“Ian. We’re talking about me essentially playing surrogate mom, twenty-four/seven, for a little boy. I’ve never spent more than a few contiguous hours with any kid.”
“Wait, you’ve been on vacations with them. That is twenty-four/seven.”